Tantrums and Other Antisocial Antics

At Sophia’s eighteen month checkup almost two months ago, she sat on my lap facing outward towards the nurse. The nurse commented on how big Sophia’s eyes are and said that she would be a heartbreaker, then chuckled and told me that Sophia rolled her eyes at the comment. Yep, I’m going to have my hands full. No doubt about it.

The Monday after her checkup Sophia simultaneously began the temper tantrum phase and the “I can do it myself” phase, probably catapulted by yours truly while attempting to put new shoes on baby-screams-a-lot. I bought her a pair of sandals in the hopes that someday winter will take a hint and acknowledge that it has overstayed its welcome, especially after the whole December flight travel crap.

Sophia seemed to love the new sandals as she spent the following hour after arriving home from the store putting the sandals on and taking them off again. Sometimes she even put each one on the correct foot, but all bets are off when I put the sandals on her. Totally unacceptable and apparently overstepping my bounds as a parent by trying to get her out of shoes she was quickly outgrowing. The child doesn’t like change. I blame her father for this. He purposely passed on those genes to piss me off-fa-fah.

I wound up putting her old shoes on that evening just so we could go out peacefully, and then it started. At a restaurant of all places. Thankfully it was a place we go to frequently. We placed a well mannered toddler in the highchair and without warning; this devilish contraption turned her into exorcist toddler minus the green spewing from the mouth. She rocked back and forth wailing as if we had permanently removed her callused thumb and told her she can’t suck it anymore. That’ll come soon enough, but I promise we won’t actually remove her thumb so put the phone call to CPS on hold for a little while. By the way, she absolutely loves her sandals now and will hang onto my shoulder and lift each foot for me to put them on or of course she’ll put them on herself.

We discovered that she calmed right down when I let her sit in the big people chair next to me. Seriously? She thinks she’s a big girl. She can’t see over the table and she drinks from a sippy cup, but she’s a ‘big girl’.

The next day was a sunny one and the beginning of swimming again. Oh what a relief! The pool was closed for the month of March for cleaning. I was so happy for some scheduled thing to do that I had a great day despite the little one throwing four separate tantrums including two in the locker room before and after swimming. All four occurring before naptime, and included her learning to bite me on one occasion that day. I think she hit the terrible twos at eighteen months. I guess the terrible eighteen months just doesn’t roll off the tongue like the terrible twos do. How long does this crap last anyway?

I need some scheduled activities to help me through the week, so I was happy to sign Sophia up for gymnastics which started two weeks before swimming picked up again but despite the age range listed on the catalog, Sophia simply was not ready for it. Gymnastics was too structured for us. Unlike swimming where we just recite nursery rhymes and encourage kicking across the pool interspersed with moms socializing while the kids from age six months to three years play with water toys, gymnastics insisted that for the entire time children from eighteen months to three years follow a course and listen to what the teacher says.

Through the course, there was a cushy red balance beam no more than six inches high. I tried to help Sophia follow the others but when it came to that spot, putting her on that was like trying to place a cat in a bath tub. She wouldn’t put her legs down at all and wiggled more the closer I brought her to it. She didn’t want to touch the red beam. She didn’t follow any of the directions and she basically just wanted me to carry her all through class. She did like the trampoline, but there was no, grab a toy and bounce on the trampoline with everyone in this class. They only allowed one kid at a time on the trampolines. It was expected that the kids jump while making their way across the trampoline and not linger while the rest had to stand in line and wait their turn.

Sophia is still learning to follow my instructions at home, “no standing on the chair”, “sit on your butt”, and we practice waiting our turn on the slides at the park. That is really enough structure for us right now, thank you very much. We will stick with swimming. Though my I think the nap time benefit of swimming is backfiring on me. She does take good naps but it’s also building her endurance. A couple weeks ago, Kurt and I went for a walk and the midget walked about three quarters of a mile pushing her own stroller.

The tantrums with biting went to the wayside after about three times. My only reaction to them was to yell, “OUCH” and not do what she wanted until she calmed down. But the tantrums continue and ignite with anything from not wanting to get dressed or get a diaper changed, refusing to use known signs or words to convey wants, and demanding to play with certain objects.

Yesterday Kurt and I went on a bike ride and insisted that Sophia wear a helmet. I think bicycle helmets are retarded but we have her wear one because she is up much higher sitting in a chair attached to the back of my bike than she would be if she could ride her own bike, and if I crashed, she would hit her head since she’s strapped in. Otherwise, I think they’re completely useless especially against getting hit from a phantom car that shouldn’t be on a bike trail anyway. In the few times I’ve ever fallen off a bike I’ve never hit my head. I have sprained a wrist but that’s it. I see whole families of helmet people all over. Dumb. And we saw a girl with her helmet family on a pristine powder blue bike wearing a helmet and knee pads. KNEE PADS on a bike, really? I wanted to run over and wrap the child in bubble wrap for her parents. Bubble child just couldn’t be protected enough. *eye roll* Apparently it’s beyond amazing that I survived my childhood because I rode my bike on streets without a helmet or knee pads, but I digress.

My little angel threw a fit as we tried to apply a helmet to her noggin. Secretly I’m thinking, “that’s my girl”, but we insisted. She stopped screaming and crying once I got going but she kept her grumpy face on for the five miles until we reached our playground stopping point, then she got all excited and was trying to get all the straps off to go play.

As long as there aren’t a bunch of rambunctious older kids on a playground Sophia runs to play areas and even engages other children. By engages I mean that she follows boys her own age and older girls. She also tries to politely play with their toys. One time a girl about six years old had a toy cell phone that Sophia wanted to play with. She stood next to the girl watching and then pointed and grunted, which is her own way of requesting just about everything. But if we take the child to a restaurant with a group of Kurt’s coworkers, which we do about once a month, she becomes clingy Velcro baby. She won’t even sit in a chair next to me or go to dad. She must sit on ME, and often times will curl up into a ball on my lap.

With some people, it doesn’t matter how often they come over to our house. Kurt had a friend over to watch motorcycle racing and all Sophia did was sit on Kurt’s lap and give him the baby evil eye from across the room. Sophia does do well with some individual friends though. I’ve gone to the zoo and other outings with a friend that Sophia actually let take her out of her car seat. Another friend who has a three month old of her own is able to get Sophia to laugh and interact with her. Yay for some toddler socialization.