Temper Tantrums or Why I Don’t Want to Play Today

Tantrums are the worst. Honestly, I’d rather listen to a symphony of nails on a chalkboard than deal with a temper tantrum. There’s no reasoning, no logic, no common sense and most of all no filter when your kid is flailing on the floor, screaming, crying and telling you you’re the shittiest mommy ever.

It takes every last ounce of your energy to survive your kid's epic temper tantrums.

This morning I played dragons with B, (she’s a fan of How To Train Your Dragon) and, as usual, I was the bad guy, sneaking up on the good guys and kidnapping Toothless. I then had a meeting with my henchmen, while the good guys rescued Toothless from right under my nose. Rats, foiled again. It’s the same scenario, over and over again.

Later on, she wanted me to play again. I told her no, that Daddy will play while Mommy takes a nap.

Well, shit. I got knocked off my feet by the barrage of “PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE”‘s firing out of her mouth like bullets. I told her again, the answer is no, Mommy is going for a nap.

Again, with the pleases. I turned off the cartoons, told her that her whining was unacceptable. “I wanna watch my cartoons!!!!”, she yelled. “Just go to bed, Mommy!” I was like, “The fuck did you say?!” I sent her to her room for talking back to me, where she proceeded to throw an epic temper tantrum.

Holy shit, child! I mean, do you think your whining is going to make me change my mind? It only solidifies my resolve to tell you no again. What’s wrong with playing by yourself? You can do that. What’s wrong with playing with Daddy? You can do that too. He’s the one who can always get you to smile. And you don’t get to spend as much time with him.

Why am I the end-all, be-all when it comes to entertaining you?!

What kills me is that this little girl, with her cute curls and bright eyes, knows damn well what she’s doing. She’s pushing and pushing and pushing until she gets her way, with the added side bonus of making me feel like the worst mom E.V.E.R for not playing with her. I swear, at this point I’m like, “She’s gonna write a book at the age of six and tell the world that I never played with her. And I’ll end up on bloody Maury Povich, watching as she storms off stage to throw another tantrum because I wouldn’t let her wear make up at the age of ten.”

Well, fuck that, ladies.

As mothers, we want to sleep. We want to sit and drink our coffee in peace. We want to finish the mountain of dishes in the sink. We want to use the bathroom and take a shower by ourselves. We want to put make-up on and feel pretty again. We want to do general grown up things, anything but play with you.

My name is Mommy and I don’t want to play today.

But we’re teaching them boundaries right? Right. We’re not a selfish bitches, right? Right. We’re human beings, right?

Pfffhh, nope. We’re mommies.

We’re always there. We’re always with them. We love them with every fibre of our being…

but baby…sweetheart please, I just don’t want to play today.

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