65 Minutes

Tate cried, screamed, yelled, kicked, fell out, refused to walk, melted down for one hour and five minutes.  Yep 65 minutes.  I think he stopped having a fit for maybe the 3 minutes it took him to eat some yogurt about 3/4 of the way through the tantrum.


We were skyping with my parents like we do most nights while we eat dinner.  Tate had rotisserie chicken, broccoli, corn, half a Happy Tot pouch, applesauce and milk...most all are his faves.  He downed the milk, ate some of his chicken (dipped in ketchup), a couple bites of broccoli and the pouch.  He then asked for more milk and some yogurt.  I was more than happy to oblige.  Maybe because I don't move at the speed of light or because I'm not Samantha from 'Bewitched' or because I was simply too tired to hop right up to get the wanted items, but within mere seconds he started crying.  And crying.  And crying.  I told him I was going to get the yogurt and milk.  My parents told him "Mommy's going to get your yogurt."  All to no avail.  We hung up with my parents because I refuse to subject them to a meltdown so their evening doesn't get ruined as well as ours.


And he never stopped.  He hollered.  I got the yogurt.  He refused to eat it.  This was after he had opted to not touch his applesauce which is sprinkled with his medicine (Singulair granules), so I ended up putting another packet on top of the yogurt.  More crying, flailing about in the highchair.  He kept pointing towards the kitchen.  I asked a litany of questions "Do you want different yogurt?  Do you want milk?  Do you want Cheerios? Do you want to get down?  Do you want applesauce?"  As the screaming continued I changed my tune and told him to use his words which he is more than capable of doing.  


No dice.


He then seemed to want to be in my lap.  So, into my lap he went.  More crying and bucking.  I got some of the yogurt in him as he screamed, so he got his meds.  (Mommy 1 Tate 0)


I then just put him on the floor and watched him scream.


I decided (and told him) it was time for bed if we were going to continue to cry.


Kicking and bucking.


So I grabbed him up and trudged up the stairs with his 30 pound body wiggling about.


I turned on the bath water while he yelled and complained from our bedroom.


I struggled to get his clothes off.  Then I put him on the potty.  Mommy 1 Tate 1  That did not go well.


Into the tub he went.  Mommy 2 Tate 1


Scared me to death with his undulations, arms akimbo, slipping and sliding in the tub almost falling on his head.


I screamed "Stop moving around!  You're going to get hurt.  STOP IT!!"


Mommy 2 Tate 5


Diaper on under duress.


I lost it again and yelled at him "What do you want"


Mommy 2 Tate 10


I finally just told him to cry until he wanted to tell me what he wanted.  Much boo-hooing and I again offered milk, cheerios, yogurt, applesauce and a ride in his stroller.  


He wanted to go for a ride in his stroller.


We made our way to the 1st floor...him in his overnight diaper, me in my pjs minus my bra and walked in our little courtyard all while he was crying.  Oh and I mustn't forget...he was clutching his yogurt spoon from the time we went upstairs.


We came back inside and he FINALLY asked for his yogurt and wanted to eat it in his stroller in the entryway.  Fine by me.


All was quiet for 3 minutes.


Then he wanted a popsicle.


Nope. Nyet.  No. Nada. Not happening. No way.


Torrential tears.  


Once back in our bedroom I let him cry some more.  Then when he was merely hiccuping I sat him on the toilet again and he peed.   While he cried I brushed his teeth and got him dressed.  By now he's simply whimpering.


Mommy 3 Tate 11


We rocked for a bit with his trains and his beloved hippo.


He sat back and asked for some milk.


I was happy to oblige.  I came downstairs, got his milk and gave it to him upstairs.


I then rebrushed his teeth.


It had been 65 minutes.  I know this because I could go back to skype and see what time we hung up with my parents and as I walked down to get his milk I looked at the time on my alarm panel.  


65 minutes.


I rocked him, I apologized for yelling.  I told him he needed to use his words.


He laid on me for about 15 minutes and then asked to be put in his crib.  He was out in mere minutes.


I did promise that when I came to bed I would put him in bed with me tonight.


A peace offering if you will.  


We need to reconnect and sometimes it's best in the nighttime when we're both weary and tired.  Mother and son.  Just like all those times in the middle of the night when he was an infant.  Nursing in the middle of the night, both of us weary and tired.  Reconnecting.  Solidifying our bond.  I think that's why I never ever minded the constant wake ups.  Why I never sleep trained.  Why I didn't see the need to deny him what he needed for comfort...me.  After being apart all day, nighttime was our time.  Walking the floor, nursing in bed, just us.  Not that I wasn't exhausted.  Not that I didn't need my sleep. But his needs were more important then just like they are now.  Until he can really communicate and understand what it is he's feeling and articulate it I'll try to help him.  So I know that us sleeping together tonight will help him as much as it will help me.  When we have these horrible nights or days or minutes we need to reconnect...and not tomorrow when we'll be rushing out of the house and not tomorrow evening when we'll be rushing to eat dinner and go back to bed.  But tonight when we'll have the whole night to roll over and cuddle with one another, pat each other's backs, sling hands over one another's faces (ok he does that) and just be as close as possible for as long as possible.  


And those 65 minutes will be a memory (hopefully!) for both of us in the morning.