This blog today is dedicated to all of those moms out there who are still dealing with temper tantrums. I am fortunately past that phase with my children, and I really don't think my oldest ever really had a bad temper tantrum. I do recall having to carry him, kicking and screaming, out of a park once. So that certainly qualifies. And I have blocked out one episode at Target which left me sweaty and crying in the parking lot for over an hour. But this is the child that as I was changing his diaper said, "I feel so dehydrated." So he has been pretty verbal which eliminated many tantrums. My second child talked early too, but was born with colic and LOTS of emotion. More than his little body could sustain. The other day I found an e-mail that I had sent my friends about one of his tantrums. Even if your children are older, or even if you don't have any children, this still might give you a laugh. I don't really even remember being all that mad during this tantrum because it sort of seemed like a lab experiment gone wrong. It was scary and maddening and fascinating all at the same time. I never dreamed that I would offer up this e-mail from years ago as fodder for a blog, but it's just too strange not to share. Maybe there are some moms out there who will see the light at the end of the tunnel.
The funniest part is that I sent it out in response to a church morning devotion, so that was the title on it. I forgot to change the title to everyone at my church. It is clearly not a morning devotion, more like a morning glimpse of hell. So I retitled it. Here it is...
The funniest part is that I sent it out in response to a church morning devotion, so that was the title on it. I forgot to change the title to everyone at my church. It is clearly not a morning devotion, more like a morning glimpse of hell. So I retitled it. Here it is...
Tuna Trouble
This is most certainly not a morning devotion, but nevertheless might make someone smile out there
who is having a bad day.
This all started when I offered my youngest a bite of tuna fish. I was making a batch for
myself, and since he had never tried any (I was always hesitant because of all the mercury),
I decided to offer him a bite. BIG mistake. HUGE.
I asked if he would like to try some. He said yes, so I put a little piece on a fork and held it out to him.
He approached cautiously, but smiling. He got close to the fish but then backed away. This went on
over and over again. He wanted it, but then again he didn't want it. After going back and forth with this
one too many times, I finally gave up and put the bowl of tuna fish back into the fridge.
He approached cautiously, but smiling. He got close to the fish but then backed away. This went on
over and over again. He wanted it, but then again he didn't want it. After going back and forth with this
one too many times, I finally gave up and put the bowl of tuna fish back into the fridge.
He completely melted. He began sobbing at the refrigerator door, begging for the tuna fish. This went
on for a while and against my better judgement, I got him one more bite. The same thing happened...yes,
no, yes, no. Exasperated, I threw his paper plate with a clump of the untried fish into the garbage. He
went into complete spaz out mode. Red faced. Glazed eyes. Sweating. Screaming bloody murder.
He gets the fish out of the trash, and I take the plate away from him, put it back in the trash, and then
stand in front of the trash. He throws himself down in front of the trash and rolls around screaming,
occasionally hurting his head on the hardwood floor because he is thrashing so much. I get disgusted and
leave the room and go to the bedroom and lay down on the bed. Mommy needed a time out. He comes back there totally hysterical,
and doesn't see me laying on the bed. The bathroom door is shut and he thinks I'm behind the door. He
stands at the door sobbing until finally he sees a pile of clean clothes lying on the recliner. He (while still in
the full throes of a red-faced screaming fit) decided to throw all the clean clothes on the floor. I guess to
get me back for my mishandling of the tuna. Finally he sees me and follows me back out to the kitchen.
I begin laughing because it's either that or end up at the funny farm sitting in a corner chewing on my own
socks. Sooooooo......he sees me laughing and gets so mad that he is jumping up and down and hysterically
crying even harder. Ok, so there is one tiny piece of fish for him left....this is it....it's the finals. I give
him a Gerber fork with tuna and a piece of pickle. This is his chance to redeem himself. Well, he gets even
more hysterical, knocks the tuna and pickle off the fork, and is freaking out rolling around on the floor in
circles around the fish.
on for a while and against my better judgement, I got him one more bite. The same thing happened...yes,
no, yes, no. Exasperated, I threw his paper plate with a clump of the untried fish into the garbage. He
went into complete spaz out mode. Red faced. Glazed eyes. Sweating. Screaming bloody murder.
He gets the fish out of the trash, and I take the plate away from him, put it back in the trash, and then
stand in front of the trash. He throws himself down in front of the trash and rolls around screaming,
occasionally hurting his head on the hardwood floor because he is thrashing so much. I get disgusted and
leave the room and go to the bedroom and lay down on the bed. Mommy needed a time out. He comes back there totally hysterical,
and doesn't see me laying on the bed. The bathroom door is shut and he thinks I'm behind the door. He
stands at the door sobbing until finally he sees a pile of clean clothes lying on the recliner. He (while still in
the full throes of a red-faced screaming fit) decided to throw all the clean clothes on the floor. I guess to
get me back for my mishandling of the tuna. Finally he sees me and follows me back out to the kitchen.
I begin laughing because it's either that or end up at the funny farm sitting in a corner chewing on my own
socks. Sooooooo......he sees me laughing and gets so mad that he is jumping up and down and hysterically
crying even harder. Ok, so there is one tiny piece of fish for him left....this is it....it's the finals. I give
him a Gerber fork with tuna and a piece of pickle. This is his chance to redeem himself. Well, he gets even
more hysterical, knocks the tuna and pickle off the fork, and is freaking out rolling around on the floor in
circles around the fish.
I have mentally decided that this child will never again be offered Omega 3's in his life.
I lean in to pick up the pickle and he hits Mach 3. Apparently I am supposed to step away from the tuna.
I at least manage to put the tuna back on the fork, which is now laying in the middle of the kitchen floor.
(It's been a half an hour by the way). So now he's on the floor having a fit, rolling around the tuna on the
fork like a beached mackerel. Finally after exhausting himself, he is just sprawled on the floor staring at the tuna on the fork, like
it's the holy grail or something. He is so tired from screaming for so long, his breathing is labored.
I lean in to pick up the pickle and he hits Mach 3. Apparently I am supposed to step away from the tuna.
I at least manage to put the tuna back on the fork, which is now laying in the middle of the kitchen floor.
(It's been a half an hour by the way). So now he's on the floor having a fit, rolling around the tuna on the
fork like a beached mackerel. Finally after exhausting himself, he is just sprawled on the floor staring at the tuna on the fork, like
it's the holy grail or something. He is so tired from screaming for so long, his breathing is labored.
Finally, after what seems like hours, he gets up with the fork and tuna and wields it like he is doing the last lap of
the torch handoff at the Olympics. I clearly don't want tuna all over my house so I put the tuna away and
try to distract him with cartoons which doesn't work. He's in such a frenzy that I think his neurological
system is shutting down. He simply CANNOT calm down. So I take him downstairs to the
playroom...far, far away from any tuna or any mackaral, halibut, or bass for that matter. He WILL NOT
settle down, gets even more hysterical and then proceeds to vomit red berry Juicy Juice on my carpet.
That was it. He was done with the fit (approaching an hour long) and went off to play. He even handed
me something, I thanked him, and he said, "You're welcome," like nothing had ever happened.
Anyhow, I decided that day that I hate tuna fish.
the torch handoff at the Olympics. I clearly don't want tuna all over my house so I put the tuna away and
try to distract him with cartoons which doesn't work. He's in such a frenzy that I think his neurological
system is shutting down. He simply CANNOT calm down. So I take him downstairs to the
playroom...far, far away from any tuna or any mackaral, halibut, or bass for that matter. He WILL NOT
settle down, gets even more hysterical and then proceeds to vomit red berry Juicy Juice on my carpet.
That was it. He was done with the fit (approaching an hour long) and went off to play. He even handed
me something, I thanked him, and he said, "You're welcome," like nothing had ever happened.
Anyhow, I decided that day that I hate tuna fish.
Love,
Mel
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