Hannah is just on the heels of turning 18 months, which is almost impossible to believe. I hear that milestone is a game changer. MY mom still remembers how hard it was with me between then and about 2 1/2, and that was nearly 30 years ago. Other sentiments include "the first time it got harder instead of easier" and "oooh, just wait." Yipee.
First the positives. We were out and about the other day, and Hannah galloped with excitement about where we were going. She squealed with enthusiasm and delight at the playground this morning, in a way totally unlike baby squealing. This was real, built up, genuine thrill. She is learning how to jump, and she's got some sick dance moves. Her vocabulary expands daily, and she repeats song lyrics. She reaches up to hold hands, leans back into me to read books on the couch, and can clearly communicate simple preferences. Watching her grow is the adventure of a lifetime.
And then there are tantrums. Holy shit.
I'm pretty sure today was our first official, full blown, toddler tantrum. We were grocery shopping, and I knew trouble was brewing when Hannah wanted to get out of the cart and push. Trader Joes was just stupidly crowded - which is, naturally, when they always do their restocking - and staying near me and walking wasn't enough. She needed to run, and run fast. So I put her back in the cart. Sounds simple, right?
The meltdown came, then the aftershocks. (Which lasted for about an hour, including all the way home.) I can handle Hannah freaking out. I'm her mom, and would gladly throw myself into oncoming traffic for her benefit. What could potentially put me over the edge one day is the disapproving glances from John Q Public, which suggest I should be somehow able to magically control the situation. Surely they don't expect me to just abandon a full grocery cart and book it out the door so that they don't have to hear her cry. Surely they have considered that we have no food in the house and the work week starts for us, too, tomorrow. Surely they have spent a cumulative five minutes in the presence of toddlers throughout their lifetime and know that tantrums don't mean that the kid is spoiled, doing something "bad", or that the parent of said toddler is a total failure.
Staying serenely calm, soothing and gentle during all this is a spiritual discipline. I love my little girl, but let's call a spade a spade. Bedtime was sweet tonight. Looking at her angelic sleeping face, it's hard to imagine it tear streaked, dramatically contorted and snotty just hours before. Well, toddlerhood, let's do this.
