By Jorden Blucher | Contributor
Editor’s note: “Quietly Making Noise” will take over where “Humbled Parent” left off and be cultivated by Jorden Blucher. As a stay-at-home father of two boys, the column will explore Jorden’s own experience looking down the rabbit hole of parenting but also will invite guest contributors. How do you deal with tantrums? What do you feed your children? Do they forage for themselves? How do you explain the unexplainable? Perhaps you are raising girls, your kids are older, or the age gap is larger. Submit a question, topic, essay or interview request to firstname.lastname@example.org. You can also weigh in on The Charlotte News Facebook page.
Luke and I are in the basement playing with the wooden train track he and his brother constructed a few days earlier. One section continually falls over, and I move some pieces around to make it more sturdy. Luke warns me that Noah is going to be really mad. I don’t listen. I should have.
Early one morning a few days later, Noah comes down into the basement to play trains. Immediately he sees that the track has changed and begins to cry. It is the latter part of the school week so his coping skills are low, and to compound the situation his mom worked late the night before and was not able to be home for bedtime. The latter always upsets the balance of the house. I quickly offer to help change the track back, but it’s too late. He no longer hears me and begins to take out his frustration by wrecking the track. I take Luke upstairs to have breakfast. Noah follows crying and tries to rip up some of Luke’s schoolwork. I lose my cool, snatch the papers out of his hand and yell at him.
I’m supposed to be the adult in this situation, but I’m not doing a very good job of holding it together. My coping skills, it seems, erode by the end of the week as well. Getting upset with Noah and yelling accomplish getting my heart rate up, causing Noah to dig his heels in more, and scaring Luke, who at this point is covering his ears and hiding behind the plant in the corner (something I did as a kid when there was yelling). If I’d just taken the papers out of his hand and said nothing and gone about the morning, the situation would have defused a lot faster. That’s not what I did, and now I feel horrible that Luke is clearly scared and the morning has crumbled so quickly. However, my stubborn, prideful self causes me to stand my ground. I should just stop and give Noah a hug and admit I lost my temper. That’s what will work, but instead I continue to be an ass.
I called my mom to see if I had tantrums that were as colorful as Noah’s are. She said she couldn’t remember, though she did say that I stood at the top of the stairs and screamed when I was mad.
“We just ignored you when you did that,” she told me.
Recently my wife and I decided to have a code word for those times when one of us is getting out of line. “Coconuts” is what we are supposed to say, the idea being that this will cause the other person to take a step back. It has been working with mixed results. What we really need to do is re-read the book called If I Have to Tell You One More Time. In it the author talks about how bad behavior is often just attention-seeking behavior, which is what was clearly going on with Noah on this morning. In hindsight I should have just started putting the track back together the way he had it.
The remainder of the morning is a roller coaster, but I manage to keep calm and use phrases like, “When you leave your bike there, then I am not going to help you put it away.” Emphasizing the when and the then (we also learned this from the book) lets children know what the consequence will be and gives them a chance to make a choice. This works better than giving a command.
By the time we head off for school everything is back to normal.