That Mom (the One With the Kid Having a Public Tantrum)

We’ve all been That Mom at some point — the one everyone is staring at because she has a child throwing a tantrum. I’m never sure why people are staring. Is it because they are appalled by the child’s behavior? Is it a train wreck they can’t look away from? Or are they just curious how the mom is going to handle it?

One summer day I was That Mom. I took my kids, ages 5 and 6 at the time, to the Peabody Essex Museum (a great museum in Salem). We enjoyed the museum, and after, they were playing outside by a water feature. Before I knew it, they were in the water up to their knees, splashing around. Typically, I would have told them to get out, but it was hot and they looked happy, so I decided to be the go-with-the-flow mom.

Then I realized it was dinner time and we would need to head home. The kids reluctantly walked with me back to the garage, where I paid for parking and got change. My son asked if he could have the money. I said no.

The tantrum that ensued was a doozy!

I may have said no a bit snippily, but I’d given so much all day and I didn’t appreciate the ungratefulness. I probably could have given him a dollar, and he would have been happy, but why must he always get something? Maybe when a 5-year-old is tired and hungry, it’s not the ideal time to teach a lesson, but hindsight is 20-20.

He threw himself to the ground and screamed in a pitch that would put Mariah Carey to shame. That’s when everyone started to stare, and I became That Mom.

I tried the “walk away and ignore” approach with zero effect. I couldn’t leave him on a dirty sidewalk, so I picked him up and carried him while he kicked and screamed. Carrying a flailing 5-year-old isn’t as easy as carrying a 2-year-old (aren’t these tantrums supposed to end with the terrible twos?). I then put him down — that was a mistake! He went running through the garage while I chased him in hopes of keeping him from getting hit by a car, all the while trying to keep an eye on my daughter. I caught him, wrapped my arms around him, and staggered toward the car. At this point, I thought about yelling, “I promise I’m not kidnapping him!”

Somehow I got everyone buckled in the car. As I drove, my son continued to cry and kick the back of my seat. I attempted to give him a snack, but we were too far past his breaking point. My daughter ignored him and looked out the window like nothing unusual was happening. How she was able to do that, I’ll never know. Had she been taking a secret mindfulness class? I tried to take her lead and ignore him. Then the traffic was at a standstill.

I was trapped in the car, and I started to cry! I hit my breaking point too.

It felt like the longest car ride ever. When we got home, I closed my bedroom door and breathed deeply. I knew that’s what I needed to get through the remainder of the day. I was grateful when my husband got home and I had some parenting back up. Although, he probably wasn’t thrilled to listen to me rant about our terrible day. My son went to bed early and woke up the next morning rested, happy, and sweet as can be.

It’s been almost a year, and I can look back on that day with a different perspective. It was a good day. Although there was a terrible, tear-filled hour, there were also five fun-filled hours. I had let that hour define my day. My son was not ungrateful; he was a tired, hungry 5-year-old. I probably could have prevented that meltdown.

I can’t go back and change things, so I accept that I did the best I could.

All we can do as parents is what feels right at the moment, learn from our mistakes, and do better next time. I continue to be That Mom sometimes, but I’m learning to choose my battles wisely, take a break when I need it, and not let a moment define my day. When you’re That Mom, know you are not alone. Maybe those stares from other parents show they’re remembering when it was their turn.