I thought there was wisdom in spacing my two children apart--but, because of some developmental delays, I really feel that I have a pair of "terrible twos" right now. The tantrums seem symphonic; something happens in the woodwinds, then the brass section does its own thing.
In these moments, I find myself asking, "What would Peter Krause do?" Krause is the star of the series "Parenthood"; he gives a subtle, smart performance, and he is often better than the intermittently syrupy writing. Krause has a chaotic household; he has to dig deep for something that resembles self-control. He reminds me of Pamela Adlon, in "Better Things"--another unusually honest portrait of domestic life.
I had a weird encounter at the playground. (And I think "Encounters at the Playground" may become the title of my memoir.) I was talking to an awkward neighbor-dad about fits of rage. He was recalling that his daughter had just had a volcanic meltdown because of a half-day; she was unbelievably upset that she would have to eat lunch at home, and not at school. As a way of empathizing, I mentioned that I've sometimes said, to my children, "The thing that is bothering you right now is really not something worth thinking about." And my neighbor rolled his eyes and said, "Right. That's what everyone in the middle of a tantrum really wants to hear."
He is not wrong. But, also, maybe he is an asshole?
This is not the sole concern of my life. Alongside the operatic eruptions, my son is capable of wonderful gregariousness, playfulness, warmth. I'm happiest when he authors a joke. For example, he will sometimes give me a deadpan look, and he'll say, "Kiss my poopie." I'm then ready to hand him a Pulitzer Prize.
We trudge onward, with our varied strengths and weaknesses, doing our best. We get feedback--so much feedback!--whether we want it or not. On the whole, we're pretty happy, in spite of the nuttiness.
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