A Stormy Two Year Old and the Time Out from Hell

It was almost the perfect storm of sorts. And I blame myself. What was I thinking dragging my two year old to Walmart  right before his nap? And I haven’t been feeling so great recently, so I made this outing tired and my guard was down. To top it off, my usual barter snacks and water cup weren’t packed. But I just needed a few things. I wouldn’t be long. A half hour. Tops.

Well. I don’t know what started it all. Something set him off. I think he wanted to go down one aisle when I had decided to go another way.

(Silly me – I still had it in my head that this would be a quick trip.)

So it was one of those moments. Do I cave? Do I do what he wants so he doesn’t spin out and explode into million pieces right here? Do I dig in and refuse to let him get his way?

Well, I let him have this one. I let him go down the aisle he wanted to. But it was too late. He was mad by then. And starting to stomp a bit. Not good. The downward spiral into tantrum hell had begun.

Let me stop for a minute here. It doesn’t matter what kind of song and dance I do sometimes. If my kid is going to go ape-shit, he’s going to go ape-shit. Its like stopping a full alert, gale force wind hurricane. You can’t convince it not to blow, no matter how hard you try.

And that’s about when the strawberry incident happened. HE wanted to put them in the cart. Ok. We can do that. Unfortunately,  he picked the nastiest package of strawberries there. Usually I am sneaky and let him put them in and – if it is not a “choice” grocery pick – I switch them out when he’s not looking. But he decided to willfully toss the strawberries into the cart. And so, the plastic container popped open and strawberries rolled out all over the groceries.

You have got to be kidding me.

So, on the verge of losing my temper, I cleaned them up and swapped them out quickly and quietly. However. I was not undercover about any of it. Could you blame me? I just wanted this trip to the store over with already…

That’s when the storm hit and my two year old simply blew. Like his personal tip of the hat to the start of hurricane season, my son’s gusty breezes cranked into screaming gale force winds with booming thunder and crashing lightening – you know, its the kind of two year old weather that snaps tress and crushes small homes. It was on like Donkey Kong.

In a full red faced, squealing rage, he tossed strawberries and rattled the cart. He grabbed at our groceries and managed to whip a frozen pizza across the floor. That’s when he turned to the produce stands. While hefting a mango and winding it back with every intention of hurling it, I tackled him.

Kicking, screaming, thrashing and frothing at the mouth, I wrestled him into my arms and scrambled over to the closest corner I could find. It happened to be the frozen shrimp section next to the bakery. There was a corner there, and it was out of the way.

It was time to do what I was supposed to do in situations such as this one: we were going to have a time out.

So, channeling every bit of Jo Frost I could, I firmly declared he was going to stay in this corner for throwing things and losing his temper. We would stay there until he was calm and ready to apologize. My arms were crossed. It was my turn to dig in.

(Come on Jo, please be right about this, I am doing exactly what you would do on the show. I know this is the right thing to do. I know it is.)

Uh huh.

He made a break for it. Madly flailing his arms and screaming towards the stand of freshly made cupcakes.

Aw hell no.

I raced after him and got him. I dragged him back to the shrimp section. I put him down firmly. And gently (well, I am pretty sure I was gentle about it…) pinned him there against the refrigerator. He would stay here with me until he was calm. While one leg gently pinned him into place, I stood up, turned my back to him and waited.

That’s when I looked around me. Mothers, Walmart staff, so many people were watching us. Blatantly. Just staring.

What? Was I doing something wrong?

He kept on screaming, he kept on thrashing.

My pinned leg was starting to loose its grip. Plus I didn’t want to stare back at these faces – watching, wondering and judging.

So I turned around, kneeled down and put both arms on the freezer, locking him into a little mommy jail. “Hon, if you calm down and say sorry for throwing, we can be all done. Do you want to help mommy find some yogurt?”

“BAAAAAAHHHWAAAAAAAAHHHH”

“Show me you can be a big boy and calm down. I need to you to say sorry for throwing. Then you can be my big helper. Show me a good job.”

“NOOOOOOOWWWAAAAAAAAHHHHBAAAAAAAAHHHHH”

“Excuse me miss?”

Huh?

I turned around. An older lady was standing there. She had a bag of crackers opened in her cart and was munching away on them – like popcorn in a movie theater. Clearly, I was putting on a good show.

“I just want to say that you are a good mom. MOST MOMS would be really embarrassed to do a time out RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF WALMART. With EVERYONE watching. But I think its great you’re doing it. He has to learn. You’re doing a good job, mom. Really.”

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!”

“Um, he just… I just need to get my groceries…”

By then she had wheeled away. By then I was ready to cry.

So I looked past my child (turned rabid, mad dog) and stared into the freezer behind him. Shrimp for $3.00? That seems too cheap. I wonder if its even real shrimp. But what would you make imitation shrimp out of? …Ew.

“Hi there…”

“BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!”

I turned. This time it was someone from the bakery.

“I just wanted to say that I really feel for you.” She turned to the rabid dog. ” Hi hon! Look what I have!”

She extended her plastic gloved hand. There was a small ring. You know, the kind that goes on top of cupcakes. It was a “Wonder Pets” ring.

He reeled and screamed with rage and lunged to hit it out of her hands. She jumped back a bit.

“Oh. Well. When he’s ready, maybe he’d like this…”

“Thanks.” I threw the ring into the cart. And turned back to my child. No. The storm was not abating. At all. He was maintaining a level of “100% bat-shit”. I glanced over to a woman getting some shrimp out of the case next to me. And there was no denying it. I saw zero sympathy in her eyes. I saw disgust.

(What? Because a two year old was having a tantrum? Because he had been thrashing about on the Walmart floor? I know thats gross but… does this woman even know what children are capable of??)

That’s it. I stood up. I grabbed his hand and my bag and stormed out. Nothing was getting accomplished in the shrimp freezer section. I marched outside and looked for a shady spot to sit. I found a curb around a tree to sit on. Right next to the Walmart staff smoking section. Beggars were hardly choosers in that moment.

So we sat. And he screamed. I considered bailing on the entire trip. But I really needed bread and yogurt and milk and it took enough energy to even get here in the first place. No. We weren’t leaving without what I came here for.

And then. I heard the crying slow. He was watching them push the carts into the store.

“Like a choo-choo train” I heard him hiccup through sobs. He slowed some more. He watched. Finally I turned to him.

“Baby. Come here.” He stood up and looked at me.

“Why are you in a time out?”

Shuddering sigh. “Thwowing.”

“Right for throwing groceries. What do you say to me?”

“Sowwee for thwowing gwoah-swees.”

And that was that. He wiped his eyes and started babbling at me about the shopping cart choo choo train. He gladly held my hand and walked back into Walmart with me. He sat in amongst the strawberries and frozen pizza and yogurt chatting about his “Wonder Pets” plastic ring. He was a dream the rest of the trip.

An hour and a half after we left our home, we were back. And I survived another trip to walmart with a two year old.

Because that’s all it is. Just another typical day. There are no awards for managing tantrums like those. This is nothing all that special. No one (except for everyone in Walmart) was even there to witness it. (Like a tree falling in the woods, if no one heard it, did it make any noise?) Hopefully some small part of that experience is retained in his mind. He did actually do what he needed to do. But other than managing his behavior, it doesn’t honestly mean that much.

This is what parenting is about. This stuff happens. And its really hard. But we deal, we move on and we wait for the next round. On and on it goes.

But maybe next time, I will make that “quick” trip to Walmart after naptime.