My Kids Are Going to Rule Me and I'm Scared.

Sometimes I like to picture what it would be like if, in the real world, adults screamed their heads off when they were hungry, rubbed their red eyes and endlessly, erratically wailed when they were tired, or when they became frustrated, just tore up papers and broke things in complete, irrational anger. Or whined, "Noooooo, I want thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat one!" Or grunted over and over again wanting whatever someone else has. In business meetings. Or in the middle of the grocery store. Or in a restaurant. I think to myself sometimes, what if I just lost it right here (tearing at my hair like Kramer) because I am so hungry? Or I so desperately needed a nap and in the middle of a conversation just started rubbing my eyes and whining for no reason. In true, child fashion.

I introduce to you, the tantrum. I do not know from whence it has come, or why, but it has arrived and I'm none too happy. Mostly because when it happens, I have to figure out why it is happening. Is it because we gave up the bottle completely this week and he has lost his comfort and security in a sense? Is it because he's hungry and/or tired? Or is it because at age one, he is beginning to assert his independence and is trying to establish himself as a person? He is only one. But I swear, he is already a different boy. I try one tactic: completely ignoring him mid-tantrum. This makes him louder, more pissed off, and I ignore some more until it goes away and another one breaks out two seconds later. Or my second-string tactic, distracting him, giving him another toy, which he tries to rip up in frustration and anger. Or finally the third tactic. Throwing my hands up and giving up, surrendering and letting husband take over, or if he's not here, the good old Aquarium Swing. I feel like I am flailing out of control and he is going to own me and I see it coming and I am in a complete panic. He is only one and he is about to own me. He is about to plant his flag and stand on top of me like he has just conquered mom and he is only one.

Argh! I don't want to view this as battle. I want to view this as going into another stage, a journey, with all our supplies on our backs, going side by side, in a partnership, yet, with a clear, level-headed leader. This is my wishlist. But it's hard to be level-headed and patient when there is a clear melt-down standing there before your eyes and you just want to say, "Get ahold of yourself, man! We're going to make it through this!" But the meltdown continues, like we're both about at the end of our tether, chapped and frostbitten in the freezing cold of Mount Everest and the only option left is one of us eating the other one.

Maybe this is just a quick preview phase, gearing me up for a serious, even more scary phase two. Or maybe he is just lashing out because of his loss of the bottle, which makes me want to regress and take that lovely bottle out for his comfort, but alas, I will trudge on. This too, shall pass. I will continue my aforementioned tactics, even if I continue to feel like I am losing my grip. I will dig my heels in, for I shall not be conquered by a one-year-old. And I shall not regress, myself, to childish, tantrum throwing in response to a one-year-old's tantrum throwing. I shall maintain cool control and patience in the face of a meltdown. But seriously, all kidding aside. I WANT MY MOMMY!