Branson, MO
Vacation with lots of family in a rental house
Kid with green goo pouring out of his face
Double ear-infection
Making the switch from crawling to walking
The Thanksgiving-destination-vacation was great! We went to see the sights, ate turkey, and genuinely enjoyed each others company (Yes, I got lucky. I love my in-laws). Everything went without a hitch, except for the tantrums.
I have talked before about my child's experiments in rage as well as my inability to form coherent sentences when he is experiencing said rage, so add that together with being a new place, with people my son doesn't remember (so he thinks they are strangers, and my kid could host his own after-school special about stranger danger, he is NOT one of those, "I'll go to anyone"-kids), and add to that, trying to contain his outbursts so as not to set off his sweet, 4-month-old cousin. We were gearing up for something big.
The first day we had a few melt downs and chalked it up to getting 6 hours of sleep, ear-infections, blah, blah, blah, but several days later, it had only gotten worse. He was extremely attached to me, which is sweet and makes me feel his love, but is also very exhausting. It was at Bob Evans that it all came to a head for me. After being routinely hit in the face, screamed at, and head-butted by my kid in the lobby while we waited 40 minutes for a table, I was starting to enter mom-demon-mode. I felt it start to wash over me. I could no longer listen to the conversations around me, I was alone with this little monster. We got our booth. He ripped everything off the table in record time and screamed and began banging his head in the place where his food should be. The food came and after a few bites, the little morsels we had placed in front of him made a quick trip to the floor. I got the pity look from a few moms who had been there, but I could take no solace in it. My kid was acting terribly and I was too burnt out to take it anymore.
I did something I never do, but got on my phone to reach out to an internet mom blog/forum for help. In the status box I typed something like, "Help. Tantrums bad, 14-months. Make stop. please." Within minutes the replies started coming in. About a half dozen of them said, "He is probably frustrated because he can't express himself." I thought about this and wrote back to them a short while later, explaining about his hearing impairments before he had tubes put in and his delay in speech acquisition. They continued to suggest ways to let him express his feelings and opinions.
I'll be honest, at first I was kind of annoyed. I thought-if he is just frustrated that he can't talk, I would have known that. I am with him everyday, I would know if that is all that it was. I don't think he is developmentally ready. I am a teacher, I know these things (turns out I really don't)...yady yada.
It took me about a day to think on all that was said and actually accept someone's advice. I thought about how frustrated I would be to not be able to communicate even the simplest needs-hungry, hurt, hot, cold, tired, etc. So, I tried to bridge the gap. The next morning for breakfast, I held out an English muffin and his cereal. I asked him which one he wanted and held them close enough for him to reach. Eventually he batted the muffins, I clapped and cheered and made him a muffin. I don't know that he knew what he was doing in that moment, but he does now. I started working on yes/no head nods. At bedtime, I tell him it is bedtime and he walks to his room instead of being carried. I offer him two different shirts in the morning. Our entire world is opening up.
We still have melt downs and tantrums. He is perpetually cutting teeth, which accounts for most of the hitting on others and hitting himself, but this switch has changed our lives.
I think it took him reaching such a state of intensity to wake me up to the fact that he is not a baby. He made the switch to personhood, and I had missed it some how, but I am really glad he told me.
Tonight I was getting him ready for bed and began to feel that lump in my throat. I put his superman jammies on and sat down in the rocking chair. We jabbered back and forth for a few minutes, then he laid his head down, and started to settle. I rocked and rocked until I heard the slow, steady breathing of sleep. And then I rocked some more. I rocked and cried for my love of him. For his people-ness. For his personality. For his preferences. For becoming my little boy and no longer my baby. For sadness that I missed his message. For joy of wondering what is to come.
Below is the unusual lullaby I have to sang him his whole life. If you need me, I will be rocking him for the next to weeks that I am off work.
Love,
J
