March 18--To parent a tantruming tween is to try living in three places at once: the past, the present and the future.
(Plus an undisclosed fourth place where no one can find you, except a guy who swings by occasionally to give shoulder massages.)
Your kid is losing it, and you're darting into the past to determine what may have brought on the tantrum, the present to decide how best to react, and the future to discern the consequences, short- and long-term, of your reaction.
It's all sorts of disorienting. Rarely do kids in the tween years fling themselves onto the floor and do that kicking thing that looks like a Pilates instructor gone rogue, but they can still throw a mean tantrum.
"An older kid's tantrum might look like rolling their eyes and storming off, or it might turn into, 'You're the worst mom in the world!' and slamming doors," said Michelle Icard, author of "Middle School Makeover: Improving the Way You and Your Child Experience the Middle School Years" (Bibliomotion).
I called Icard to talk about tween tantrums because I've witnessed a few recently. And by witnessed I mean survived. And by survived I mean barely.
I find them harder to bounce back from than toddler tantrums, because they feel personal in a way that a 2-year-old screaming for more juice doesn't. Toddlers' tantrums are easy to compartmentalize. They eventually stop screaming; you go back to making them a snack. (Making them a snack, if I recall, is 85 percent of parenting toddlers.)
Older kids' tantrums hurt your feelings and bruise your ego, so that even when they're over, it's hard to know how to proceed. Lick your wounds and move along as though nothing happened? Sulk for a bit, so your child recognizes that her words and actions have the power to hurt others?
Neither feels exactly right.
Help, I begged Icard.
"One thing you want to remember is that a tantrum doesn't come out of nowhere," she said. "It feels like it does, but there are usually a lot of other stressors that have fanned the fire before it really ignites.
"Kids who are in late elementary and middle school are dealing with a lot of judgment at school, peers and social pressure, so you may be the only person they feel they can safely erupt around," she continued. "That's a small consolation when your kid's being terrible to you, but I think it helps you remove yourself from it."
You can also, Icard said, physically remove yourself from it.
"Don't engage during the heat of the moment," she said. "It helps to have some kind of an exit line. 'You're really upset. Let's talk about this later when we're both calm.' Or, 'It's really tough to feel that way. Let's talk about it later.'"
Once relative calm has returned, Icard said, you get to tell your child how you feel. You should, in fact, tell your child how you feel.
"Kids can't read facial expressions from about age 11 and on," she said. "They'll mistake your feelings for anger more often than anything. And you may be feeling anger, but you may be feeling rejection, you may be feeling confusion. You owe it to your kid to tell them that. Just don't do it in the heat of the moment."
With older kids, she said, it's not so critical to address behavior as it's happening. You can even come back to the tantrum a week later.
"Take as long as you need to figure out what you want to tell them," she said. "Then say, 'Hey. I want to talk about what happened. My feelings were really hurt, and I need to talk to you about it.'"
This feels like a good compromise between the two parenting styles I've tried adopting at various times (sometimes within the same day): The never-let-them-see-you-sweat style, which is meant to convey that I am unflappable and all-knowing; and the doing-the-best-I-can style, which is meant to convey that I'm human.
Grown-ups get to be human, Icard's advice says to me. We get to sweat, fail, hurt, fumble. We just shouldn't do it at the same time as our kids.
I can do that.
No need for that undisclosed fourth place after all. I'll stay put in the present, with the people who drive me bananas and make me swoon with love, all at the same time.
hstevens@tribpub.com
