I know that some days around here it seems like my life has stopped revolving around anything but our sweet little girl. And in some moments, that’s actually true. But it’s not my day in, day out truth. I’m still chasing after my one-year-old for a good portion of the day. I’m still focused on my clients and my work and my writing. I’m still spending time with my hubs. So tonight, I figured it was high time to work in a little bit more about our daily life again. Not that I’m going to stop writing about Addison…she’s still a huge part of my life and I still have a lot on my heart about her.
Anyway…little Ricky has decided that it’s time for the terrible twos to start. Well, he keeps telling me that he’s three. Except he’s one. So I guess it’s the terrible 1-2-3’s?
I feel like the terrible twos are something that parents dread until they actually hit. Like this feeling that your house will fall apart, world will crash down around you and your child might completely lose it kind of dread. And while the tantrums are certainly not my favorite (especially when they happen in the middle of Target when I’m only a quarter of the way through my list), it’s really not the end of the world.
Maybe that’s weird to think that way. And maybe it’s totally on par with how most parents think. I guess I don’t really know. But – dare I actually say this? – it’s not as terribly awful as I was thinking it would be (I’m totally knocking on wood as I’m writing this).
I mean, yes. Tantrums suck. Ricky can have a little breakdown when he wants to go in the front door of our house instead of the garage door, but the front door is locked. He really screams when I won’t let him play in the dishwasher because obviously, the dishwasher is THE place for toddlers to play these days and I am just the meanest mommy ever for saying that’s not safe. OH – and when he doesn’t want to get into the car? Yeah, good luck with that whole car seat thing. It’s a battle.
BUT: I’ve learned that as long as I don’t lose my cool, he gets his composure back relatively quickly. I let him cry and yell all he wants, but I don’t engage. I keep doing whatever the heck else I’m doing. Ok – if he’s doing something dangerous, I obviously intervene. But for the most part, it’s just easier to let him get his emotions out, and within a few minutes he’s back to being the happy, sweet boy that he usually is.
Basically, becoming a parent has given me 108 times the amount of patience I had prior to parenthood. And…hoping that it doesn’t actually get worse…I think we can survive this whole terrible twos thing.
So tell me: how did you handle the terrible twos at your house?