Tantrums and Lunch, Part II

The Big E and I participated in a longitudinal emotional development study at Washington University in St. Louis.  The purpose was to study depression in children.  They had a sign up sheet at the pediatrician's office, so I put our name down.  They called, and voila -- we were enrolled as a control subject.  We started when she was three and she finished her last round of interviews and MRIs last November.

The study sends us a semi-annual newsletter, which I received yesterday.  They shared several articles  written about the study.  Here are two:

How a Mother's Love Changes a Child's Brain:  http://www.livescience.com/18196-maternal-support-child-brain.html

and How Supportive Parenting Protects the Brain:  http://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2014/06/how-supportive-parenting-protects-the-brain/373496/

Initially, I thought it would be my kid they were studying.  Now I realize we were a pair.  I was just as much as guinea pig as she was.  I should have figured it when they wanted me to sit in a six hour interview asking me how often my kid cried in the past six months, and recount every episode.

So I am reading these articles on the study we participated in, which is very cool, when I came across a quote from Andrew Garner at Case Western Reserve University:

"Tantrums are emotional overload, not how the child feels about you."

This is the most important sentence I have ever read.  Ever.  Seriously, this is the secret to the universe for parents.  Maybe even non-parents.  I wish someone would have told me that on my first day of parenting, and every day thereafter.  I will frame this quote and hand it out to pregnant women at baby showers.  This would have saved me months, maybe years, of cumulative agony.

Yes, my children were exquisitely sensitive.  I would say are, but they are starting to mellow. Today, the Boy forgot his lunch.  Jack and I debated whether or not to bring it to him to avoid his first middle school meltdown.  Both Jack and I had meetings, and neither of us could swing by the school.  I had told the Boy he had money on his school lunch account, so he could buy in a pinch.  I was debating between letting natural consequences take their course (i.e., you forgot your lunch, therefore, you must buy your lunch and eat mediocre cafeteria food) versus a meltdown.  In the grand scheme of the world, eating cafeteria food is not the worst thing in the world.  He could still eat.  I was more worried about myself and the aftermath:  Would I get a call from the principal or counselor?  "Hi, your son forgot his lunch and there was a nuclear meltdown in the cafeteria.  Please come and get him."

But no, he was fine.  He came home from school, walked into the kitchen and brightly said, "There it is!" as he saw his grey bag on the counter and proceeded to polish off his lunch.   I asked if he bought a school lunch.

"No," he said, "I just begged for food.  My friend gave me a granola bar.  I was fine."  This, the boy who has such specific and high maintenance requests for food.

He made it through the day.  He found his way out.  He solved his own problem.  It isn't about me.