A to Z: Tantrums
I've just finished a book called Can I Give Them Back Now? The Aargh to Zzz of Parenting, by Joanna Simmons and Jay Curtis. Again, another great book with a naff title to add to my list, which only leads me to conclude that by the time these writers finish writing the book, they're much too exhausted to come up with a halfway decent title. I came across it at the library, flinched at the title, and decided to try it out anyway, and I'm glad I did. It is very dark, immensely funny, uncannily accurate and best of all, it says it like it is when it comes to describing the ambivalent feelings associated with parenthood.
I loved it so much, I'm going to spend the next few entries quoting from it, partly because I want these paragraphs for keepsies, but mostly because more people should really read this book! I also very rarely buy books, except the ones I have really enjoyed, and this title is going on my list for my next Book Depository order, so there you go.
Let's start with this for today. It is very apt considering how my morning with The Bun went:
TANTRUMS
It's a tantrum cliché that children stamp their feet, fling themselves to the floor and pound their fists like extras in an am-dram performance of The Crucible, but it's a cliché for a reason. They actually do it! If you have the misfortune to be in public when this happens, then added to your personal misery and alarm is the woe of feeling that everybody is watching. Which they are, because a child in full tantrum is a compelling sight. The chutzpah! The conviction! The complete lack of self-consciousness!
Of course, everyone is also watching you, to see how you deal with this fascinating predicament. Your child has thrown down the tantrum gauntlet, and you must take it up, but do you do it in a patient, sympathetic way or in a wrestling him off the premises way? That's a tough one. No one really knows how to deal with tantrums. Obviously, you should stay calm, but dealing with a red-faced, frothing three-year-old whose only concern is his own warped, infantile sense of justice and who has more energy than the National Grid when it comes to expressing his discontent is provocation of the highest order. Part of you may feel sorry for him as he spins into orbit, but another part will probably think, Dear God, child, would you ever just get a grip, you freakily emotional drama queen lunatic exhibitionist?
...
But in a way, don't you wish you could do that? When life throws you yet another cruddy hand, don't you wish you could just fling yourself to the ground and writhe uncontrollably, screaming and turning puce, instead of having to weigh it up in your mind, moan a bit to your mates and ultimately put a brave face on it? Tantrums are just so much more honest, and honesty is good. Isn't it?
I loved it so much, I'm going to spend the next few entries quoting from it, partly because I want these paragraphs for keepsies, but mostly because more people should really read this book! I also very rarely buy books, except the ones I have really enjoyed, and this title is going on my list for my next Book Depository order, so there you go.
Let's start with this for today. It is very apt considering how my morning with The Bun went:
TANTRUMS
It's a tantrum cliché that children stamp their feet, fling themselves to the floor and pound their fists like extras in an am-dram performance of The Crucible, but it's a cliché for a reason. They actually do it! If you have the misfortune to be in public when this happens, then added to your personal misery and alarm is the woe of feeling that everybody is watching. Which they are, because a child in full tantrum is a compelling sight. The chutzpah! The conviction! The complete lack of self-consciousness!
Of course, everyone is also watching you, to see how you deal with this fascinating predicament. Your child has thrown down the tantrum gauntlet, and you must take it up, but do you do it in a patient, sympathetic way or in a wrestling him off the premises way? That's a tough one. No one really knows how to deal with tantrums. Obviously, you should stay calm, but dealing with a red-faced, frothing three-year-old whose only concern is his own warped, infantile sense of justice and who has more energy than the National Grid when it comes to expressing his discontent is provocation of the highest order. Part of you may feel sorry for him as he spins into orbit, but another part will probably think, Dear God, child, would you ever just get a grip, you freakily emotional drama queen lunatic exhibitionist?
...
But in a way, don't you wish you could do that? When life throws you yet another cruddy hand, don't you wish you could just fling yourself to the ground and writhe uncontrollably, screaming and turning puce, instead of having to weigh it up in your mind, moan a bit to your mates and ultimately put a brave face on it? Tantrums are just so much more honest, and honesty is good. Isn't it?