The Evolution of a Tantrum

I post the following photos of our precious son with no apologies but with absolute certainty that someone will look at them and say, “I can’t believe she actually published those photos of her poor son!” And that person will probably be my mother. But that is because she’s long past dealing with daily tantrums – from her kids at least. Yes, that was a crack at you, dad.

I dedicate the following photos to my son who will, God willing, make it to adolescence. And he’ll no doubt get that surge of testosterone that seems to deprive the male brain of enough oxygen. And, I assume he will one day find himself in a serious relationship that causes him to feel like he wants to act on his urges. I’ll sit him down and speak to him about the beauty of marital sex and how abstinence is a temporary state, but it will absolutely bless his future wife. And THEN I’ll show him every tantrum photo and video I can find to help him understand the consequences of satisfying those urges prematurely. But I’ll leave out the part where even married people who wait until marriage have kids who throw tantrums. But why bog him down with details? It’s called shock therapy.

I also dedicate this post to the military spouses living around the world who know all too well the realities of being a “single,” married parent. It’s hard. It’s exhausting. It’s terrifying. And I don’t have NEAR the stories that some of my fellow military spouses have – 18 month deployments, birthing their babies alone, and stories that make me cry to even think about them.

Finally, this series of tantrum photos is dedicated to my precious husband who is currently on a temporary duty assignment (TDY) in Waikiki Beach. Yes, you read that correctly. Sweetheart, I hope you enjoy Hawaii – that you take long walks on the beach, sip Diet Coke from your balcony while you listen to the waves crash against the shore, that you get a nice, bronzed glow as you walk to and from relaxing meals with your colleagues. But there is a small part of me that hopes you get stung by a jellyfish and that another dude has to pee on your leg. Because, look what you’ve left me with over here in Kansas! But mostly, I hope you have a wonderful trip.

Here is the evolution of a tantrum:

JJ says – no, DEMANDS – “Milk!” And I say, “No, I think you’ve had enough milk today. Your poo is liquified enough as it is.”

“Noooooooo! Milllllllllk!” And, again, I stress the need for water between meals. But to no avail.

This is his initial response:

Two seconds later, he discovers my iPhone (which was already in his hand as you can see in the first photo).

He plays with it for 0.25 seconds and says, “milk?” Again, my response is, “No, JJ. I’m not going to give you milk right now. You can have your water.” The result?

“Noooooooooooooooo!!!” He kicks, screams, and flips out for approximately 5 seconds. And then this:

Just kicked back. Just chillin’. Like nothing even happened. Like he didn’t just spew venom at me and then go, “hey, Angry Birds!” This is one emotional roller coaster I was not prepared to ride before I had kids. And if he wasn’t so dang cute, I would be temped to duct tape him to the sofa with nothing but a gallon of milk, a straw and an iPhone. But, I have no duct tape, and I suddenly have to stick to this milk ban that I stupidly enforced to save him (and me) from runny poop. This is getting ridiculous and he’s wearing me down. See below:

“Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh! Miiiiiiiiiiiiilk! Mamaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

And then it’s like he suddenly remembered his game was timed:

Sometimes, moms, when you’re about to lose your marbles, just pull out the camera. Because these moments are much funnier if you’re trying to capture them to use as blackmail.