Triple Tantrum

We’ve moved from our weekly rental to my mom and dad’s house for a few days until we return home early this week. Next door to them is a rental, and the family this week has a baby, who must be close to Ella’s age. I often here her on their front porch. It’s always nice to know that there are other kids nearby entertaining the neighborhood with their vociferous cries.

“Sounds like my kids will have some competition this week,” I said as I was sitting out on the porch with my dad.

Without any hesitation, my dad snickered, “Oh no. There is no competing with your kids, Cari. I just don’t know what happened to them.” We both laughed.

This response didn’t surprise me, as my dad is not around kids anymore. And earlier in the day, we were discussing something about getting paid for what we do. My dad said that whatever it is I get paid, it’s not enough. Quite the comedian he thinks he is!

But tonight, all he said was magnified ten fold. Earlier in the day, I had warned my friend Lanette who was down with her son that my kids went to sleep very late last night and they would be in rare form. However, they actually surprised me and ended up playing quite nicely on the beach. And when we took the boys on the boardwalk for dinner and rides, all went quite well. But then something…not sure what…but something happened, and the evening ended with ALL of my kids having complete meltdowns at the same time.

Cameron decided that a couple blocks away from home, after we had just left an ice cream parlor that had a bathroom, that he absolutely had to pee right at that moment. And he couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t let him go on a tree. He continued screaming and crying, “I can’t hold it!” and pleaded for me to let him go in the bushes, as I continued walking ahead of him, assuring him that he’d make it, and if he didn’t he’d be in big trouble.

At the same time, Max, who had fallen asleep just before we visited the ice cream place, woke up in the stroller I was pushing. He suddenly started crying, for no apparent reason, and he just wouldn’t stop. Then the crying turned to screams, and no matter what I said, he continued. I finally got it out of him when we were at my parent’s condo that his scraped knees (that I had caused…but that’s another story) were hurting him, and that he wanted ice cream.

Ella was sitting in her high chair calmly slurping up the snack my mom had given her, content as could be, despite all the screaming going on around her. But as soon as I opened the door to take screaming Max back outside to get ice cream, Ella saw me leaving and began screaming and crying hysterically.

So I had one scraped-knee kid in the hallway screaming for ice cream, another in my mom’s arms screaming for me to get her, and one in the bathroom, still screaming, despite the fact that he had used the potty successfully.

My dad was right: nobody...especially tonight...nobody could compete with my kids.