I don't know what it says about me, but sometimes I feel like I can best relate to the boys when they're at their worst. Their meltdowns and tantrums bring me right back to my own moody childhood. Of course, now I'm experiencing these colorful displays of emotion in a whole new way.
On Friday afternoon, I promised I would pick up Ben and Paul from school and take all three boys to the library. Bringing my brood to the library doesn't strike fear in me the way it used to, when Gus would be liable to wander away from me, trying to open DVD cases, or worse, simply run away from me. No, my youngest has calmed considerably. He knows where his favorites are - Max and Ruby, Charlie and Lola, Batman - and he gravitates toward those. Don't get me wrong, he's no angel, but my crew is manageable these days.
This day, though, I should have been very fearful, for what ensued was disastrous. It started off fine. The boys found materials peacefully enough. It was checkout time when everything fell apart. Ever since the Menasha Library moved all checkout to the adult side, I've become devoted to using the self-checkout on the children's side. I'm simply more comfortable to keeping my kids confined to the side where noise is at least somewhat acceptable.
The self-checkout is great, and I've become pretty quick at using it, but when the boys want to "help," things take a turn for the worse. This day, Gus planted himself squarely in the center of the step stool. He's the worst possible assistant, because he is of no help and is in fact a hindrance. Paul, too, was adamant that he wanted to check out his items. He began to whine loudly and shove Gus. Gus, naturally, whined louder and pushed back.
The whole time, I was strenuously whispering-yelling and making threats. The situation did not improve, and I was worried that Gus soon would have a full-on tantrum or a fistfight would break out. It was time to extract Gus from the situation. I asked Ben if he would take over for me so I could take Gus out to the car. He was standing there obliviously, nose in one of his books, as the drama unfolded. "What?" he asked dazedly as I stood there unraveling.
Gus was kicking and fighting me as I lifted him, all of this on display for the friendly children's librarians. Gus threw his head back and hit against the pole behind him. That sent him into hysterics. Very, very loud hysterics. I walked quickly, shame-faced to the car and managed to get Gus strapped into his car seat.
I was furious. If there's one thing I don't handle well, it's when the kids embarrass me in public places. And how much worse does it get than the library, a place of quiet and decorum? (There's a slight chance that I belabored this point to Paul. When we were having our postmortem discussion about what had gone wrong, he said, tentatively, "I behaved badly in public?")
When Paul returned to the car, I meted out consequences to him and Gus - no screen time for the rest of the day. Gus didn't take it too hard, but Paul threw a fit and yelled the whole way home and into the house.
Paul's outrage went on and on until it petered out seemingly just as quickly as it arrived. He asked me in a sweet voice when we were leaving for our Chicago trip. I remember doing this to my mom when I was a kid. I had a temper, you see. I would go into a rage and then it would evaporate, and I would expect her to just catch up to me. I'm calm now. We're all good, right? Of course, my mom would still be fuming, as well she should have.
Experiencing this from the role of parent is quite a different situation. My frustration with Paul hadn't left me. I wasn't ready to make nice yet. I told him I was still angry and he needed to give me space. After a little while, I felt better, and we were able to move on. In a lot of ways, I'm the same way I was when I was a kid. I tend to get angry, though of course with better ways to manage it now, but I do get it over it fairly quickly.
Anger comes to us all. I think all I can do is give the boys techniques for better handling theirs and try to remain calm through their storms. I know from personal experience that the intense emotions of childhood do die down eventually. Until then, I guess we will be stuck in this cycle of outburst and forgiveness. Om ...
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