Pantyhose and tantrums

We’ve all been in the grocery store at one time or another and heard "that kid" throwing a tantrum while “that mother” desperately tries to keep her cool and handle the situation with as much grace as she can muster. Despite my gallant efforts I usually find myself making all kind s of judgments on the motherly technique and the childish behavior. I will say however that I have been less harsh since I’ve joined the Mommy Club, and sometimes I even shoot the mom a sympathetic glance as the child of hers goes berserk in the cart. Still, my sympathy only goes so far…It’s nonexistent if the kid is tall enough to go on roller coasters at an amusement park and it quickly fades if it happens more than once within my earshot. So much for gallantries I suppose, I’m still a judgmental critic.   

And I suppose that is why God is apparently trying to beat this judgment out of me through the lungs of my 1 year old.  For the first time in my mothering life I was “that parent” with “that kid” in the grocery store! It was an honest-to-goodness red faced, teary eyed, blood curdling scream, kinda outburst. It is funny how quickly rage, shame and befuddlement can so rapidly mold together into one emotion when it’s YOUR child putting on the unappealing show for your fellow shoppers. And it was all over those little plastic balls that hold women’s pantyhose! Seriously Francis!? I tried to stay calm as a cucumber as I asked him to, “Please put them back.” But he continued to stack them one after another into a little pile in his chubby arms. 

Side Note: Don’t ask me why the kid was out of the cart in the first place- mistake #1- But he’s just so cute waddling around the store with his big head and pigeon toed step. End Side Note. 

  

So I wisely made a threat I would follow through with (parenting tapes would be proud), “Put them back or you’re going back in the cart,” I say. Of course he smiles up at me as I see him cling tighter to his prize. “Ball!” He says, “No,” I say… You get the picture. It ends with me ripping the pantyhose out of his hands and tossing him in the cart. 1 point mom! The tears start to well up, the mouth drops open, the face gets beet red and out of that angelic little mouth comes the most tortured scream of all times! Umm…500 points Francis! (Looking back I could have let him carry them around the store and dropped them back off when I was finished shopping – but I didn’t think of that- of course!) Now usually he will whine for a minute but I can distract him quickly- no luck this time, apparently pantyhose in a plastic ball were the MOST AMAZING thing he had ever seen. I mean he was going bonkers!!! 

Let me fully paint this picture for you – So I bend my head down to his ear to whisper, “Hush - right now!” But his little fingers get tangled in my hair and that Spitfire kid of mine pulls it!!! He pulls it!!! He’s pulling my hair, screaming in my face!!! People are staring as I try to push the cart (away from my growing audience), untangle my hair and silence my child. I finally free myself from him, stand up straight and give him what my husband would call the look of death. I take a deep breath, pat down my battered hair and try to handle the situation WITH AS MUCH GRACE AS I CAN MUSTER.  I couldn’t let him win by giving in, but I also didn’t want to make any more of a scene than I already had – I was at a complete loss, and all the stupid parenting book techniques I had planned on using in a time like this vanished into thin air. With every shriek I seemed to lose just a little more rational thought… So I did what any pathetically lost mother would do, I ignored him all together, and I kept right on shopping. But the ear-piercing screams did anything but stop. Stubborn little imp (I wonder where he gets that)!? I clenched my teeth and smiled at my observant audience as I went up and down the aisles. I should have just started doing the Barbie Doll wave like a beauty queen on a parade float.  And so to complete my facade as the most ill-equipped mother of the year I thought, “What the HaY!” And I strolled my way down the wine aisle to choose a nice bottle of Pinot Grigio to go with the dinner I had planned. As I browsed the bottles I made sure to keep the cart FAR AWAY from the wall of glass! After seeing (and feeling) what he had done to my hair I wanted to make sure he didn’t wreak the same havoc on precious wine bottles.  Suddenly the screaming ceased, he sniffled and with a raspy voice pointed, “Doos, doos peesssss,” Meaning, “Juice, juice please.” He had seen the apple juice at the end of the aisle, and quickly the pantyhose were a faint memory. So I bought that freakin’ apple juice! But I didn’t give him any until we got home. 1 more point for mom! 

On the drive home I kept an eye on him in my rearview mirror, wanting to assure myself that I hadn’t damaged his spirit by ignoring his vigorous and violent attempts to communicate his need for pantyhose. He laughed and nodded his head to the music the whole way – completely unfazed! I, on the other hand still feel like my spirit is a little damaged, my confidence a little shaken and my dislike for pantyhose a little more intense.

P.S. I know that there are all kinds of judgments running through your head right now, better ways I could have handled the situation, and I completely agree - But if you would like to share them with me you must first let me grab you by the hair and scream in your face while you try to explain yourself, then we’ll see what kind of master parenting plan you can come up with.