Have you ever felt like this?* 
*actual picture from Moody Gardens in Galveston after a tantrum (don’t worry, I moved him to a more isolated area while we calmed down) By the way- he demanded I take this picture: “I AM having fun Momma. I WANT my picture with the bird.”
Is there anything more embarrassing than an all-out, public, no-holds-barred tantrum by a strong and well-practiced four-year-old? (Well, maybe one by a 37-year-old.)
Oh sweet Jet, our ‘loved by God’ gift from heaven. I know that before long his tantrums and fits will be a thing of the past, and I will mostly forget. For now though, when life overwhelms him, it is ugly. Lots of people have ideas about how to ‘fix’ him, and we have tried more than a few. If his siblings have taught me anything though, it is this: when I don’t know what to do with my children (which is often), I bring them to Jesus and fling myself at His feet and beg for mercy and help.
That sounds weak, doesn’t it? I should have started there. Or perhaps some people might tell me, “Well, if you would just do A, B, or C, then he would stop that.” And I agree! It should work, so I have tried A, B, C, D, E, and F. Having read most parenting books on the market surviving my first daughter, I can probably give a thorough discourse on at least ten different methods of handling fits. None of them worked definitively every time—not the step over and walk away, not the spanking, not the ignore, not the confine to their room, not the time out, not the circle of authority, not the lock Momma in the bathroom and rock in the bathtub (I think that was just me coping). Yes, I did them consistently, yes, I prayed over them, yes, I spoke calmly and authoritatively (most of the time).
I am learning that it is the place of surrender that takes the most strength. You see, early in my parenting journey, I laid down the law with a heavy hand. I desperately wanted my kids to ‘act right,’ especially since we were on staff at a church. God used my oldest daughter’s fits to bring me to my knees. Thank goodness, because now I have Jet, and an opportunity to do things differently. I have accepted that the law cannot save him—following the rules might make his life significantly easier, but it cannot save him. Only grace can save him.
I have to handle his fits with grace. I have stopped taking his fits personally. His fits do not make me unfit. It is my job to stay calm, create space and boundaries, and love him unconditionally (and remove him from public places when he’s overwhelmed). His fits actually create space to practice grace, and in that sense I am grateful. Humph. Who knew a screaming four-year-old could teach me about grace? That he would teach me the MOST about grace?