How to avert a temper tantrum

Poor Kalina. Lately, she can best be described as a steaming mass of torrential moods that froth and boil directly underneath her sugar-coated exterior. Occasionally the mood is hilarity. Other times, not so much. 

Off to go stomp in puddles
with new rainboots!



It used to be that if Kalina became upset, she'd wander about 10 feet off, turn her back to me and refuse to talk. Although inconvenient if we were on our way out the door to the grocery store or something, her disgruntled display was one I could readily accept. A few minutes and a little coaxing later, and we were all happily in the car and on our way out.

I was even beginning to think that the Terrible Two's might not hit at all. Naive, I know.



So it took me by surprise the other day just before naptime when Kalina collapsed into a floppy ball of toddler frustration, gushing tears and emotions simply because I'd hinted that if she wanted to take each of her 17 crib animals poop and potty, she might need to move a bit fast.

"Kalina will not move fast," she steadfastly told me, her eyes boring into mine to see what I'd do.

I've been trained, through the ghostwriting of my parenting book (my name's not on the cover, but I did all the writing), that I do not need to get upset at such declarations, I simply need to offer a choice in a casual tone of voice. This will avert a power struggle and we can both get on with our day more peaceably. It usually works great, so I replied:



"Here, Hon, I'll help." And I moved toward the rather sedentary pile of critters.

At which point I expected to meet with a toddler zooming back and forth from her crib and the potty seat as her animals all prepared for naptime, but this was not to be the case. She instead took personal offense at my remark and spiraled the conversation (which was really not a conversation after all) downward as I began gathering up her "friends" to try to get on with the naptime routine.

 Seconds later, Kalina was lying flat on the floor screaming, I was speechless and Elise was happily giggling in the middle of my bed as she awaited her own nap. I'm really not sure how, but I managed to get us all back from the brink and the girls put down for their naps, during which at least the little one actually slept. Of the animals, only Lamby, I believe, ever went poop and potty.

Unsure about what, exactly, hit me, I resolved that this little scenario would not happen again. But it did, and then again, and pretty soon I was switching all of my previously successful (albeit wimpy due to Kalina's rather easy personality) parenting strategies and just trying to figure out something that would work.

Here's what I found:

 1.) The more obviously I push, the more she pushes back. Therefore, if I can offer Kalina the choice of "Either you can quit throwing Elise's toys or you can just go play in your room alone" in a firiendly, non-confrontational, conversational tone of voice, she's much more likely to play nicely. Easier said than done when you're annoyed, frustrated, mad, in a hurry, exhausted, or a combination of those three.

2.) Flattery will get you everywhere, even to the grocery store. "What a pretty song you're singing as we're getting our shoes on to go out!" and such.

3.) Kalina has a very different agenda for her day than I do. They frequently don't mesh, but a little give and take will work wonders. So yes, we can give 1 or 2 animals a doctor checkup before we both go empty the dishwasher, but the other 15 will live (probably) until the next opportunity.



4.) The less I can boss Kalina around, the better she'll listen and respond. So rather than direct Kalina like she's a personal servant, I need to find more subtle means to get her to do what I want. This is where my advertising career comes in handy every single day. It's less about "Pick up your toys," than it is about "Do you think we can get this entire rug completely cleaned off?" with a big smile on my face.

In other words, with lots of psychological manipulation, you can make sure you and the toddler have a pretty nice day. But hey, it's a job.

And it's an exhausting one. While Elise is still testing the limits of "when, exactly, will Mommy feed me at night?" (after 12:00 and again after 3:30, plus any other time that I'm too bleary-eyed when I look at the clock to make any sense of it), Kalina is testing me to see how loud, to the decibal, she can be in the house. It takes every ounce of my brainpower (which, admittedly, isn't much nowadays) to keep us all on an even keel so we don't all three spend the entire day in tears.

The number of times I've copped a jovial attitude when I've felt nothing of the sort, simply to keep Kalina from sinking into negativity, is uncountable. Beyond 11, even (the highest number Kalina accepts as true).

But it works. Kalina is slowly learning the rules of the house, usually at the pace of one manageable meltdown a day.

Fortunately, it's just a phase, right?