Babies and the Boundary ConundrumPosted by admin on July 30th, 2009
I have had a string of frustrating days for reasons completely unrelated to my child. Add to this, though, a little one who wants to ride on my back all day and dangle from the railing, and I’ve discovered the recipe for Mommy Insanity.
The angst is partly caused by an endless stream of tough decisions. Should I stop my son from breaking the TV and risk his screaming through my tutoring session or continue working in relative silence? Would it be better to leave him on the big bed and worry about him falling or lie with him for an hour while he falls asleep? Is it better to shriek when he bites me so that he gets the message or will that make him think that yelling is okay?
None of these are great options.
Setting boundaries is difficult for any parent, at every stage in child development. With a 19-month-old, there are incredibly fuzzy lines of comprehension. While he can answer my questions about what he wants to eat and whether or not we should go outside, he can’t be reasoned with when it’s time to stop playing with the neighbors’ cat. So, tantrums ensue from each positively benign turn of events.
You parents of older children are probably nodding and smirking at my naivete, or thanking the universe that those days are behind you (or are they just coming around again because time is cyclical? ha!). Like anything else, though, when you’re in the thick of it, you cannot see above, below, before, or behind yourself and the predicament of the moment. The only important thing is to save yourself from a complete breakdown, which requires advanced breathing techniques when you are wrestling with a large toddler.
My personal pet peeve is having my personal space invaded too often. Babies know how to do this well. Yesterday, my precious boy thrashed around in my arms while I tried to rock him to sleep and, after I finally removed my hair from his hands, I emerged with scratches on my face and a boiling anger in my stomach. At the end of the day, I just want to sit down in my own space. I don’t even need to be doing anything; a lot of nothing is perfectly fine. When that moment is ruined by a monkey man climbing onto my lap with fire trucks, I don’t react kindly. Sometimes, I feel selfish for erupting in frustration, but I suppose it makes me fully human.
Somehow, each horrific period of claustrophobia, anxiety, and rashness passes, and your smiling child emerges once again. My son only has to envelop me in a bear hug, complete with back tapping, and I magically forget about his monstrous qualities. Perhaps those are the little gifts that were built into parenting from the very beginning, the ones that we can’t possibly explain to tantrum onlookers in the grocery store.
Luckily, the most embarrassing thing my son does in public is dance wildly while sitting in the shopping cart and elicit adoring laughter.
I hate to imagine that it could get any worse…but, alas, he hasn’t turned two yet.
