Tantrums

Isabel is 15 months old, going on five. She has quite the little personality and at times, quite the little attitude.

Tantrums. I'm guessing that every woman before they become a mom thinks that their future child will never throw a tantrum in the store, or at least I thought that.

Boy. Was. I. Wrong.

Saturday after my basketball games (we won one, lost one), I met up with my mom, Leanne, and Isabel shopping. Izzy was her normal, cheerful yet busy self. We stuck her in a mall-owned stroller and went shopping. At first, she loved the little wheel in the front and proceeded to believe she was actually driving the stroller, turning the wheel over and over, giggling the entire time. Yet, it lost all of its newness as soon as we got into the store.

Izzy decided to scream. And cry. And turn red in the face. I had a coffee in one hand (big mistake) my purse and some clothes in the other...and a bad knee to go along with it. Of course, I had two choices to make when she started throwing her tantrum, panic and freak or calmly figure out how to reassure her. I did neither. Yep, I stood there with my hands full, almost in a state of shock. This was her first melt-down (and probably not the last). Thankfully, I had helpers. My mom grabbed the clothes from me to free my hands and a random store worker handed me some tissue to wipe her tears. She calmed down fairly quickly but not without me getting her out and holding her to calm her and not without the help of others.

Crisis. Adverted. But not by supermom. It really does take a village to raise a child.