Wrestling a Tornado

Every day I wrestle a tornado, cuddle a cactus, and dance with a dragon;  I wouldn't have it any other way.

The Cuddlers vs. the Pricklies

I don't want to shock you too early in the morning, but it turns out my children are not the same person.  Don't worry, it's a common misconception about large families. It's just easier to lump them into one massive personality of "Charlotte's kids" and deal with them uniformly.  My parenting would be greatly simplified if I was allowed the same luxury, but I've yet to brainwash them into a  hive mentality (seriously, you'd think my constant inability to call them by the right name would have worked, but, alas, it has not).

Anyway, some of my little minions, I mean angels, are cuddlers like their father.  They crawl into my lap and comfortably settle for the duration of my patience.  Others share my "why are you touching me?" personality, answering attempts to cuddle with prickly resistance.

For years dividing the cuddlers from the wigglers was as natural as divvying up the chocolate: some is milk, some is dark.  Sure I prefer milk and my husband takes the dark, but we've learned to share.  Some kids wanted/needed more physical contact that others.

An exception to the rule

And then there came my Joseph.  I've called him before a tornado in a bottle.  His five year old body is strong and incapable of sitting still.  Trying to hold him on your lap is likely to result in accidental bruises as he wiggles, tosses, and jerks away.  Obviously a noncuddler.

And yet?

He began to develop a bit of a tantrum talent.  I've never given into tantrums and, so, never had much of a problem with them.  Joseph, however, was quickly becoming an expert.  His screeching often leading to more aggressive acting out.

I was at a loss.  I observed, I pondered, I prayed, I experimented.  One day, out of the blue, in a moment of rare clarity, I realized he needed more physical contact.  Unlike the other noncuddling kids, his constant motion wasn't about not wanting to be held, it was just an inability to hold still.

Well, who would'a thought?

So I tried to hold him more often.  Not an easy task.  That child is HARD to hold.  He wiggles and I'm always guarding against an elbow to my eye or heal to my shin.  But, within a week of trying, the tantrums receded.  He started seeking me out throughout the day for hugs or a few minutes on my lap or just a quick peck on the cheek.  He still hasn't calmed down for the cuddles, I've just learned to dodge the unintentional attacks.  That child is a dark chocolate disguised in every way as milk.

So every day I wrestle a tornado, cuddle a cactus, and dance with a dragon; I wouldn't have it any other way.

What about you, have you ever had a child who needed the exact opposite of what they're body language was telling you?

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My beautiful blogger today is Mike from Is this Mike on?  It's nice to see parenthood sometimes from the perspective of the father.  Beneath all his tales is the undercurrent of a man trying to do what is best for his wife and children.  He shows this with a mixture of humor, nostalgia, hope, and experience.  Although, if he makes me cry in a post again, I may have to go punch his lights out (Just kidding, Mike!  Keep the tears coming.  I dare you.)


I know I missed the last two posts with Beautiful blogger, but Christine was on my list to add, so let's count the last post as a beautiful blogger award to her!  Thanks again Christine.