Dealing With Tantrums

My son is the size of a two year old – with the strength of an ox. It seems my son’s tantrums are getting worse as he age. He kicks, he screams, he throws his head around like a wrecking ball, he rolls around on the floor, he cries big old crocodile tears, and screams on the top of his lungs. It doesn’t matter where we are, if he doesn’t get his way, he’ll throw one faster than you can say “no”. I used to call him Quick-Draw McGraw because of how fast he throws tantrums over the the smallest things.  He’s the fastest in the West – and the East.

When he throws one of his famous tantrums, I just sit him down and look at him. If I need to finish cooking, I just walk away and let him have it. There’s nothing I can do to stop the tantrums because I’m stubborn. If I mean no, that’s exactly what I mean. So if he can’t have something, he’s not going to get it. I put my foot down and he hates it. He doesn’t realize yet that I’m very patient and when it comes to kids throwing tantrums in public, I can’t be embarrassed; and I don’t apologize to bystanders. You can’t control a mad baby because they can’t control their emotions. Getting him to calm down in the past has resulted in a black eye, a busted lip, and loose teeth. I learned my lesson after the loose teeth. Wrangling a child the size of a 2-year-old is not wise when they are as strong as a bull. It’s best to put them on the floor and let them have it.

We’ve been in doctor’s offices where he was plotting to rip up all the magazines on the coffee table. I saw his plan in motion and I nipped in the bud. He was thoroughly upset and people watched, and so did I. He realized that his tantrum wasn’t getting the desired results, so he quit. He eye-balled the magazines and I eye-balled him. He’d look at me once in a while to see if I’m looking at him and yea, I’d be staring him down and he just act like the magazines don’t exist. He’ll play with the toys, but not after he gets my smile of approval, though. For some reason, he needs confirmation because in his little head, I’m the wicked witch of the west and I’m the one who tells him what he can play with and when.

I don’t stress myself over his tantrums because we both know they won’t last long and I’ll wait till he’s done.

If this is what I’m going to have to deal with until he’s about 10 I guess, then, someone is in for quite a few rude awakenings and I’m not sure who, yet.

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Raising My Son Without Religion

My family says, “Everybody needs to believe in a higher power”. Well, I don’t; neither does my ex-husband. I’m a true and strong believer of allowing people to form and make their own decisions in life. I wasn’t allowed that luxury as achild growing up. I either had to believe or get my ass kicked. That’s just the way it was. Getting forced to go to church is not cool at all. I’m not going to do that to my son with myAtheism; neither should his father.

I will tell him about religion – when he’s old enough and let him choose what he wants to do with it. I won’t be pressed either way. I’m living my life so I’m going to let him live his. To force my non-beliefs on him would be just as bad as his grandparents from his father’s side, forcing their beliefs on their son. I’m better than that and I will not live my life through my son.

That begs the question: Will he know about Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny? What about leprechaun’s? He will know about those things and I will tell him about them. I will let him have his imagination and let him be a child. The only thing that I will though is give him the story of Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny from a book; a storybook for children. I refuse to sit on the side of his bed and tell him that Santa is bringing him gifts when I know full well I’m the one wrapping and putting his gifts under the tree. That credit goes to me, not some  imaginary old fart with his flying reindeer.

I simply believe that there are things children should know and there are things that should wait until they’re old enough to get the concept. If he want to believe in a deity then so be it but I want it to be his choice, not mine. I won’t love him or see him any differently. He will always be my sweetie; forever and ever. Unless he goes out and murder someone then that’s a different story.

You’re born with love in your heart, religion is taught.

To say I need some “god” in the sky to be a sane, good decision-making, moral being is absurd. I know I do not need religion to raise my son. There will be holidays celebrated because it wouldn’t be fair to him if they weren’t. I don’t celebrate holidays but that was before I had a son. As a child, he’s not going to give a damn about the origins of it — hell – most adults don’t care or even know. Why would I complicate a holiday for someone who only care about the presents and food like most adults?

This mess about the Tooth Fairy? He will know of no such thing. I’m sure this blog will have some women ready to call CPS on me (because that’s how dramatic some of you mothers are) because I’m not going to tell him about the tooth fairy. I’m going to tell him to hand me his tooth and I’ll give him 5 bucks or whatever. I’m cutting out the middle-man. There will be much more room for superman dreams and fighter pilot imaginations.

“You’re ruining his childhood!” Oh please! Try living my childhood and you’d sing a different tune. I didn’t have a childhood. I didn’t get to experience a lot of things in life as a kid. I was a teenager when I first learned how to ride a bike, go to a park, go shopping, get a hug and for someone to tell me they loved me. What’s so screwed up about that, my family wasn’t the ones who allowed me to experience those things.

I will teach my son about equality, love, respect, and compassion. Things that actually matter, things that will help him in life. If that makes me a bad parent, then, I’ll be that.