Tag Archives: crying kids

When a Crying Baby Makes You So Angry You Might Hurt Them

Posted on by Amy Pybus
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A reader sent in one of the most heartfelt and brutally honest comments I’ve had, and I needed to respond right away.

One of the most popular posts on this blog has always been Don’t Feel Bad When Your Crying Baby Makes You Crazy. This is clearly a universal problem: people really do struggle when a baby is crying.

The reader, a man, said how much he loves his one-year-old daughter and that she rarely cries, but when she does, he gets so angry that he has to leave the room and punch furniture. He is afraid that he will scare and possibly hurt her with his anger.

First I want to reassure him that he’s doing the right thing. Go away, get rid of your anger, and come back when you can deal with the child. It’s far more upsetting for them to see you lose it in front of them or, clearly, to take your anger out on them. Your anger makes the moment more intense. The goal is to remain calm, and therefore calm the baby.

This is the hardest challenge of parenting – this is where you really have to dig deep, and I’m not just being facetious. You have to grow and change, which is really hard. You have to push yourself to find a place where you can be calm even when all hell is breaking loose around you.

If you lose control of your anger you can very easily hurt a little one, and it is terrifying for parents to think they have this capacity. Because no one talks about anger when it comes to little ones. We see the rosy pictures and the quiet moments and the joy joy joy we’re supposed to be feeling, when really we’re exhausted, emotional, scared, and sometimes just can’t handle the drastic (and irreversible) life changes we’ve just been through. Babies open up a whole new world we can’t possibly understand until we’re there, at 3AM with a screaming child, and we’ve got a major presentation at 9:00.

First let’s try to explain why all of this is happening. We get so noticeably upset by our baby’s cry because it is designed by nature to get your blood pumping – to get you to respond to its distress. It’s a survival instinct that we’re both physically wired for and there’s nothing we can do to change it.

But I also think that today we have immense pressure to never let our babies cry. All the gurus tell us to do everything we can to soothe our baby and stop the crying right away. But sometimes you simply can’t. And as the reader described, he then feels guilty because he can’t stop her crying and because his own emotional reaction feels out of control. Then the whole situation escalates quickly.

Sometimes being forced to stop crying is not the best thing for a child. Babies feel stress too, and they need a way to let it out. When we run in and force them to calm down we’re saying don’t cry – it’s not good for you. That emotion you have is bad and we need to stop it. A baby feels what they feel, they can’t analyze it.

Put her in a safe place and walk away. You both need a timeout, and that’s OK (and sometimes the safest thing to do). In fact I will often tell my day care kids, “Amy needs a timeout!” and run and hide in the kitchen. We can only take care of our kids if we take care of ourselves first. (This rule applies forever, at any age, in all situations.)

A little bit of crying has never hurt or permanently scarred a baby. It lets them deal with their own big emotions and learn how to self-soothe. There are times in life when Mom and Dad simply don’t know how to stop the pain. We can’t always fix everything, and it’s OK for a child to feel sad. Crying is a release.

Let’s face it, we are not a culture that deals well with ugly emotions. We don’t know what to do with our anger so we bottle it up until it explodes at the wrong time. It scares us, and that’s a healthy thing, but that also leads us to hide it away. When we’re sad we try everything to stop the crying, to hold that feeling in, rather than letting it out. Sometimes your body just can’t do that, even though we try to put our societal norms on it and say we’re too civilized for this ugliness. It’s not true. We need to be able to face it and then let it go, and teach our kids how to do that as well.

Therefore, I would like to introduce you to my friend Nubs. The boys named him that because he doesn’t have arms (or maybe something dirty but I chose not to delve any further). When we got him I thought it would be a hoot – but basically a joke – that I would be able to take my anger out on him. One day I half-heartedly punched his face. In a few minutes my hands hurt so badly that I had to go back to the store and get sparring gloves. When I’m not punching Nubs, I pat him on the head and thank him for taking my abuse, because honestly, there are some days when he saves our lives.

One of the most important things I do with my day care kids is teaching them how to deal with anger. There are many books out there on the topic, and one of their favorites is If You’re Angry and You Know It. I developed a song chart they can pick from and we sing, “If you’re angry and you know it growl it out!” Grrrrrrr, with lots of roars and gritted teeth from the crowd.

The reader asks if he should seek professional help and I would say I don’t think you’re at that point right now. The baby’s cries will get less intense as she gets older (and in case they don’t, remember that the best thing you can do with a tantrum is WALK AWAY – ignore it and don’t feed it, whatever you do).

But I’m glad that you realize that if it doesn’t get better, and you find yourself raging at your child, that you will need to ask for help. You are on the right track, and you’ve tapped into something very strong – the way our kids can push our buttons until we rage. As they grow it might not be crying, but other very sneaky ways they know to get us going.

It’s OK to show our kids that we’re angry. It’s an honest emotion and sometimes they push us to it. They have a part in the dance and need to learn why misbehaving is wrong. It’s part of growing up, and parents teaching their kids right from wrong.

Still I had the hardest time with this because of those messages – life is beautiful, never ugly, our children are precious, never let anything scar or hurt them, and NEVER tell them “No.” My son was a wild three-year-old and I battled him. One day I screamed so loud that it scared even me. I called my friend Pam and cried. I told her I don’t know what I’m doing but I know it’s wrong. I’m afraid I hurt my child.

She said, “Amy, what is he doing right now?” I looked out the window and said, “He’s running up and down the driveway with his Power Rangers cape on.” Pam asked, “Did you crush his spirit?” I had to admit that I didn’t. And what a relief that was. And accept the knowledge that our kids are far more resilient than we give them credit for. I waited until I collected myself and went and gave him a big hug. But I remembered that the next time he was getting me upset, I would let him know before I became a screaming monster.

I’m not much of a yeller now. I’m direct and honest, and address issues before they get out of control. I’m firm but loving. It’s been the hardest process of my life to learn how to handle my emotions, and the kids, and their emotions, in a healthy and productive way.

There is a quote that comes to mind every time I feel my anger rising at my kids. When I remember that they are the most precious and important thing in my life, and that I am the God of their world. That my response is literally going to shape their lives and teach them the emotional strength for how to get through the toughest times:

“Your defining act of love for your child will not be the 2:00 AM feedings, the sleepless, fretful night spent beside him in the hospital, or the second job you took to pay for college. Your zenith will occur in the face of a withering blast of frightening rage from your child, in allowing no rage from yourself in response. Your finest moment may well be your darkest. And you will be a parent.” (Michael J. Bradley)

It’s All Downhill From Here

Posted on by Amy Pybus
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Today was just hard. I jinxed myself. The boys were counting the days to Easter and I said “It’s Wednesday – hump day. Once you get over the hump it’s all downhill from there.”

I didn’t think about just how big the hump would be.

I woke up with a splitting headache – never a good way to start. The morning was so busy that I didn’t get the chance to down some ibuprofen until 10:00, and by then the tone had been set.

One girl followed me around all morning saying my name every 15 seconds, and if I didn’t answer she just increased her volume until she was yelling, almost demanding that I acknowledge her.

The big boy was mad that I wouldn’t let him go on the toddler swing so he started slamming it into the girls who were riding the big kid swings on either side of him.

The toddler is obsessed with the infant and every time I put him down she lays on him. If I pick him up, she follows me around saying “Carry! Carry!”

The baby threw up all over my shoulder while we were outside, so I couldn’t change my shirt (or answer the phone when my sister called because - how do you put the phone on your shoulder when it’s covered in puke?).

At one point three kids were screaming in the driveway because they all wanted THE DARK BLUE CHALK!!!!!

At lunch time I brought the bowls and drinks out before the mac & cheese was done, and started setting up the beds for nap time. When I came back in the girls were standing on chairs, scaling the toy shelf to reach the bowls they wanted. (I should point out that they know they are not supposed to climb on chairs. OR on the toy shelf. And that they fight over the bowls, and the spoons, and what chair they’re going to sit on, and who they sit next to, and where the chair should be located. Every day.)

I scolded them for climbing (which made one girl cry – oh great, now I’m making them cry), got them to sit down and served the food. The baby woke up and needed a bottle. I knew I put it somewhere….oh yes the toddler saw it and made off with it. While I went in quest of the bottle the kids were taking a bite of their food and then strolling around the house. Which they also are not allowed to do. I rubbed my aching head and could feel the vein pulsing in my temple.

Now as I sit here during quiet time with a perfect baby face in my lap cooing at me, I don’t remember why I was so mad. I am melted by the happy noise he makes when he sees me walk in the room. I’m consciously soaking up some baby-love and taking a few deep breaths, because I know I’m girding up for the rest of the afternoon.

And the girls are throwing toys in the NAP room, and I’m trapped under the sleeping baby. Thank goodness there are only 3.5 hours left to this hump.

**Addendum so you know I’m not a terrible person: yes, the moon was indeed almost full last night, as many people suspected. But today I woke up sick as a dog. That would explain it.**

Movie Review: Friends With Kids

Posted on by Amy Pybus
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I saw this movie last night with one of my mom friends, so we had a true appreciation for the subject matter. I was excited about this movie – I love the actors (Dear Edward Burns: Thank you), the sense of humor, and the honesty about relationships that this group of people usually delivers.

And I applaud Jennifer Westfeldt for taking on this subject. It was interesting to see her and Jon Hamm, the famously wildly-in-love, not married, purposely-childless celebrity couple exploring this territory. As a “with-kids,” I don’t disparage their choice: I absolutely respect it. The pressure to marry and have kids is extreme, especially when everyone around you is doing it and you’re not.

Westfeldt also nails the New York hipster-parenting life right down to the details: how Brooklyn is simply another planet from Manhattan, square footage, high-end birthday gifts, hanging out at 10:00 in an empty family-neighborhood bar. (Plus two wilco songs. See - I’m such a hipster that I know you’re not supposed to capitalize wilco.)

Also kudos to Westfeldt for nailing the relationship types, which can be a tired cliche, but she managed to deliver so truthfully. You had the solid-but-snarky, the doomed, and the will-they-or-won’t they couples. But I really felt their pain rather than thinking “What a bunch of stererotyped idiots” (which I usually do when watching hipsters onscreen).

And she gets that the epiphanies of our lives don’t happen over romantic candlelit dinners or Vermont ski weekend getaways – they happen in the basement.

My only complaint about the movie is the treatment of the children and family life. I’m not sure whether it was done on purpose to illustrate the point, but the point was evident: this generation of parents is far too wrapped up in their own personal dramas (and status symbols) to realize there are kids in the picture.

Our parents knew what was coming when they had kids: big changes. A commitment to something, someone else, that was bigger than anything they’d ever experienced. Our parents didn’t “know” as much about parenting as we do because they didn’t have the “benefit” of brain research and 1,000 parenting blogs. But they knew much more on a deeper level.

Friends With Kids illustrates how parents today have trouble dealing with the consequences of marriage and children. I believe that one character at some point delivers a very truthful what-did-you-expect comment. But otherwise, the parents are running around like animals - and so are the kids. They are so reliant on getting drunk to deal with the hell of their lives that they become almost a parody. There’s only one person who’s actually sympathetic to the kids, and it’s the hunky boyfriend (yeah he really is dreamy, I’m talking to you Edward Burns).

And there’s the nugget that we parents often miss: our kids behave the way we do. If you want to see a mirror reflection of your own behavior, just look at your kids. Not always easy, is it?

One of the best scenes in the movie shows the unavoidable and profound difference between the “with kids” and the withouts. One of the dads is in a fancy restaurant with his trophy girlfriend, who comments that the parents with the rambunctious kids are so stupid and selfish for bringing them out. He turns to the mom, who has the “I’m so sorry but I’m doing the best I can” smile on her face, and tells her, “Your kids are adorable.” When he turns back to his girlfriend, she is at the far end of the table scowling at him.

The sad but true theme of this movie is that the bridge between friends with and without kids is really hard to cross (though not impossible). So, a ray of hope? Overall, I really enjoyed it (though after a kick-ass start it did have a long slow pace). And I should know what to expect when the title is Friends With Kids, not “What Life is Really Like when You Have Kids.” But who would go see that movie?

Well, me.

Painless Pickups

Posted on by Amy Pybus
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This week’s reader question:

Why does my daughter pretend I’m a monster when I pick her up from day care?

I’m assuming that you mean she treats you like you’re a monster, not that she actually pretends you’re Godzilla and runs away screaming. Though that would be fun and entertaining.

And the running away screaming part can often be true, so your child is not alone. I’ve seen other similarly icky behavior like crying, tantruming, kicking, ignoring, full-on defiance, pulling off the coat and shoes that have already been put on, clutching the provider, refusing to put down a toy, stalling, stalling, stalling, etc. It has happened to all of us, so don’t feel bad. You’re not really a monster.

You’re dealing with transition times, which are always tricky – especially at day care age. When they’re this little, sometimes it’s just hard for kids to move from one activity to the next. It’s extra tough at the end of the day when everyone’s a little cranky, no matter how great of a day they’ve had. I call it “the witching hour” (and that hour lasts from 4:30 – bedtime).

Also there’s a lot going on in that moment: you have expectations of seeing your child, your feelings are hurt because they’re being awful, the provider is probably trying to talk to you about their day, other kids are around making the usual ruckus, it’s a very stressful time.

Besides all that, look at what your child is doing and see the moment from their perspective. They may be right in the middle of a crayon masterpiece and don’t want to be interrupted, but your arrival means they have no choice. Sometimes the emotions are just too much.

So pickup time can be a perfect storm. What’s a sad-Godzilla mom to do?

Work with your provider to establish a routine for pickup times. Ask if she can have your child ready with coat and shoes on. I try to have my end-of-day pickups on the front porch so we’re ready to walk out the front door instead of lingering all through the house.

Try to arrive at the same time every day so it’s very predictable for your child. I always tell parents they know when you’re coming – and if there’s a usual order for pickup they know that too. If they always get picked up after Johnny and before Susie, they will be upset if Susie gets picked up first. If you are very late, they will get worried. Let the provider know you’ll be late so she can reassure your child.

Recognize that it might not be the best time for talking with your provider, and call her at another time if there’s something you need to discuss. If your child is SO excited to see you but you’re saying, “Wait a minute!” so you can talk to someone else, that’s going to hurt their feelings and escalate fast. I had one provider who would open the door, hand me my child, say, “It was a good day, see you tomorrow,” and close the door. Well, it was quick and painless.

It may not seem true, but often quicker transitions are much easier. It doesn’t give your child a chance to ramp up the behavior. There’s no negotiating if – boom – you’re out the door. Try not to respond to any bad behavior in this moment except to say, “It’s time to go. Say goodbye to (insert provider name here) and your friends!” Then walk out the door, carrying the crying child if you have to.

If all else fails, know that this too shall pass. You will have days when your child runs screaming TOWARD you, and you will feel like your chest is going to explode. You’ll have days where they barely acknowledge you but at least they head for the door without a fight. And know that beneath whatever they’re showing you on the outside, they are really SO happy to see you, and so relieved that they get to go home with you. There’s no one like Mom – that’s why we can show her our ugliest self – and she will still take us home with her.

Winter Break: A Providers-Eye View

Posted on by Amy Pybus
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Any provider knows school vacation weeks are extra challenging. In my case, it’s the usual number of little kids plus my two boys plus my after-schooler, and various friends dropping by here and there.

On top of an unusually warm and sick winter. Every child has had some illness, and I’ve had them all. So I’m at the end of my energy. Wait, maybe if we could use the amount of germs to convince people that global warming is a problem! You don’t want to be sick? Vote for wind power.

While I was making lunch…wait. While I was making lunches: one for the smaller kids, one modified for the after-schooler (Miss S) who didn’t like the first choice, one each for Older and Younger Son, who will never eat the same meal, one for the visiting friend who didn’t like any of the other choices, and one for me – I got tired of being pestered for seconds by Miss S. I said “You’ll have to wait. I’m making lunch for nine people here.”

She looked around herself at the day care table and said, “No, only five people.”

I said, “There are nine people in this house and they all have to eat.”

She counted all the kids again and said, “Oh, you mean eight.”

So that about sums up my feelings during a week like this. No, I don’t actually exist or have needs, I am simply here to meet yours.

The weather’s been mild enough to get outside a bit, but still cold enough to chase us back in after a few minutes. I can’t do a proper circle because Miss S wants to be me, my sons continue everything they’re doing regardless of my circle (i.e. Wii games, wrestling, and interrupting me to ask for second breakfasts), and I can’t really read or sing anyway because of my sore throat.

So in an effort to entertain all the kids I did one of our fairly easy but fun crafts – I Spy jars (old water bottles filled with rice and fun little things to find). While I gathered the supplies I opened the giant box of rice to let the kids play with it (this is an awesome tactile activity btw).

I can predict what happens with these projects as easily as I can predict that – well, that I’ll be sick in February. Every child is ecstatically thrilled with the rice for about four minutes. They are engaged and enthralled, freeing me up to gather all the fun little things that go in the jars. Then the giggles get louder and the rice starts flying around the room. Miss S is following me while I gather the supplies, asking 100 questions and starting the project without me by filling her bottle, which is still wet on the inside.

Mr. R, after tossing some rice, is done with the project and is banging on the glass French doors in the living room. After I bring him back to the project, he dumps what I’ve put in his bottle all over the middle of the table and everyone’s work. While I recover from this disaster, he heads over to the desk and starts touching my computer.

By the end of the activity, it’s been over an hour of impatience, pestering, fighting over who gets the kitty cat or the purple flower, and my “helpers” abandoning me. The morning is summed up when I look under the table and find the entire dumped-out box of pom poms which I left out of reach. I’m cleaning rice from every surface in the room and trying to re-sort all the pieces back into their homes while the kids are using their now-complete I Spy jars as weapons.

And Miss D is sobbing and screaming because when she wailed Younger Son in the back with her bottle, it split open and everything poured out.

Yippee!!!!!

Still, the jars came out awesome. And I look to next week with mixed feelings. I’m happy to know I’ll have my quiet time back without having to entertain big kids who don’t nap. And not having to drag everyone back and forth to school is heaven. But other than that, I’ll miss my boys. They were nice to have around, despite the trail of food wrappers and dirty clothes that they leave in their wake. They were considerate and helpful, and they’re at the point where I can yell out “Older – get Mr. R away from the French doors,” and – he’ll do it! That’s a miracle right there.

As always, the stress of the week is balanced with something nice, which happened Friday morning around the snack table. Everybody was getting wound up: our newest big sister is having a hard time adjusting to life with a baby. Someone touched someone else’s snack. Another was crying because no one would give her a chance to talk uninterrupted. I said, “I think everyone is just in a cranky mood today.”

Miss D looked at me and said, “That’s OK, because Amy’s here.”

My heart melted, as it always does when one of the littles looks me in the eye and gives me back some of that love. So maybe I do more than just meet everybody else’s needs after all. I am a calming presence. A leader who sets the tone. Or as Dave would say, “Yeah yeah everyone knows you’re a saint. What’s for dinner?”