Tantrums are Beautiful

I was going to post next about finding continuum spaces in the public, where my child and I can be with our community. But my son had a tantrum which I feel compelled to share about.  This blog is not just about how I'm reviving the continuum, but also how I'm consciously living in the continuum, which includes caring for my child, and being with him.

A few days back, after a very active day out, I felt tired and wanted to rest while Karthik napped. But Karthik got up and wanted to nurse.  I  told him I couldn't nurse him, and asked him to join me on the couch.  He climbed in with  me but couldn't get comfortable, complaining that the blanket was too small, the pillow wasn't in the right place, etc.  Frustrated, he started crying, and again asked to nurse.



I stopped nursing him three months ago. Since then, he has asked to nurse occasionally, but only half seriously, and sometimes jokingly (although he would still be nursing if he could). But on this day he was serious. Why this longing came up on this day I'm not sure. But funnily he had just turned three.  His crying still sometimes starts out like a baby's whimpering, with bottom lip protruding pitifully. This is how he cried on this afternoon when I said I couldn't nurse him.  It was heartbreaking. I felt his sense of rejection and loss for his babyhood.  I said, "I can hold you close to me." He said no. "I can give you goat milk."  No! And his weeping quickly turned into loud unrestrained wailing. He got angry that I took his pull-up diaper off (which was wet), and demanded I put it back on (I had torn it off from the sides).  At this point I knew I wouldn't be getting my nap. Plus he kept yanking my blanket off.  Oh was I tired and chilly. But here was my angry child, sitting on top of a me, trying to get me to put a broken wet diaper back on him.  He became more enraged when I tried to pull the blanket back over me.  He continued to demand to nurse. Once more I told him I couldn't.  He said he needed it and started desperately biting his fingers (not hard), which was all at once strange, interesting, and sad to see. I teared up a little, knowing I had taken something sweet and precious away from him before he was ready, rather than allowing him to ween on his own. But I had needed to ween him when I did. This may be another post, "Weening outside of continuum societies." 



 Karthik got physical, pushing me hard. I firmly held my ground.  A few times he ended up pulling my hair while trying to move my hands away to nurse. I was trying to free my hair strands and cover myself, and then he slapped me. I covered my face in case he would do it again, but he quickly hugged me. I was a bit shaken by the slap, but I guess he was too.  He was still crying. Still demanding to nurse. I got up and got him some goat milk. Always does the trick when he does want to nurse. But he threw it. Impatience surged up in me as I grabbed a rag (I keep them handy) and started wiping the mess. I was wiping hard.  Still crying hard, he begged me to pick him up.  I said "not now" and continued to wipe.  He continued crying "godi godi," which means "lap" in Hindi, but we also use it for "in arms."  I stopped wiping, and looked at him, his arms outstretched in desperation as he continued to wail in anguish. I picked him up.  It felt so good to hold him close to me.  I sat down with him and quietly watched him. As he cried and cried, I felt the vibrations.   I didn't offer him anything, nor did I soothe him.  I continued to be with him.  Eventually, his crying started to soften, and then subsided.



He rested his head on my chest, breathing unevenly. He had pushed me, shoved me, slapped me, thrown goat milk, and now I felt him quietly bathing in my pure acceptance. I told him that he had gotten angry, and that we all get angry sometimes. I mentioned different people who we know, saying they each get angry sometimes, including myself.  He was silent and continued to rest on me. Several  minutes later, he looked up at me and said "Daddy also gets angry sometimes." I said "Hmm?"  Then he said "Mommy also gets angry," and continued naming other friends, family and neighbors who "also get angry sometimes." I smiled. "Yeah. everyone does sometimes."



Like most toddlers, Karthik gets upset at times.  His upsets are usually short outbursts, but this upset was longer and more intense.   Whether short or long, I love to be with Karthik during his upset.  My unspoken message is, "You are allowed to be upset. I'm right here."



The anguish of a small child is so intense and unrestrained (until sadly, she learns to repress it). Looking at little ones cry, I often chuckle inside (sometimes a smile creeps on my face).  It's sweet and funny to me. The suddenness of it. The openness of it. The contorted mouth. "Waaahhh!"  But what’s amazing to observe is how the child goes from this intensity, where the world is coming apart, to being completely over it and back to playing gleefully, or chattering away, ever friendly-like.

Babies and small children fully get over their pain, and this continues as they get older, if they are allowed to fully go through their pain. 



As a mother, living in the continuum means being present to my child. Allowing my child to be. Sure I lose patience, especially when there is mischief (and this too will be another post). But overall I enjoy upsets, whether short outbursts, or a full out tantrum.  That afternoon, when I stopped complaining in my head that I wasn’t getting to rest, I very much enjoyed being with my extremely upset child, as he cried and cried his heart out.  Sitting with him like that, I got my rest.  It sounds strange, but I know being with him during this time is healing for him, as it is for me. It's simple. Nothing needs to be fixed. 



There is no better gift one can give to a child than allowing her to be.



Later that evening I was relating this event to my husband when Karthik looked up from his play.  I said "Karthik, anger had taken over you earlier today, right?  He said "Yah" reflecting with a thoughtful smile. My husband asked, "What did you do?" He said "I cry sooo much." Then my husband asked why, and I thought Karthik was going to say because he couldn't' nurse, but instead he said "Because......" and looked off nowhere in particular, and then suddenly said "Weeeeeee!!" as he went off being a helicopter, and then doing one of his familiar little victory jigs.  




I imagine, as Jean Liedloff, author of Continuum Concept observed, that there are few if any tantrums in Yequanna culture. In her article: "The Unhappy Consequences of being Child-Centered," Jean says: 



The crucial difference is that the Yequana are not child-centered. They may occasionally nuzzle their babies affectionately, play peek-a-boo, or sing to them, yet the great majority of the caretaker's time is spent paying attention to something else...not the baby!... Thus, Yequana babies find themselves in the midst of activities.. 

 

Mothers carry about their activities. Children, while well cared for, are not the focus of attention, but just a part of the adult world. With less attention directly on them, they are less prone to getting upset. Their innate need to be a part of the lively adult world, and a community, is met. In most western cultures, and certainly in the DC metro, it is the opposite.  Mothers’ lives revolve around their children's lives. Story time, “mommy and me” and kiddie activities abound.  It is more challenging in our culture not to be child-centered.  But it certainly can be done, and I've seen it. More so in people of other cultures, who have their community.

As much as possible, I have always carried on with my own activities and let Karthik be a part of everything. It has been wonderful.  Karthik and I have a strong bond and playfulness, which is also why he is quite independent and off doing his own thing.  This liberates me to an extent. But, in a culture where families dwell in isolation, where mothers don't have a tribe or community to be with,  where adult human resources aren’t readily available (who the mother knows and trusts),  it is hard to not be somewhat child-centered.   When mother (or father) and child regularly are alone for periods (usually in the home), the child will naturally need their adult more, for help, company, to play with, etc.  For who else do they have?  Babies are social beings. With siblings there can be less neediness, of course, since they have each other.  But mothers are also social beings and need community. Yet any  mother knows it's not easy to get out of the house. Things come up. Having just one other adult around makes a huge difference, but that's not the case for many of us.  

In our culture, where we are isolated within our dwellings, we tend to have children who are more prone to getting upset. They are missing out on community.

I enjoy my small community of mama and papa friends almost daily, and a more diverse community on weekends, and some evenings. But still, there are periods each day where Karthik and I are alone, usually at home.  It has gotten easier for me because he plays so well on his own now.  And I'm growing my community all around me.  But there are times when I would like some help, and/or a break, and I don't have it. It was much more challenging when Karthik was younger and nursed a lot (understatement).  But since his birth, I have done little things to live in the continuum in my home, to help Karthik be a part of our adult world. He mostly quite enjoys his time at home.

Our little ones are growing up in a child-centered society, which isn’t meeting their innate need to be a part of the adult world. So... there will be tantrums, and frustrations of various degrees that come up.  But each upset, big or small... is an opportunity to allow a child to be.