I do remember what it was like to be 14. To be filled with emotions that I did not understand, thrown into situations I was not familiar with or prepared for and living in a world that was out of my control.
This is probably very similar to how I felt at four.
The difference is, at 14, I was able to communicate the way I was feeling. I was able to sit around the lunch table with my closest friends and commiserate. I had the choice to talk to my Mom, to tell her about all the thoughts swirling around in my head. Now remember, I was 14, so that did not happen often, but I had the ability to communicate those thing to her if I chose to do so.
My 4 year old does not. She does not understand everything she is thinking and feeling. She does not yet have all of the language to be able to describe to me the thoughts and emotions she is experiencing on a daily basis. Things are happening in her world that she has no control over, and whether you are 4 or 14, all you want is a little control.
So when she has a monumental melt down (I'm talking big here people) in the middle of a store because I would not let her carry the heavy basket full of breakable items, I have to take a deep breathe, step back and let her have her moment because that is the only way she knows how to communicate to me that she is angry and frustrated and tired of not being able to make the decisions. One day she will have the language to tell me these things but right now she is still figuring it out.
Did I get looks from strangers because I was standing by while my spoiled child was throwing a fit out in public (the horror!)? Yes. Did I feel like a failure because I could not snap my fingers and make the tantrum stop? Sure.
Did I have to remind myself that she is a normal 4 year old and I am a normal mother and this scene plays out in department stores around the globe everyday? Yup. I actually have a great story about a tantrum my husband threw as a child over a football, but that is for another post.
The fact that my daughter made a public scene does not mean that she is a bad kid. It also does not mean that I am a bad mother. It means that she is still trying to figure things out. One day she will realize why Mama did not want her to carry that heavy basket. She will also have the maturity to know that is not something worth getting so upset over. There are much worse things in the world - like boys - that you can cry about.
One day she also will not be 4 years old. Until that day, she and I will continue this dance until she is able to communicate her feelings to me - and then she probably won't want to anyway.
Such is life.
