At this very moment Xavier is in the throws of his very first tantrum. Sure he’s had little meltdowns before but at 28.5 months this a first. This is the real deal and it came on with a quickness. He wants to go vote again and really wants to go to the park RIGHT. NOW. even though he knows we’ll be headed there in about an hour. We’re big on positive parenting, gentle discipline and such around these parts but I have exhausted my bag of tricks. The talking and holding- failed miserably. The listening and empathizing- notsomuch. An aresenal of other diversionary and inclusive tactics all fell flat to his rampant screams of “I.WANT.TO.GO.TO.THE.PARK.MAMA!!!”

There are tears and wails and a little body thrashing about. It’s sad, it’s tough to see, breaking my heart. We decided that I would go over here while he worked his feelings out and we could talk after he calmed down. But the minutes are ticking away. And as they do my heart breaks more, because what he is feeling in this very moment, while slightly comical in excess and obviously wrought with toddler drama, is real. The extent of his want and conflict that we CAN’T go right this very moment, and that even if we did, it might not fix anything, is oh, so real.

And I’m torn. We obviously need to find some tools to help him deal a little bit better, some outlets if you will. But who am I to say he needs to “stop this right now!” because a nice long cry doesn’t quite fit into my schedule? What exactly is wrong with his behavior in this moment? It’s not acceptable to fall down on the floor and wail if we don’t get our way of course, but if he’s overwhelmed, if he thought something was going to happen and it didn’t and for whatever reason, this is the day that that hurts so very bad, then what’s the big deal? Goodness do I need time out for a good cry sometimes, and believe me it doesn’t always happen when I have alloted time. And so I’m torn still, between letting him naturally get this out and discover what he needs or swooping in to rescue him from his hurt.

In reality, sitting here from 10 feet away while he thrashes and cries I just want to join him. I want to hold him and wail and tell him how sorry I am that he aches as he does. I wish that I could protect him from these little hurts that seem so big and those big hurts he will inevitably experience down the road. But I know I can’t. And so as the wailing subsides, and his thrashing calms, he sits up and looks at me and says oh so sweetly, “I [cry hiccup] just want to [cry hiccup] go to the [cry hiccup] park, mama”. And all I know to do is look right back and say “I know you do honey, and we will”.

And we will, in an hour, as planned. Until then, he has climbed up on my lap to nurse, he instantly melted into my flesh. One little hand twirls my shirt as his little body hiccups and shakes away the torrent of emotion he just experienced. Maybe later we’ll talk about this, maybe I’ll wait for him to talk about his great big cry or maybe I’ll bring it up, we can hash it out and see if there would have been a better way. Diagnose, if you will, why this very morning something which seems so trivial turned his happy castle on it’s side. Or maybe we won’t.

Until then, I’ll just let him rest here, continue to kiss his head, breath in what little bit is left of my baby, hum his goodnight song and allow everything to be right with our world.