Before our boys were even born, we dreaded the “Terrible
Twos.”
How could we not? It seems that’s all we ever heard about,
once people found out we were having twins. “Oh, you’re going to have two of ‘em
going through the terrible twos!” “Look out! Two times the terrible twos!!” And
so on and so on.
So we were more-than-prepared, so we thought, for tantrums,
defiance and boundary-pushing. We were prepared for crying and screaming and
meltdowns galore.
But we were not prepared for Dean.
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| Don't let the cute face fool ya: This handsomest child ever gives us a run for our money. |
Dean’s tantrums were epic, long and drawn out, high-pitched
and woeful. His screams were ear-piercing; his tears were real. He was never
violent or scary. It was just you could tell that once he got going, he had a
really, really hard time soothing himself. The meltdown was cannibalistic: The
more he cried, the more he felt like crying, and so the more he cried. Does
that make sense?
We tried everything recommended: Ignoring it. Talking him
through it. Distracting him. Giving him extra love and hugs. Getting down on
his level and acknowledging his feelings. Time-outs for over-the-top screaming.
More love, more hugs, more ignoring. Sometimes, I’ll admit, we were at our wits’
end, and we yelled. Sometimes I’d put him in his crib until he could calm down.
And then I’d fume, or cry, thinking about him all alone in his room unable to
sort through whatever it was he was feeling.
I was losing sleep at night about this, wanting so much to
meet his needs, and second-guessing everything I did or didn’t do throughout
the day. And it was also, quite frankly, making things tough around the house.
The screaming and crying would start from the time we got home and go on
sometimes until after bedtime. He’d freak out about everything: He wanted something he couldn’t have. He wanted to walk
and not be carried. He wanted to be carried and not made to walk. We didn’t get
his spoon fast enough. Cary had his toy. Clair was in my lap. It got to be we
hardly knew what was going to set him off. And so the days were nerve-wracking
and unpleasant for everyone. Even Cary and Clair seemed to be bothered by all
the melodrama.
I talked to my doctor about it, who, after asking a zillion
questions about intensity, frequency and duration, declared Dean well within
the realm of normal. In fact he said Cary was the one who was more abnormal, if
you will, for sorta be-bopping through the day, and quickly rebounding from
meltdowns with the simple promise of being rewarded by reading. (Not that Cary doesn’t
melt down. He does. Believe me. It's just whinier and poutier, not as furious and deep-seeded.)
I also talked to a psychiatrist friend who works with
children. Not because I thought Dean was that far-gone. I certainly did not.
But for strategies, mostly, and to assure myself that the things we were doing –
though not seemingly very helpful – were not at all harmful to my baby boy, who
so obviously needed something that we weren’t giving.
(She too assured me, after asking a zillion questions, that
he was well within the range of normal.)
Long story short, Dean is doing SO much better these days.
Much fewer tantrums, and much shorter times between freaking out and getting
over it.
So what did it?
Legos.
Yes, Legos.
I took all the things the pediatrician and my friend said and
considered them all. And some of their advice was quite helpful. But I could not shake the feeling that Dean was acting out
because of something I was or wasn’t doing. This was more than mere
Mommy-guilt. I just knew it.
So I started to think about how our days were spent being dominated
by Cary and his desire to “READ!!” All day long. Dean enjoys reading too, but
after awhile, I’d notice that he had wandered off somewhere and was, generally,
doing something he shouldn’t do. Pulling outlet covers out, or tearing a book, throwing
small toys, or pushing Clair’s swing really hard. I’d scold him or put him in
time-out, and this would go on several times a day. By the end of the day, I
think Dean was tired of being scolded, chastised and sent to time-out. By the
end of the day, we’d get the full force of his unhappiness.
So I thought, “We need to find things that Dean likes to do,
and do those more often throughout the day.” Immediately, I thought of trying Legos.
And I found Starbuilders at a client’s office and thought he’d like those too. One recent weekend, I went out and bought
them both, big tubs of them, and I cleared out the toy box in our living room
of miscellaneous junk and baby toys, and left only books, dolls, cars/vehicles, puppets,
puzzles, balls and the Legos and Starbuilders. (Their kitchen, instruments, easel and other big toys are in the playroom in the basement.)
The Legos, as I’ve mentioned, were a big hit right away. He
loved them. And I swear, now that he has something that he enjoys doing for a
big chunk of the day, he gets into far less trouble. He sits and builds long
strands of Legos and then takes them apart and does it again. He is so occupied
by this activity, he isn’t looking around for naughty things to do. The end
result is less scolding, and fewer time-outs. So that when he does have to be
disciplined for something, he takes it so much better! Oh, he’ll still scream
and cry, but for two minutes not 20.
And I’ve finally found something I can distract him with
(besides snacks). Before Legos, I had nothing that he really wanted to do to
bribe him with (besides snacks). Now the same way I can say to a melting down
Cary, “Hey, can you find Mommy a book to read?!” and he calms down to go get a
book, I can say to a melting down Dean, “Can you go get me the box of Legos? I’m
going to make a TALL building!” And he bites!
It is awesome!
The net result of the fewer timeouts and diminished
discipline is a happier, calmer Dean. And a happier, calmer house.
And that is why I say that Legos saved my life! :-)
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