Tin’s little friend who is months older than him used to come over and hit him with such force it would knock him down. We were shocked. Now Tin has started. It comes from frustration and usually he hits me because he is in the Ergobaby and very tired and he is trying to fall asleep and wants to be in his bed not in a pouch. He reaches up and starts striking my face and my response has been to take his hand firmly and say no, hands are for caressing and then softly stroking my face and his with his hand. That has been the approach and it’s not as if it is working or not working because every time he is tired he does the same thing if he is in pouch. Sometimes he reaches up and thinks first and then strokes me gently but when he’s tired, he hits either me or himself.
While were traveling, he found himself one too many times in the Ergobaby when he was tired or wanting to run instead of be carried and so the hitting was much more noticeable like when we were in the car for an hour and he kept trying to hit me and I kept up my usual patient yet firm response of no, hands are for caressing and being loving.
But one time, we were crossing the street, me carrying heavy bags in both hands, and he was not tired but wanted to run and he so he hit me so hard that I, on instinct bit his hand. Yes, that’s right dear readers – I’m a dog. I didn’t bite hard, but the fact that I reacted so primal to him made me kick myself. Afterwards, when we were able to pause I kissed his hands and said I’m sorry but you can’t hit me in the face like that, hands are for caressing and we went through our role play where I take his hand and caress my face and then caress his face.
You know I’m 51 years old and I’ve found the patience to guide him through this time but even I have my limits. It made me very aware of how trying mothering can be sometimes. The woman I saw go ballistic and yell and hit her child who ran out in the streets (thankfully no car was coming), the mother I saw hit and yank her child at the convenience store, and the countless mothers who have done something akin to biting their own child’s hand gives me pause, but in the end, we’re human too.
Later as we continued walking, Tin said on his own, “Good girl” and who knows if that was meant for me, a detached musing, or he saw a dog and was thinking of Loca back home. Or perhaps even a little pat on the back from my mom. Hard to say.