It’s three in the morning when I hear her footed pajamas pad down the hallway to our bedroom. She opens the door and whispers, “Mom, I peed in my underwear.” I roll out from under the covers and assure her, “It’s OK, Karenna. Let’s get you some clean ones that are nice and dry.” I stumble to the laundry room, flick on the light and strip off her wet p.j.s, get her a new pair of underwear and say, “Alright, now let’s pick you some new, clean jammies to wear now.”
“But I want those jammies,” she protests as she points at the urine-soaked heap we just pulled off of her a moment ago.
“But they’re all wet, Karenna,” I reason. “Let’s find some here that are dry so we can go back to bed.”
I see her body stiffen with anger and she starts to lean into the beginnings of a tantrum. She crumples into an angry ball on the floor. I go to pick her up and she flails and wails. With a calm, firm voice I explain, “It’s the middle of the night. You cannot scream and wake up the whole house. Let’s get you dressed and go back to bed.” I put a new nightie on her and lead her back to bed. She is SCREAMING. I tell her that if she continues to have a fit, I will have to take her sister out of her bedroom since it’s not fair to wake her. She screams louder, kicks the wall hard. I pick up a groggy Avelyn and get her tucked into the other room with a spare mattress on the floor so she’ll be spared her sister’s wrath. Then I go back to Karenna who is frothing in her bunk like a rabid coyote, now angry that her sister is gone. “If you have a fit like this in the middle of the night, you can’t share a room with your sister. That’s how it works.”
Her tantrum continues to escalate, an unstoppable freight train headed straight for my heart and I leave her in her room, slamming the door behind me and running to my bathroom to sit on the lid of the toilet with my face in my hands and cry.
11 Comments
*Hug*! Dude, this kids have the power to both melt our hearts and kill our souls all with one breath. Audrey can throw a mean tantrum herself, seriously. I can’t wait till this stage passes, my Mom promises it passes – she says that’s why I’m still alive.
you are so SO not alone!! my middle son who is 4 years old is exactly the same way. the other two have such completely different personalities from him, that we wonder if he’s “normal”, or if there is actually something wrong with him. he sounds exactly like karenna. i find comfort in knowing others are going thru the same thing! thanks for always being so honest, always love reading your blog.
We went through this too, he’s almost 6 now and its around 95% resolved. I know how you feel and you’re not alone. Someone once told me that very high spirited kids are actually very intelligent and this will be very visible once they get older..I’m going to try and see if there’s a link here to e-mail you directly, if not please send me an e-mail I’ll tell you what saved our lives during that time, might work for you..
I sent you an e-mail
I can’t seem to find who won the print from Secret Agent Josephine?
3am is such a lonely time, especially when dealing with a screaming child. The only thing to say to you is, you are not alone even when you feel like you are. HE is with you, and so are many of us (just in different parts of the country/world). It’s ok to cry, you did what is right, and it won’t last forever. Nothing does. Not even 3am.
Aw, Amanda. Just seeing this now (stupid power outage last night).
Big hugs, friend. Love you.
:-(
That’s the worst. Just remember you’re not alone. All mothers have been there at some point. It won’t last forever. You’re doing a great job!!! Even though it’s the hardest of jobs. Hugs!!!
Aw. That’s so tough. I don’t even have any words of wisdom or anything. Hang in there. You are a wonderful mom!
I’m so sorry :( My 2 year old does things like this often…you described it perfectly when you said “unstoppable freight train”.
Let her wear the stupid wet pajamas and she’ll learn her own lesson…. ;)
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