May 20, 2008

Temper Temper

Last night, Lil C had the temper tantrum to surpass all temper tantrums. She had been agreeable all day, minus when she tried to pull Big I across the floor by her hair, but even that was fairly minor compared to what a usual day might hold. It was when we told her it was bath time that all hell broke loose.

While Mr. BBM carried her upstairs, she started air running and screaming at the top of her lungs as if possessed, "I don’t vant a bath" over and over again. Bath and bedtime is Mr. BBM’s time to spend with the girls. I get work done, do my PT, or just watch TV so I figured I’d let him handle it.

But when it sounded as if she was going to come crashing right through the ceiling of the living room from all the kicking she was doing in the bathroom, I thought I’d try to help. I could tell Mr. BBM’s patience was starting to wane.

Upon entering the bathroom, I realized I should have put on a wetsuit or something. There she was thrashing in the tub, her bottom lip quivering, and her breath catching on loud sobs. Big I, seated beside her in the tub was borderline hysterical (laughing, that is). Mr. BBM was soaked, as was the floor, that he was mopping up with extra towels.

In a very calm voice, I asked her what was wrong. "I don’t" sob sob "vant" sob sob "a take a baff!" she spit out like daggers, and then she started Irish dancing in the tub again. It’s absolutely amazing how much water one two-year-old can displace in a tub. Every time Mr. BBM tried to rinse her hair, she screamed louder.

When she was finally done (and the calm talking did seem to help), I helped her get dressed and then she just collapsed on my lap as she tried to collect herself. In another minute, she was fine.

I couldn’t help but think that two-year-olds have a fabulous way of dealing with things. You never have to guess what they’re thinking. They don’t bottle up their emotions and hold them in, thus making themselves miserable. I thought about how good it would feel to just let it all out there.

For example, last week when we got that low-ball offer, it would have felt great after those people got me so excited, to just totally freak out. Complete with crying and screaming, I could have flopped around in front of them and their agent to let them know how I really felt about their offer, instead of having to remain civilized and adult-like to tell them where they could stick their offer.

And then there’s my neighbor. Taking her trash can of last week and just slamming it down over-top of her head would have felt great. It also would have felt nice to just toss it at her when she emerged from her house. That’s what Lil C does when she finally decides to give Big I back her toy. She just launches it at her. It’s a nice technique and usually Big I tends to wish her little sister hadn’t given it right back to her. Or maybe, the screaming and flailing would have worked nicely with that too. A major freak-out on her porch might have gotten her attention a little better than simply moving her trash can for her.

Then there are the annoying telemarketers who try to keep you on the line and make you donate to their causes. Wouldn’t it be cool to just totally freak out? "I DON’T VANT TO GIVE YOU MONEY! I DON’T VANT TO GIVE YOU MONEY! I DON’T VANT TO GIVE YOU MONEY!" Something tells me that could be a whole lot more effective than, "I’m sorry, I’m not interested. No thank you. I can’t donate this year."

As we get older, we’re so concerned about what people will think of us. Big I wanted to remove one of her key chain things from her backpack today. She wanted to remove it because a friend of hers on the bus plays with it all the time, and it’s getting on her nerves. She took it off while in the car waiting for the bus. "What should I tell her Mommy?" she asked. "Just tell her you left it in your house today." "But that’s lying Mommy," she said. "O.k. would you rather tell her ‘I took it off because I didn’t want you playing with it?’" She thought for a second and then said, "No." "Then just tell her you left it in the car. That’s not a lie." She was satisfied with that response, but maybe she would have been better off just putting it out there. Maybe we should be civilizing two-year-olds less, and trying to get more real ourselves.

There are certainly some people in my life who deserve a good talking to, and if the stress of selling my house gets to me any more, they may just find me going all two-year-old on them.

Who would you like to go all two-year-old on?