Monday, June 4, 2012

Category 4

Temper tantrums. They have taken on a new meaning for me these days. Before I thought they were emotional outbursts stemming from some selfish well that bubbled up and oozed over everything, permeating it with snotty retorts, eye rolling and patent leather Mary Jane’s tapping out the anger.

But like I said that was before The Boy gained some independence. Before The Boy learned how to kick not out of frustration but with the intent to do harm. Before the biting could sever not just your hand but all of you out of the situation. And way before he understood the power of ear piercing, glass shattering screeching. 

Now temper tantrums are violent and loud and scary. The rage inside his little body is just beyond me. And like how I imagine the devil being expelled from a boy during an exorcism, his limbs flail about and saliva sprays from his mouth and snot runs from nose, both nostrils, making his face a hot pink slip and slide. Trying to hold on to him is a little like trying to stay on a mechanical bull. You know that is gonna buck and spin. You just don’t know when the asshole running the controller is gonna do it. You’re all prepared to buck and the little slimy sucker spins. And what takes all of this to a whole new level now is the ear piercing screaming. The one that starts loud by everyone’s standards but we know that its just a warning. Juanito says The Boy is like a tornado these days. Just the right atmospheric conditions can set him off and you know where or when he will touch down or how much damage he will do when it does eventually happen. I could parallel his screeching to perhaps a tornado whistle/warning system. But now imagine that said whistle is right in your ear.

And it’s biting you.

I know that these are the terrible 2s.  I know that this is his way of handling situations he feels out of control in.  I know that we the adults need to identify the time he is testing us and the times the limits test him back.  I know all the articles I've read on handling the Terrible Twos.  I know what my sisters say/did.  I know what friends say.did.  None of this logic is with me when a two year old is kicking in the crotch and/or stomach screaming blood curdling screams "No Daddy"

When I tell people stories of these microbursts, they ask, “What do you do?” All I can say is that I don’t hit him. Now before you call Child Protective Services (CPS) on me hear me out. I love my son. Words will never be enough to express my love for my son. In those moments, those, sweating, snotty, whirling violent thrusts of independence and parental control, the only thing I can focus on is that I love my child and do not react. If an adult came at me like The Boy does I would swing back to protect myself and then call the authorities because that guy is foaming at the mouth and it ain’t right. But when its your child, the extension of all that is good between you and your partner, who is now most obviously possessed by the devil, all you can remember to do is hang on and not go to that instinct.

I am only thankful that when the neighbors do call CPS to report the apparent child abuse it will be Daddy who gets in trouble.  It sounds like Mommy is never around. 

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