I wasn’t writing a blog when my two were toddlers. More’s the pity, as I would have had plenty of contemporary material to draw from, like a journalist reporting on current news stories live to camera from war-torn parts of the world. Instead, time has healed the battle scars, so I can now look back on those ground opening, jaw dropping embarrassing situations that are mandatory during the toddler years; from a more mature, unbiased and objective perspective.
I was reminded of just how ridiculous toddlers can be when I watched a guy trying to strap his son into his car seat in the supermarket car park recently. We have all been there – your child summons up a super-strength to stiffen like a board, and no matter how hard you try, no matter even if you do the knee-double-hand trick - they just don’t bend. No matter how hard this chap was trying, his son was stubbornly refusing to co-operate. Rigid, set at a right angle, he was repeatedly screaming that he wanted to go home, as the dad was trying his hardest to explain through clenched jaw and gritted teeth, that, yes, he did too, but we can’t go home until you are in.. your.. seat! The struggle ensued for quite a while, but finally one of them must have relented as it went very quiet and they drove off on their merry way to face more interesting challenges that owning a toddler throws at you. I recall many a supermarket carpark incident where I would spend over 20 minutes wrestling with the wriggly octopus my stubborn, unyielding toddler, had become; while his baby brother screamed blue murder forcing fellow shoppers to either ask if I was alright ‘YES JUST GO AWAY’ or give me condescending cursory glances which I would feel burn the back of my neck.
I think when you are in the toddler phase you are submerged so far in it you can’t see that there is ever an end to the exhaustion, the questions, the unpredictable nature of the toddler. The Terrible Twos are a big sticky mess which last, as far as I can remember from about 15 months to around 4 years of age, so the likelihood is if you have two or three children, there could be potentially around 8 solid years of Toddler-gate. Sorry.
One particular eventful trip to the supermarket when my eldest was around 3, stuck with me. I recall him dutifully helping with my shopping, patiently selecting items on request – bread, loo roll, apples. Most hit the bottom of the trolley with a thud but hey, he was helping. We reached the wine section and I thought it wise to select a bottle – it being made of glass and all that - and carefully placed into said trolley which sparked one of the most heartfelt, gut wrenching explosions I have ever witnessed from a child – mine, or anybody else’s. Toddler-Boy wanted to help, obviously, but even after careful explanation that it was probably best mummy placed the wine in herself; he threw himself on the floor, screamed, and started wailing, ‘I want the wine, I want the wine,’ over and over and over again. For about 30 minutes. Bright red in the face, his words mingled with snot, his sobs and howls reverberated around our local Tesco. Needless to say, the Tuts and Looks we received – mainly from other mums with impeccably behaved cherubs, just did not help. Poor child, screaming he wants his mother’s wine. What sort of people are they? I have filed this incident into a part of my brain which has become pickled over time, so cannot even remember how I got out of the situation – whether I just picked him up and left, without tackling the checkout, or whether I completed the shop – all I can remember is the horror of being judged by others and wanting to disappear into a big hole there and then, as the scene unfolded in front of me like a terrible episode of Supernanny.
Toddlers are inquisitive creatures who delight in sticking their stubby little fingers into holes and exploring their environment with their tongues; each milestone reached with a squeal of delight as they pee in the right direction and manage to eat a meal without throwing it across the room. They are fickle and picky, whose moods can change with a finger-click. Tantrums kicked off because it was the wrong fork. Meltdowns because they couldn’t eat the wrapping on the dishwasher tablet. Tears of woe because the cloud in the sky changed shape. Hysteria because they couldn’t sit on my ACTUAL lap with me when I was trying to go to the loo. Outbursts of audacity as mummy patiently explains that no, you cannot purposely catch headlice just so you can keep them as pets. All True.
These little things that try and test us, normally do so just when we are at our most fragile. Rock-bottom even. By the time your child is a toddler, you may have a new-born in tow – or have just about survived 2-3 years of being a new parent. Tired, exhausted, unappreciated, coping on perpetual unbroken sleep. The tears of a toddler can really sting when you are feeling so, so shattered. We wipe bottoms and noses, wash sheets and towels more than thirty times a day, we pander to their quirks, their frustrations, we forgive their volatile moods and scrape untouched meals into the bin. We rub cut knees with Savlon, kiss sleepy eyes and protect them with bear hugs promising them the world. At the end of our tethers, with bitten down nails and stains on our shirts, we live day by day, until one day the toddler phase has passed. They take off their stabilisers and head on without us. They eat. They even sleep - and yes - they actually wipe their own behinds. Those of us with older kids can’t believe how we did it. How we managed to juggle it all. We need medals and pats-on-backs for surviving something I personally think is one of the most challenging aspects of parenting. Tantrums that once floored us as we questioned our own sanity, are now but distant memories.
For those of us who have passed this stage of surrealism - don’t be the judgey one in the supermarket next time you see a struggling parent losing the battle. Don’t Tut or Look or Compare. Like learner drivers on the road – we have all been there. Have patience.
And for any of you still in the midst of this period of instability and irrational behaviour, it does get better. I promise. And then guess what? You become a less than prepared mother of teens - which is a whole different story.
© The Real Tilly Fairfax
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