Doubts about discipline

Just thinking out loud here.

Jasmine, we hope, is over the worst of her diva-phase, and some semblance of peace, happiness and normality is restored.

For those tantrums that still occur, I remain unconvinced we are dealing with them consistently. In my mind, I want to be from the zero tolerance school of discipline. In practice though it's bloody exhausting and time consuming. You just can't get anything done. So we tend to try and be more reasonable when she's having a paddy. But that feels like appeasement more than anything else.

Not easy.

Still don't know what the answer is.

Found the catch with Montelukast the wonder drug

Something's up with Jambeans. She's basically had 2 modes all weekend - either outright anger, or teary moany barely audible wimpers. It started with the big crying fuss at Sophie's birthday party over the balloon (my balloon, my balloon, MY BALLOON... waaaah and so on. Obviously, it was so not her balloon) after which she wailed, in the middle of lunch, at top volume "Want to go home. Want to GO HOME! Sob. Want. sob. Hooome." And she's been a total handful since then.

I know this sounds like typical toddler behaviour, and that's definitely an explanation, but Jasmine is what one would describe as a 'good kid'. She certainly has her diva moments, but they're infrequent and easily manageable. Bf and I are quite relaxed parents, but Jasmine hasn't really given us reason to be more disciplinarian either. Then suddenly, this weekend, a switch flicks inside and she's good to qualify us for Supernanny.

We think it could be the Montelukast - Jasmine's been on it for the last 5 days - and some of the side effects include tiredness, restlessness, agitation, aggressive behaviour and irritability. So we've taken her off and will see if we get our lovely daughter back or whether the Jekyll and Hyde monster is here to stay.

Sleep rebel

Jambeans latest 'phase' is refusal to go to bed. Every night turns into a battle of wills as a screaming, insistent toddler insists that she's not tired and wants to stay downstairs. This evening she even said she would sleep on the sofa, proving she is two going on sixteen. We get her upstairs and to sleep (alternating the firm-but-calm approach with some JFDI style manhandling), but of late she's been reliably waking up at 3am and then moans for mummy. We just bring her into bed with us because we don't have the energy to resist, and I spend the rest of the night with her sleeping in my armpit. Add into the mix Total Daddy Rejection and it's all getting a bit wearing.

Sentimental Old Fool that I am

So, my FIRST full day sans enfants of any sort. And what do I do?

Hotfoot it down to the local spa?

Nope.

Indulge in some retail therapy?

Nope.

Kick back relax and watch some chick flicks?

Nope.

I file.

And I'm not talking fingers and toes either. No, instead of basking into my newly found freedom I launch into that unbalanced tower of paper that has amassed over months and I file it all away into various, erm, files. And it takes me two bloody hours of pure unadulterated efficiency.
And now I'm sitting here not knowing whether to worry that I really am that anal or feel satisfied that it's done and out of the way. A bit of both I guess. But whilst filing I uncovered this gem of a report that Jasmine got from nursery back in May:

"Jasmine has become so chatty about everything. She is singing and dancing all day, or laughing. She is so happy, enjoying everything we do. She is also more active and able to do more activities. Jasmine loves action songs and games in the garden."

It's such a joy to see that desperately small and vulnerable bundle of premature baby flourish into a lovely little girl.

Am I okay?

This week my propensity to swing from totally fed up to perfectly happy has been more acute than normal, which is making me wonder if I'm okay, or really not very okay at all. Like on Monday - woke up and was a total, shouty cow for about an hour, but was serenely happy the minute we arrived at Kew and for the whole of the rest of the day (probably something to do with the fact that Kew is enchanted). Today - woke up just dandy but a mere 2 hours later I was seriously fantasising about walking out the front door and just keeping going, leaving kids, bf, home and the comfort of the burbs behind me forever. And I don't think it's because the bubs are being more bub-like and toddler-like than usual. I think it's because my willingness to tolerate it has just dissipated completely.

Having said that, right now Jasmine is painting the dining room table with yoghurt and I'm actually pretty cool with that. So I think I must be okay after all.

When is enough enough?

As far as I understand being a toddler is all about moaning and whining and throwing endless, unnecessary tantrums. Sorry, I meant to say is all about trying to discover how the world works and gaining some measure of control over it when you are constantly pushed and pulled around by grown ups all the time.

So one of Jasmine's favourite phrases at the moment is "my do it" - meaning "I want to do it", which is OK apart from the fact it also means "my way, in my time, and you don't get a look in". Cause of the current moan is about her wanting to take her shoes off. She successfully removed one but got completely stuck on the second. She managed to pull the velcro strap up OK, but wouldn't let go of it, instead she hung on to it which pulled it tighter, meaning her attempt to loosen the shoe with the other hand and then remove it were totally frustrated. Only Jasmine didn't get this. Instead, when I gently said "Jasmine, let go of the strap..." she took it as me trying to take over and started whining. So then I said "Let mummy help you" which made her cry. Then I tried "Mummy can tell you how to do it and Jasmine can do it" by which time she was in full on protest mode and was thrashing her feet around far too close to my face for my liking, but was still hanging onto the strap for dear life and trying to remove her shoe at the same time. About 10 minutes of me trying to teach her had passed now, and quite frankly, it was getting boring (it was boring to begin with) so I gave in to temptation, made her release her hand from her shoe and pulled it off to a crescendo of moaning, tears, whining and shouting.

I just left her to it. I'm so bored of trying to be a patient parent.

Unfortunately I can't seem to do anything right now. I've had enough.

Tommy Lee Jones attitude

One of my favourite film moments is in the remake of The Fugitive. The rozzers (or cops, really) are sneaking round a house where some of the fugitive murderer bad guys are hiding out. One of the baddies grabs hold of the sidekick cop, holds a gun to his head and starts hollering to be let free or the cop gets it. Tommy Lee Jones, being the cool sharp-shooting police dude that he is takes out the baddie in a flash. The sidekick later protests that he could have been killed, and that TLJ could have negotiated. TLJ just whispers coolly in his colleague's ear "I don't negotiate."

It is this detached, unrelenting mindset that I try to emulate as I engage the anti-tantrum shield, stop any attempt to reason with the toddler, and decide that she either eats the food she asked me to cook her, with the fork she asked me for, from the bowl she decided she wanted and then goes to bed OR she can scream until snot comes out of her eyes and then go to bed hungry.

Jambeans steps it up a gear

OMG have we all been sick or what? We did the mammoth trek down to the West Country where Uncle Mary and Auntie Leon were hosting LEH Christmas this year. They hired out a huuuuge B&B in 't country for all of us with loads of bedrooms for everyone - so it was a bit like being on campus at uni but all grown up and with a bunch of kids. Had a giggle, ate too much and laughed loads etc. etc. Early doors next day for the huge trek home when all of a sudden, bleuuuughhh, vomiting at the first stop, then bleeeuuugghghh, vomiting at the second stop, and bleeeuuuuggghhh, vomiting in the front garden (yes - again - but i am beginning to think regular doses of my chunder is what is making our pampas grow to enormous proportions, and no, we are not swingers, and no, when we bought it i had NO IDEA pampas grass outside your house was a sign that you were.)

Jambeans, by this time, had developed the usual snot, fever and chest wheezing symptoms of a nasty virus. So we all flaked out on our bed, when at 1am the boyfried, who is NEVER ill, got a temperature... so there we stayed for the whole of the next day, and pretty much the day after that too. I went back to work on Wednesday, but flaked out halfway through and had to come home I was so wiped out.

But we're all fine again now, including the mammoth bump i am hefting about the place. Yaaaay. And Jambeans is on super naughty form. Favourite games at the moment are:

• turning the oven on
• taking things out of the kitchen bin to play with
• shredding tissue paper
• throwing anything
• climbing anything, especially if it is precarious
• switching the PC off
• being territorial about toys
• refusing to eat fruit, veg, bread, cheese etc. and making us think she's not hungry, then happily wolfing down anything sugary or chocolatey

she's a proper toddler now. sigh. i am so proud ;-)