BOOK EXTRACT Reproduced with Kind Permission of the Author.
How to Survive the Terrible Twos
Diary of a mother under siege
Caroline Dunford has charted a year in the life of her two-year-old son, aptly known as the Emperor on account of his transparent master plan to bend the known universe to his will. She recounts her failures as honestly as her successes, and passes on what she’s learnt about:
- how to get a decent night’s sleep
- coaxing a half decent diet down your toddler
- keeping your child safe, at home and beyond
- getting your child out of nappies
- curing bad habits, from spitting and hitting to hair pulling and head-banging
…and plenty more of the everyday sagas and traumas that beset any parent of a two-year-old. This real life account reassures you that you’re not alone, and gives you plenty of suggestions and guidance to make this year feel more like peaceful negotiation than a siege.
EXTRACT
19th November
The Emperor is at the stage were he likes to repeat phrases. This morning I was greeted by, ”Uh-hun, tank ooo wery much”, which floored me until I remembered we’d been discussing Elvis last night. A few weeks ago, I was sure I heard the Emperor utter a particularly choice and juicy swear word. I decided, not very seriously, to give him his own innocuous swear word ‘fong’. After one repetition he has taken to it greatly, swinging Stinky Bear above his head like a bola and crying ”Fong! Fong!” I can imagine (all too easily) him launching into his battle cry as he scatters future nursery playmates before him. I have created Genghis toddler.
Toilet training. I’ve just read ‘Most children are toilet trained between 1½ and 2’ in one of those helpful supermarket magazines. Fong. Fong. Fong. There are times when the Emperor seems very aware of his bodily functions and times when he appears to have no clue. (How this can be with some of the brick loaded nappies he creates, I don’t know.) I know there is no point trying to train a toddler who has no idea of what is going on, but I’m feeling very inadequate again.
24th November
The Emperor has taken to sleeping late. It’s hard not to take advantage. I know small children find routine comforting, but if he needs to sleep? I love him more than I love life, but at the moment it’s such a relief when he’s asleep. Every waking moment he knows by some uncanny Imperial instinct exactly what he is not allowed to do or touch – so of course this is exactly what he does. He has more toys than Hamleys. Toys he will scream blue murder about, if I try to put enough away to check if the floor really is still there, but which he will otherwise totally ignore. A highlight yesterday was his stealing a gold watch, which had foolishly been left within his reach and attempting to fling it through the fireguard into the roaring fire. Fortunately his pitching arm isn’t that strong -yet.
26th November
Last night I was too tired to realise a toddler should not be running around until 4am. In the cold, hard light of day, it is perfectly obvious. Yesterday, the Emperor played happily all afternoon with his megablocks and an attendant slave. He was so happy and excited (and he’d stolen/cajoled some tiny pieces of high sugar fudge) that he forgot to have an afternoon nap. So at 6.10pm, as I was preparing the Imperial repast, he literally fell over, asleep on his feet. Ah, poor tot, I thought, little suspecting he would refuse to wake until 10pm. What was then meant to be a quick, warm bath before bed turned into water Olympics, followed by a track triathlon. All right, I thought, a few minutes by the fire, while wearing his Christmas red pyjamas and looking remarkably cute, will do no harm. It was so not the right thing to do. At 3.30am he was finally prepared to stay in his bed, albeit singing quietly to himself (loudly through the baby monitor). Around 4am, as I blurrily estimate it, he fell asleep. 8.30am this morning, he was up as bright and breezy as a valetudinarian returning from a summer on the Riviera, while I found myself trying to spoon coffee into the toaster.
Bedtime routine
Toddlers need a bedtime routine. Even if your child doesn’t want to go to bed he will learn to recognise that being taken to clean his teeth signifies the end of the day. A bedtime story is a useful marker. Baby books are a new industry. There are plenty of good, brightly coloured books for babies, and even some that deal with bedtime routines. Entering the terrible twos children become more aware of themselves as individuals. Life will be a whole lot easier if you establish boundaries early on. I have begun to indoctrinate the Emperor that when he hears me start How Do Dinosaurs Say Good Night? (by Jane Yolen and Mark Teague), he knows this is the last story of the evening and he needs to settle down. And it is always the last story no matter how much he pleads for more.
- Keep to a regular bedtime.
- Don’t fall into the bad habit of allowing just a little more time.
- Do the getting ready for bed things in the same order each night.
- Allow enough time to say goodnight properly and read a story.
- Be consistent when you leave the room. Tuck your child in, cuddle them and leave.
- If they follow you put them back to bed again…and again…and again. Stay calm; if you get upset or angry this will reinforce your toddler’s behaviour.
- By age two there is already a wide difference between children’s sleeping patterns. Some children will sleep 12 hours straight through the night, while others may sleep as few as seven hours plus their daytime nap. The easiest way to tell if your child is getting enough sleep is by assessing how awake and alert they are during the day.
29th November
I’m panicking. My chest is crushed by an invisible weight, and the tears behind my eyes could quench a volcano. And all this because I’ve been watching a PG rated TV series in which a little boy just got carried off by a monster, in front of his mother’s screaming face. It’s only a story, and my better half is already concocting stories where by the little boy is obviously saved off screen. I feel like a fool. I know there aren’t any monsters living locally. But there are people. There are people, there are wars, conflict, irrational acts of violence, cars and buses; a thousand and one things ready to snatch my little boy from me. How can I protect my son from the world?
I feel like King Canute trying to turn back not a watery tide, but a flood of danger. All life is risk. I know that pointless fear can poison life, but I am so damned scared that I will not always be able to protect my baby. He trusts me to make his world safe. He has yet to learn Mama is not an all powerful being.
Why don’t these fonging film writers think about the effect of their light entertainment on mothers of young children?
Caroline Dunford has previously worked as a psychotherapist, a counsellor, a supervisor, a writer and a tutor – sometimes concurrently. Even working three jobs at once did not, in any way, prepare her for the onset of motherhood. Today she is a mother and, when her son allows, a freelance writer.
Publication date 12 September 2005
ISBN 0 9548219 3 9
Price £7.99
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