The Look of Anger Management

Call me Mother of the Year.

Nana has this look that could freeze hell. Papa would yell when his children did wrong. Said children would cry, based on fear or remorse, depending on the situation. Nana would not yell, but she would stand quietly and shoot her children a look.

I need that look. Badly.

In the last couple of weeks, Peanut's temper tantrums have been increasing both in size and regularity. I've been taking the excellent advice of other Mommy Gurus (no, I'm not the only one) and doing my level best to ignore them. The ones he throws at home are easily dealt with. Time out, and Mommy pretends she's deaf until screaming ceases and penitent hiccupping commences. It's the public ones that have me worried. Time out does not come well to the out-and-about Peanut.

Case in point: we're playing at home with a favorite cohort. Peanut has been instructed to share his trains. Nothing doing. MOTY argues that a big boy shares his toys with others. Begin Crouching Toddler, Shrieking Peanut sequence. Peanut ends up in his room. Apologies come, and all is well.

The public scenario is a bit different. We're once again not playing nicely, and I decide it's time to get while the getting's good. Peanut has other ideas, and proceeds to fling a twenty-minute-long temper tantrum. It probably would have lasted longer, but that's when I finally got him into shoes and coat and hauled him out the door. Crying stopped as soon as we left.

Boomer can usually stop the tantrums more quickly, and I suspect it's because he's massive compared to the Peanut. I'm firmly in the Divinely Delicate category, and it's not making this easier. Thus the need for a look that my child will fear. Or at least not laugh at. Or tranquilizers. For me. Whatever works.

I must repeat: It's only a phase. This too will pass.

Call me Mother of the Year.