I realized something today as I watched Molly throw a fit in Publix because one of the bag people (politically correct?) tried to give her a balloon. When your child is pitching a full tilt, throw-self-on-floor, smack-at-strangers hissy fit, as a parent, you go through a series of emotions that mirrors the five stages of grief.
Stage 1: Denial
The first response when your child goes rogue is to simply deny that it’s happening. Yep, just keep throwing those groceries up on the belt, exchange pleasantries with the clerk, pick out some gum, all while ignoring the fact that your child is now dangling from the cart by the safety belt after various rage-induced contortions.
Another form of denial is to acknowledge that this child is out of control, but to pretend that she isn’t yours. I like to look around with a concerned expression and hold my hand over my eyes, like I’m trying to spot the offending parents; then turn back to the cashier and shrug, as if to say, “They just let anyone have kids these days, am I right?”
Stage 2: Anger
Obviously, once you admit to yourself that this thrashing child is yours and that Pandora’s box has, in fact, opened and all hell is now loose in your buggy, your blood will boil at your fit-throwing child. Yes, you understand that they are too little to deal with the world in a calm and rational way and that certain things (e.g., a free balloon) will send them spiraling into an abyss of wrath and confusion. But that doesn’t make you any less pissed that this is happening for the entire checkout line to see.
And it doesn’t just stop with your child. You’re mad at everyone in the effing store; hell, everyone who even thought about going to that store today. You’re mad at the bag person (still doesn’t feel right), the checkout clerk, that d-bag of a balloon, the balloon’s manufacturer, and your husband…because when things go wrong during your day of mothering, there’s really only one person to blame – the SOB who did this to you…twice.
Stage 3: Bargaining
Now, there’s a lot more bargaining that goes on in the O’Neal household than I care to admit. Seriously, these kids could turn a loose puzzle piece into a pet elephant after a day on Craigslist.
But when they’re acting a fool in public and all of the threats and punishments and stories of gypsies that steal bad children have lost their mojo, then I’m willing to offer up damn near anything (a sucker, a new doll, a unicorn) to get us out of there so that I can really let them have it.
Stage 4: Depression
In my experience, there are two kinds of depression that set in when your child has decided to become a crying, sweating lump of dead weight outside of your home. One is the kind that you leave in your child’s backside after the fifteenth fit of the day. Just kidding….ehh.
Then there’s the genuine article: “I’m a failure as a
parent. My child is never going to listen; things will never get better.” In
these moments, it’s easy to imagine your child as a grown adult, lying face
down on the floor of a conference room, wailing and beating his feet and fists
because an important contract fell through.
But this too shall pass…right into the next stage of back talk and
direct defiance, but more on that later.
Stage 5: Acceptance
The fifth and final stage of parenting grief as your child
continues his or her tantrum is acceptance. Thank, God! You made it. You have
now come to the realization that you can never leave your house ever, ever again.
And once you accept that, you can begin to cope.
I recommend online shopping, and if you’re looking for
someone to talk to, QVC has some really lovely operators.
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