A sad epiphany

In my former life as a worker bee in various companies and life in general, I have always been a good project manager. I was able to manipulate dates and tasks, accommodate for float time and avoid scope creep, in order to meet deadlines. I was very successful at this. I approached child-rearing with the same mentality. I read lots of things about how to manage my new little project, like this book, and this book, etc., and I somehow have been able to maintain the illusion that if I just “managed” Jack well enough, I could successfully manipulate him into the behavior that was required.

No news to those of you who have children, but my sad epiphany yesterday morning was that I cannot control him. Sometimes it doesn’t matter what kind of sleep training and discipline methods you employ, there are stages where you just have to try and get through the day with no one hurting themselves, and without losing your mind.

I’m really don’t want to complain and be negative in general, but I thought the whining was as bad as it was going to get. We’ve moved on to a new stage that has totally blindsided me. The over-tiredness from the process of switching from two naps to one, combined with the cutting of eye teeth, on top of just being a toddler with a strong will and limited communicative ability has turned my sweet boy into one that causes me to wonder at times whether he is actually demon-possessed. The flailing and screaming and flopping all over the place are just nuts.

I always thought that people whose children regularly threw tantrums just didn’t discipline them well enough (and I’m sure sometimes this is the case). I have been reading on the internet about tantrums in toddlers, and apparently what Jack is doing is very common at this age, and it really is difficult for them to manage their emotions and sometimes they just need to vent. I go back and forth on how to deal with it. When he gets out of control, I have tried paying lots of attention to him, ignoring him, spanking him and I’m ashamed to admit, even shouting at him. At every turn, when he doesn’t get exactly what he wants, it is a tragedy of monumental proportion.

After having been successful in school and work throughout my life, I thought I was prepared for the challenges of raising a child- why should this be any different? I (obviously) had no idea how close to the edge of my sanity it would take me. I have heard parents say, that raising their children brings out the worst in them, and that God uses the experience as a very effective tool in the sanctification process. I agree wholeheartedly.