Keeping the wobblies in check

When I get to the pearly gates and they're handing out the final report cards, I'm hoping that I at least get a passing grade for 'Parenting 101'. A credit or a distinction would be awesome - don't get me wrong! But my mummy L-plates have been getting so many dents in them lately, I reckon I'll be lucky to score a pass, and the comment, "Must pay more attention in class".

When you're pregnant, all you can think about is the birth; when you think about 'having a baby', you think about a snuggly newborn bundle who cries, eats and poos - not a toddler whose favourite word is 'no' and who can run faster than you, or a four year old who has discovered that pretending to shoot his sister with a cardboard cylinder gun gains both attention and shrieky noises.  Jack was such a placid baby that there was a picture of him in the dictionary next to the word "calm" (I swear I'm not making this up!) When he turned one, everyone warned us of his "emerging personality" (as far as I was aware, he already had one!), and that he would begin to challenge us. Nope.

When he turned two, everyone predicted a year of tantrums and tears, the typical "terrible twos". Instead, when my two year old son would get cross, or knew he had done something wrong, he would quietly go and put himself on the naughty stool. Seriously. And he would stay there until he was ready to say sorry (which retrospectively was fabulous, as by then I had a crawling Phoebalicious and it was all a bit too busy!)

When Jack turned three, I began hearing stories about children who didn't put a foot wrong until their third birthday. Seemingly calm children would turn feral overnight - this is what I should expect, given that Jack had to this point, defied the tanty odds. But no, he continued on his Zen way, removing himself from the group when he was angry, and returning when calm had been restored.

(May I just point out at this junction that Christian and I were always aware that none of this had anything to do with our parenting. We were just as stunned as the next person - especially given our fledgling parenting skills! Jack's placid personality, excellent sleeping habits, ability to eat anything put in front of him, and lack of screaming tantrums all came directly from him -  I can't claim any credit!!)

So when Jack turned four, the age when many toddler-related characteristics begin to fade, it came as a huge surprise when he began to throw massive wobblies. Now, to be fair, Jack's tantrums began with the emotional upheaval at the beginning of 2010, and so I don't blame him at all. It was his way of coping with the many upsets he experienced, and I only feel sorry for my little man. However, Jack's tantrums have been trotted out quite regularly in recent months, usually after a big day when he is exhausted or overwrought, and have been known to last for a few hours. Recently he has worked really hard on keeping his temper in check, and has managed to get a hold on himself if left alone in his room. We have tried just about everything to help him - speaking calmly, removing all of the toys from his room, holding him close, removing privileges, giving rewards, you name it, we've desperately tried it! But is would seem that other than a lessening in the duration of the angries, our parenting was just not making enough of a difference.

Today, I felt as though we had a small, albeit significant, win. The kids and I met Gertrude and her boys at a playcentre for what was a gorgeous day. My days with Gertie are now extremely limited, given that she is moving interstate in a few weeks, so today was a bit of a luxury. Jack and Phoebe absolutely love play days with Aunty Gert and her kids, so I knew we would have a lovely day together. I also knew that Jack would find leaving the playcentre difficult, so I worded him up as we drove in this morning. I told him he would get a five minute warning, a "one-last-thing" warning, and then we would say goodbye to our friends and go. If he threw a wobbly, there would be no more visits to a playcentre for a long time. As usual, he happily agreed, and throughout our three hours at Billy Lids, Jack was the perfect gentleman.

When it was time to go home, I gave him his five minute warning, and received a happy, "Ok Mum!". Five minutes later, I told him he could have one more turn on something, so he ran to the jumping castle and spent a few minutes bouncing. But when I started moving towards the pram and called out, "Ok Jack, it's time to go!", he ran in the other direction with the facial expression that I know so well. Undeterred, I packed the girls up and moved away. He ran up to me, sweaty haired, face flushed, hugged me and growled, "But I don't WANT to go!", and stamped his foot (which is still pretty cute, if you ask me!). I hunkered down, looked him dead in the eye and reminded him that he had made me a promise. Quickly, I asked him if he would like a drink for the car, and asked him to put his shoes on. For the first time in a very long time, my boy swallowed, breathed deeply, and held his anger in check. With a stormy face, he put his shoes on, held the door open, and walked out into the Camberwell street. By the time we got to the car, he was quite chipper, and he hugged Aunty Gert goodbye nicely.

Although to look at me you would only have seen a bedraggled mummy loading the car, inside I was doing the biggest happy dance - he had stopped his tantrum before it even started!!!!! My darling boy, whose screaming rages make me sick to my stomach with sadness, had let me know he was angry, and had held it together. I could not have been more proud if he had driven home himself (but gee, that would have been welcome too!) Now, I'm not crediting myself with this little success - the kudos should all go to Jack. But it's a significant win for our boy, and for our family, because it indicates yet another step towards complete recovery from the horrors of 2010. I know he was proud of himself too, because he told Daddy all about it when he came home. I know it might seem funny to be so proud of a nearly-five-year-old child not throwing a tanty, but he's come a long way, and dealt with so much...and besides, perhaps now I might be able to brave Woolworths with the three kids and a trolley again?? Perhaps not!!