The Epic Tantrum

11-9-11

The Epic Tantrum

When Dax was shacked up in my uterus, I knew he would be stubborn. There was a certain frustration I could feel in his kicks that told me he would be a force to be reckoned with. When the doctor popped my water when I was in labor, he told us this was the first time he ever saw a baby move up higher instead of dropping down into position. When Dax is set in his ways, he is a tough bird.

I have dealt with many a tantrum with him. We have had kicking, screaming, even one incident in which he threw up because of the struggle he and I had with him getting into his car seat.

What makes it even worse at times is his super hero strength. He is already strong, but then add to that rage and adrenaline, and you have hurricane Dax. I really wonder if I should tattoo somewhere on his body one of those warning labels that says contents may explode if agitated.

On Saturday, Dax seemed to be his usual, jovial self. I didn’t sense any storm brewing. We got to the soccer field, bid Bobby and Ken a good game as they headed to their field, and we set up our banner. Practice before the game was a lot of fun and I could tell our team was ready for the soccer game.

Our coach even told me to be the in field coach, which made me all kinds of proud. This prestigious duty means I would direct the players on where they should be and also decide who would take throw ins or kicks. The game would be a fun one.

By the end of the first quarter, we were up by 2 points. We were all fired up and I could tell we were really playing well together. Coach Ed then announced who was out for that quarter. With a team of 5 players, we had to rotate so that everyone got to play 3 quarters. One player would play the whole game, but the following week they would only play 3, and Ed kept a good record of this.

Ed told Dax that it was his turn to sit out.

I don’t like it when my kids are disappointed. I am sad when they are sad, and angry when somebody wrongs them. I will be their biggest supporter.

What I cannot support is when my child makes a complete ass out of himself.

Dax broke down into deep sobs when he heard this news. Dax acted as though he was told he was kicked off the team, not merely out for a quarter because it was his turn. He has always been rather sensitive to his turn to be out, taking it as a punishment rather than realizing that in fact this was just a way to let everyone play an equal amount.

The second quarter was about to begin, but I had a 5 year old attached to my leg with force. I had to get back out on the field. I also needed to be a parent. What was the correct action? On one hand, I felt like I needed to handle my responsibility to the team and Dax needed to suck it up. On the other hand, I knew that the team had a coach, and I should be the one handling the situation with my own son.

Thankfully, my mom was there. She told me she had Dax and told me to go back on the field. Turns out, her parenting also kicked in and she knew I had a responsibility to the team, and knew that she could handle the kicking and screaming Dax, who was now being held back from going onto the field.

Truthfully, my head was not in the game. I had massive guilt, watching my mom struggle to keep her grandson from running onto the field. I did my best to not let the other 4 kids down, but when I saw my mom essentially having to drag him away from our game, I knew I needed help. I tagged in Ed and walked over to my child.

He was screaming with my mom. When I got there I told him he needed to calm down, and for the most part he did. I explained to him what I needed to have happen. I knew I had to be stoic. I couldn’t just let him be upset on this one. I also felt like I needed to show my mom that I would not buckle under the pressure from his fight.

I told Dax that in order for him to be allowed to play, he would need to come over and cheer on his team. He promptly whined that he wanted to play on my iPad. I told him this was not an option and that good sportsmanship would be adhered to. He argued, so I told my mom to take him to the other field. She didn’t bat an eye at this, and took him away. As I walked back to the game, there was so much guilt in my heart. I also felt a sense of pride. I did what so many parents now days don’t do. I spoke rationally to an angry kindergartener. I explained the consequences of his actions and let him know that it would not be tolerated. He was given the opportunity to play the rest of the game. Instead, because of his lack of compliance, he was denied said opportunity. Isn’t that what is really better for him? He has to know that rules are important and even though his mother understands his frustration, she also knows that teaching a child that by pitching a fit he gets what he wants is no way to parent.

I don’t know that Dax will understand this lesson now. I don’t even know if he will understand it for many years to come. But perhaps this lesson wasn’t as much for him as it was for me. Despite my son’s disappointment in playing such a small amount of his game, he still loves me. He still is excited to see me and still looks forward to his soccer game this coming weekend. Will he flip out when he is subbed? I don’t know. I will prep him as best I can, knowing that even by being proactive will not eliminate all risk when it comes to his feisty nature.

My lesson has been learned. I will stick to my guns, and be confident that all of his hurt feelings and disappointment are for a good reason. Rules are there to help guide us, and even though they can be hard to comprehend, we need to know to follow them, both as a child and as a parent.

High Noon

11-4-11

High noon.

That’s when all the trouble begins. Isn’t it always? Thankfully this isn’t a showdown between good and evil. But it does present the dilemma.

Both Bobby and Dax have soccer games at the same time tomorrow.

Ok, sure, this doesn’t mean the end of the world, but in the land or parenting, this represents so very much in a young child’s mind. Which game will each parent watch? Does it mean mom loves me less because she watched my brother’s game instead of mine?

Oh, but it gets even more complicated. I am the assistant coach/team mom for Dax’s team, whereas Ken is the assistant coach/ref for Bobby’s team. I am also the team mom for Bobby’s team. This means there are certain responsibilities for Ken and I to be present during the bulk of our team’s game. This also means that we will effectively miss much of the opposite child’s game.

It would not be such a big deal had Bobby not said these very words to me the other day.

“Mom, why do you always go with Dax and I go with Daddy? If Daddy dies, who do I get to hang out with?”

What you would have heard next had you been standing there was the splash of my heart falling into my stomach acids and burning up inside.

It was true, though. Since Dax was an infant, I ended up being the parent with him. It came out of necessity at first. He was the baby, and Bobby was older, so as mom who also had the milk source, I held Dax while Ken held Bobby. It also didn’t help that Dax was hell bent on allowing no one but myself to comfort his cries.

But as the years have passed, I don’t know why this has kind of been the norm. It certainly isn’t due to any known favoritism. I adore Bobby just as much as Dax and I find their company equally entertaining. Bobby did get to bond with Ken for a good year with his tagging along to Ken’s classes. Dax didn’t get to do this as much, and this in turn also meant that he and I spent greater amounts of time together alone.

Whatever the reason, this presents a certain concern when it comes to game time tomorrow. Although the boys have not mentioned it, I am sure it will come up once we hit the field. The hope is that since the fields are supposed to be next to each other, I should be able to catch both games. In addition to this, Dax’s game is significantly shorter, which allows for watching the last part of Bobby’s game.

I still have this horrible feeling of guilt, though since it will mean feelings may be hurt.

I wish I knew how it would all turn out in advance, but I know that I will just have to wait for the sun overhead to signify the beginning. Wish me luck.