The Mother of all Tantrums

Yesterday, Logan had one.

I am documenting not because it was fun but because I may need to refer to this in the future to humble myself when giving "the eye" to other mothers.  Never again.

Like most "disagreements", this started over something minor.  Chapstick.  Make that sparkly chapstick  that I wouldn't let us buy.

Even though I had already said "no", Logan was still gripping the chapsticks in her little hands while we waited in line.  With every step forward, I was prepping her, letting her know that we were going to have to give them back once we reached the register.  The closer we got to checking out, the more of a fuss she started to make.  For whatever reason, she had grown particularly attached to this foursome lip product and I could tell we were going to battle.

With a full line of people behind us, I had to think about my strategy.  Have her hand them back to the lady?  Take them from her with force and let her cry?  Cave in and let her get them to avoid a scene?  I had approximately ten seconds to figure it out.

When we finally reached the point where she had to give up control of the coveted chapstick, she freaked.  Like, completely melted into a puddle on the floor whilst screaming at the top of her lungs.  She was not letting them go.  My "calm approach" was failing miserably.  Time to grab the suckers and deal with the aftermath.  I certainly couldn't cave at this point, we were in too far.

The lady at the register (amongst everyone else in a 20-foot radius) was staring me down.  I could hear their thoughts, "That mother needs to get her kid under control!"  After all, I have been the one on the other side of the situation, thinking the same thing on more than one occasion.

Problem was?  I couldn't.  I peeled the chapstick from her hand but that was the easiest part.  Moving her out of the way whilst wrangling Weston and having her scream bloody murder at the top of her lungs was proving to be an all out war.  I gritted my teeth, avoided eye contact and quite literally drug Logan across the floor until we could make it out the door.

The lady at the register was appalled. "Wow.  I have never seen such a thing…"  Thanks Lady.  Let's just say Logan wasn't the only one wanted to whack.  Hard.

Once we arrived at the car, I fought her into her carseat as she played limp noodle with me.  By now her eyes were swollen and puffy from the crying and screaming.  Although she knew I was furious, there was really very little I could do seeing as how her screaming was distracting my thoughts.  She certainly was in no place to listen to the words I had to say.  She began kicking the seats all the while slurring words about how beautiful the chapsticks were.  Weston chimed in and I too, cried all the way home.

For once, I had absolutely no solution to offer, no words to diffuse the situation and no control over my three year old.  I felt helpless.  I was horrified and humiliated.  But most of all?  I was sad.  Sad because, this is not my girl.  I truly have never witnessed such behavior from her.

By the time we got home, Chris was waiting for us at the front door and he took it from there - mostly because I simply couldn't deal.  In a half asleep state, she continued to whimper while she had a stern talking to.  We put her in time out and took away a few of her favorite things and had her apologize to me and explained that behavior is unacceptable.  Basically, we tried to cover all of our bases in teaching her a lesson.

But really?  The lesson is for me.  Parenting is a continuos process and there is always room for improvement.  There is no place for judgement because it is likely that you will find yourself in a similar saturation at some point or another.  Here's to praying for more wisdom and patience in the days, weeks and years ahead because this parenting thing is no small task.