On a side note: Hey Tricia! I am so happy to see you. I was bored this morning so I was going to read your trip report and I couldn't find you. The search on here sucks, but you knew that already. So I am thrilled to be able to read some more.
I forgot all about the trip report. Again. I've got to get around to finishing that darn thing!
DS3 had a meltdown of biblical proportions at the grocery store this morning.
He has been *ahem* difficult for about a week now. He is testing his boundaries. Trying to be in charge of stuff, which is fine to a certain degree. What cup he wants to drink from? Sure, he can make that decision. What shirt to wear? Yep, he can pick that too. Whether or not to wear a coat when it is 20 degrees out? Not negotiable. KWIM?
Anyway, there have been several battles over the non-negotiable moments over the past few days. Several. Per day. I'm already near the end of my rope, what with being hormonal and feeling fat and crabby (which, I am... hormonal, fat & crabby), and now he decides to test the boundaries. This is not a good mix. I'm dealing. I have no choice. Not like I can
really super glue the kid to the deck and toss him some snacks, which is what I want to do.
So, we get to the grocery store after I dropped DS7 at school and it is thankfully just me and DS3. Mom took off early this morning for some reason that escapes me at the moment. Shopping was a breeze without Mom having to stop every few feet, dig out her glasses (that she swears she doesn't need), read a label for 10 minutes, and then put the item back on the shelf... but I digress. We get ready to check out and DS3 heads to the lane that we normally use. The problem? It isn't open. Light is off, no cashier... closed. I told him we had to go down 2 lanes to the one with the light on. He lost his ever lovin' mind. Because we have to use a different check out lane? Really?
Sigh.
I didn't have any choice at that point. I needed several of the things in my cart (milk and bread top the list), so I had to tough it out and drag him, flailing and screaming like it is the end of the world, to the open lane. I then had to pin him between me and the checkout to keep him from running back to the closed lane, because he was bound and determined that we
had to use that one. When it was time to leave, I had to haul him up and carry him like a sack of potatoes because he goes limp like a noodle when he is in a total meltdown (because he knows it makes it nearly impossible to pick him up... he is only 3 1/2, but he weighs 41 pounds).
All of this with nearly everyone in the grocery store looking at me like I am either a) abusing my child or b) the worst mother in the world for letting my child get away something.
SIGH.
My method of handling tantrums, of which my children have had very few, is to not react to them and to not give into them. I think that teaches them that doing this will not get you what you want and it will not get any reaction out of me. Call me crazy.
That's how my day started. Whoop de friggin doo.
