Clean up in the Cafeteria, please!

Sometimes it seems that I tuck my sweet, good natured preschooler into bed and then wake up to find a mouthy, defensive and sullen teenager has replaced him overnight. This strange phenomena has been happening more often over the past few weeks and I'd be willing to bet that it's got something to do with my parents absence. You see, my mom ,in particular, has always been a very regular presence in Owen's little world. Now that my parents have been stranded in N.Ireland thanks to my Dad's busted ankle, I wonder if Owen's been a bit rattled by the hole they've left behind here. No more "Fridays with Nana". Those days are kind of like "Tuesdays with Morrie" but with less soul-searching and more junk food. Thankfully, these meltdowns aren't a daily occurrence. But when they happen-watch out. I'm talking screaming, fist pounding and foot stomping. I'm talking red-faced, teary-eyed and out of breath, this stuff is not for pansies. I think any parent can agree that a bonafide temper tantrum is better managed at home, right? At home, I'm free of the judgemental stares of other parents who, I'm sure, are criticizing my every move. At home, I'm more likely to stretch my patience that extra little inch to ride this out with him and end up with a sweaty and breathless kid curled up in my arms. What a bummer that these monstrous meltdowns CAN happen in public. What a fricking crime that we parents have to navigate these fits among strangers.  I mean, in his moment of rage, why isn't my 3 year old thinking about my needs?! Why isn't he trying to save me from the ensuing embarrassment? It's almost like it's all about him or something. Well, picture this: I brought both boys to meet my aunt for lunch at Ikea. I dumped the kids, diaper bag and stroller on her and lined up to get food while she scoured for a table that would fit all my crap. I decided that I'd get a piece of cake for Owen and I to share after lunch and gave myself a little "Aren't you a nice mommy?" kind of pat on the back. I brought the trays loaded with food back to the table and was met with the shocking statement: "I didn't want chocolate cake....I wanted....VANILLAAAAAAA!!!!!" Wait a sec. He's lucky I bought cake at all, why am I being ambushed? Thank God we were in the kind of joint that sells $4 meatball plates and not the kind of place that serves $30 Prime Rib Au Jus.  All attempts to talk him down seemed futile at the time and as he wailed, I felt the eyes of strangers boring into the back of my head. I imagined their whispers to each other-"well, SOME ONE'S unhappy....my goodness, tsk tsk tsk...why can't she get her kid under control?" I'm pretty sure that the mayhem of my table served as birth control for someone at Ikea that day. Case in point:

 I said half-jokingly to my aunt "Can you believe that my mother subjects herself to this regularly and on purpose?" She said, maybe a bit too eagerly, "I'm fine!" In these moments I'm caught between making the choice that is best for my child or making the choice that is best for the public. Of course, I don't want my child to disrupt people. That said, I owe my child the very best of me and I owe the public nothing more than the best little apologetic smile I can muster. So, the tantrum takes as long as it takes. I don't ignore him, I keep talking it out with him. If I can, I pick him up and move him to another location. If I can't, I can't. I make it clear that vanilla cake is not on today's menu and that I hope he'll join me in eating the chocolate cake and then I wait for my wonderful kid to come back to me. Maybe people think I'm too soft. Maybe they think I should be putting my foot down more aggressively and, believe me, I've lost my patience in the past. That said, I'm not obliged to care about what the village thinks about my parenting. I hope they assume that we're all doing the best we can with what we've got.