Idyllic setting…  for a tantrum

Treasure Beach, Jamaica. The sparkling jewel of Jamaica’s tourist circuit. Hidden down miles of winding roads on Jamaica’s alluring South Coast, you will find this laid-back, unpretentious gem. This small group of sleepy sandy coves is miles away from the mega resorts and over-zealous hustlers of Jamaica’s big tourist towns. The emphasis is on community and the vibe is ‘relax, mon!’. Tourists flip-flop around rustic beach shacks, dining on freshly caught seafood and disappearing into clouds of sweet, illicit ganja smoke. Like all others, our young family travelled here to relax, chill, and find some peace.  Not the ideal place to experience a major toddler tantrum.

On our penultimate day of our Jamaica holiday, after a delicious breakfast of soft gooey ackee and saltfish on sweet pancakes at Smurf’s café, we go for a stroll along the beach at Frenchman’s Cove. As is fairly normal, Zizi, our 20 month old daughter and toddler, is getting tired. Trying to get her to sleep in our sling is getting nowhere so we decide to pause our meander along the beach and hole up in the shade for a while. White sand sparkling, blue sea glistening, we could spend all day here.

At one end of the beach is Eggy’s Bar, a small wooden beach hut on stilts painted in Rasta colours not far from the water’s edge. Recently rebuilt after a fire, we’d eaten grilled fish there the evening before in front of a glorious sunset. The kids had played on the beach and we, adults, had watched the sun dip below the horizon whilst sipping ice-cold Red Stripes. A perfect beach memory ingrained on our minds.

Finding a great shady spot under the palm-leaf roof of a closed beach bar we lay out the towels, fling out the sand toys and put on our swimwear. Dad decides to pop into the hotel next door and grab us some frozen smoothies. He walks off on his mission, our three year old son beside him. I prepare to relax…

The tantrum starts…

Then Zizi stamps her feet.

Her face goes red.

She starts to run towards hotel entrance. I follow, swoop down, pick her up and return to our towels in the shade.

She starts to wail. She starts to scream. The tantrum has started.

Calmly I offer her beach toys. Whack. I offer some milk. Whack. I offer some snacks. Whack.

Her screams get louder. Her face is becoming a brighter shade of scarlet.

Negotiating with a toddler

Gently I try and explain that Dada and H will be back soon with the drinks. I try to hold her. She scratches and slaps at my face. I put her down. Speak more consoling words. She grabs sand, throwing it at me as snot and dribble run down her angry face.

The tourists breakfasting next door on the beach front hotel veranda start glancing at us – Zizi’s shrieking disturbing their peaceful tropical breakfasts. A few local men sitting on the hotel’s beach wall look over in our direction. I begin to panic, to feel that horrible embarrassment (the one us mothers are ashamed to admit to) when your toddler is uncontrollable. She’s too wired to calm down into sleep mode and I’m stuck. It’s too hot for her to sleep on the beach anyway. Also, I can’t leave the belongings and Dad has the keys to our hotel.

Her screams get even louder…

Zizi is hot, tired and cross. There’s so much anger and confusion in her little knocked-off-routine body that she looks like she might explode as she carries on her tantrum – screaming and wailing.

Then she runs, stumbling across the white sands to the sea. Her wobbly toddler legs trying hard to outdo me. I grab her, return her to our shady spot a safe distance from the waves. I attempt to breastfeed. Connect with and comfort her. Not a common sight in Jamaica – but it’s a hippy kind of place…

But Zizi runs, she runs full pelt towards the sea. Standing, struggling with my bikini straps, trying to preserve the last shreds of my dignity I run towards her. She’s almost at the rocks. A crazy suicide mission. I lunge towards her and she throws herself face down into the soft sand. Picking her up I carry this screaming, snot-faced, sand-covered toddler alien back to our beach towels.

She needs to go to bed.

I’m alone

Stuck.

Time is standing still. Where is her dad and brother?

People (yes, many people: tourists and locals alike) are staring at us now. This crazy, flustered white woman and her sand monster struggling on the beach. One or two men roll their eyes at me. I feel judged. As a tourist. As a mother. As a woman losing her cool on a hot, sweaty beach.

The sand and bogey beast (my beautiful daughter overcome with rage and tiredness) is clawing at my face and my hair. This is not an Instagram moment of beach bliss. This is not a moment of exemplary parenting. This is an uncontrollable toddler tantrum.

Then cool as anything, the boys appear out of the hotel’s gate clutching ice-cold drinks. Oblivious and relaxed.

I let loose. I go berserk at my loved ones. I fling the screaming banshee child at her father. Grab the keys, our son’s hand and storm off. My heart pumping fast. My face red from heat and humiliation.

The aftermath

A short while later, I sit on our breezy open veranda drinking my cold smoothie (it’s deliciously refreshing, some might say it was worth a twenty minute wait!). My son plays happily with the owner’s son at my feet, making friends across cultures as easy as pie. Zooming his cars back and forth, romping with his dinosaurs.

I breathe.

I inhale.

I decide that I should probably take up yoga again. Try meditation. Calm down a bit.

Recovered, I consider how this tantrum has made me feel emotionally. It’s almost the end of our holiday. Can I do this again? Is it worth taking a toddler overseas? Is it fair on them when it means jetlag, shaking up their routine? Risking public melt-downs and leaky nappies on public transport? Is travelling worth the constant anxiety about safety? Should I really expect them to try strange foods? Dice with them vomiting on windy roads or cutting their feet on beaches? Is it fair on myself to leave myself open to heightened stress and public awkwardness?

Yes: it was only a tantrum

Yes to all the above. 100% yes. Yes and more yes.

“Come on now” I hear the critics saying “You’re talking about upsetting your toddler’s routine, risking their wellbeing, forcing tiredness and dodgy food up on them. You were humiliated and embarrassed on that beach. Stay at home.”

Tantrums happen at home too

But a small, strong voice inside of me says:

Hang on, my kids (pretty awesome as they are) sometimes have tantrums in the local park; occasionally refuse to eat baked beans; mostly they nap easily but other days they sit at the top of the stairs banging until 9pm; they’ve chipped their teeth in the garden and fallen out of baby swings; an endless list of mishaps and tantrums.

All these things happened at home or near home. In places designed to be safe for children. Home, where nearly all of their mother’s life revolves around them – and only them.

I ask myself some questions. Does it embarrass me more if my toddler has a melt-down tantrum on a Caribbean beach or in the local play park in front of people I know? Do I believe my children will be more grounded if day after day I take them to the same play groups, cafes and shops? Or will they still flourish if every once in a while that they get to hear the ocean’s waves crashing, feel soft, warm sand tickling their toes and try some ‘little bit spicy’ Jerk chicken, rice and peas?

Then I recall the last two weeks in Jamaica. Where I saw my children play chase with Jamaican kids; devour Spice Bun; splash in the Caribbean Sea; get up close and personal with crocodiles; whizz across waves in speedboats and swim under waterfalls. I watched them become explorers, sailors, zoologists and sprinters – and my heart swells with pride and optimism.

Tantrums are inevitable

Sometimes toddlers are adaptable and sometimes they are not. But us mothers, us parents, we need to follow our dreams. If you press pause on your dreams while you raise your children then you’ll be stuck in time for eighteen-odd years. Some of the best years of your life will drift by and so will their childhoods, their time with you…

My daughter’s childhood will inevitably contain tantrums and sulks, as well as adventures and cuddles. Through her tantrums she is asserting her independence and strength. I’m struggling to rediscover those same qualities within myself as I stumble into motherhood. The big toddler tantrum was a learning curve for both of us: we learnt about (bad) communication, the perils of not enough sleep and how I will spend the rest of my life trying to make sure my daughter doesn’t drown herself (literally and metaphorically!).

Sure, it was the mother of all tantrums – but the backdrop was amazing!!!

Is your little one still under 2? Check out our 11 reasons why babies are the best travel companions article.

Need some inspiration on where to travel with your toddler? Jump to our Destinations pages.