Mallika and I went to Palm Sunday Mass this weekend to start Holy Week off right. We even managed to arrive only five minutes late in spite of a temper tantrum in response to Mallika's papa not allowing her to watch another elmo youtube video.
Much later in the afternoon, however, we had her most major tantrum to date. Oooo wee. Talk about a tornado, a tsunami and a volcano all rolled into a 23-pound frame and a couple of lungs. I think we were all still recovering late last night, especially the adults.
What happened was that Mallika had fallen asleep in the car at the end of an afternoon outing and woke up as I tried to put her down to continue her nap. She most often naps with her papa on the "big bed" (i.e. not her toddler bed) and it's crucial to close the bedroom door to contain what can sometimes be a very physically circuitous route to getting prone on top of the mattress. So I was in the living room, Mohan and Mallika were in the bedroom settling in, but then Mallika decided she wanted to leave the room. Then she decided she wanted me. Then she realized she wanted me to hold her. And THEN she realized neither of the big people were going to open the door for her. Crying ensued, as did scraping at and under the door, letting us know what a pitiful captive she was. None of that is unusual, really, but it typically lasts just a few minutes. Not the case with yesterday.
The storm just built and built and built to the point where I took the cell phone, stepped out into the corridor, and called Mohan on the land line in order to consult. Should we open the door? Should I try to lie down with her? Were we being cruel? Was my heart going to shatter listening to her cry, "Amma, hold you!" (meaning "hold me") a million times in a row? We concluded we should stick with it, mainly because Mallika has developed the habit in recent weeks of throwing a tantrum whenever she doesn't get what she wants how she wants it when she wants it and we really feel it needs to change. So I was silent and Mohan stayed with her in the room, talking calmly and quietly. "Mallika, it's OK. I can tell you're really really upset and angry. Come lie here with me. Try to take a deep breath. You're really upset, huh?" etc etc. He was great and just kept at it even when the crying became screaming and the screaming became non-breathing. He told me later her little fists were going and eyes were rolling around -- it was just terrible to see. It really seemed like it was going to go on forever.
Finally Mohan started on a track of asking her, "Mallika, does your body feel good? Does it? Does it feel good?" She finally started answering, "NO!!!!" And then he started asking her what her body needed and she managed to regain words instead of screams: "Amma! Hold you!" By just asking her over and over if her body felt good, and what she needed, and then encouraging her to let her body relax, she gradually, gradually came back off the ledge. She even laid down on the bed next to Mohan. And then the magic thing -- he opened the door, I came in, we both lay on either side of her and I stroked her back and told her how much I love her and that she'd had such a hard time and it was time to rest. She nodded and sucked her fingers and fell asleep.
Mohan and I were ready for some stiff drinks.
And, like all parents, we've asked ourselves and each other 100 times already if we did the right thing or not. Yesterday evening and today, Mallika has been a beautifully happy, loving, warm, laughing girl, but who knows? Man, parenting is something else. In so many other contexts, making the wrong choice may have high prices to pay, but only with parenting do you see how much power you have over this person you love so much and you so want only what best and right for them.
Peace,
Briana
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