Let me tell you about my 1.5 year old's epic tantrum during what was supposed to be a fun family outing: strawberry picking. First, I want to address that thought you might be having — "Strawberry picking?? I can't even make it to the park down the street in one piece!" — to which I want to say: this was the first, and maybe last, time I will attempt this kind of outing solo while my kids are toddlers. And you'll soon see why.
I went into the day so excited and honestly proud of myself for taking both kids (4.5 and 1.5 at the time) strawberry picking without my husband — and without much of a plan. Both kids eat strawberries like their lives depend on it, and it was the most perfect beginning-of-summer day, so what better thing to do?
We took a tractor to the strawberry field and received very specific instructions about what rows we could go into and how to pick the strawberries. I am a rule follower by nature, so I paid extra attention and made it a mission to follow them. Normally, rule-following works in my favor — it sets expectations and creates space for fun in a safe, organized way. But rule-following doesn't always translate the same way for kids, and I've been working on becoming more flexible.
The first couple of minutes were very cute. Both kids were amazed that they could reach out and — with very little effort — pluck off a juicy, huge strawberry. But then things started to go wrong. My 4.5 year old was having a great time and knew the mission was to collect, not eat every single strawberry. My 1.5 year old, however, decided that anything remotely edible should go directly into his mouth at a speed best compared to the Tasmanian Devil.
Then I started to feel it — that panic, that feeling of "this is not what you are SUPPOSED to do." The worry came that he would eat something rotten (he did) or get himself sick (thankfully he didn't). I tried to redirect him, make a game out of the basket, give him something else to eat — but that only heightened his fervor, which of course triggered my nervous system.
And then it happened. What every parent dreads in a public place. He went full meltdown mode.
He squirted the pouch all over me, grabbed my hair, screamed, kicked, thrashed — everything you'd expect from a 1.5 year old told he couldn't eat his favorite fruit that was literally right in front of him. People were looking. People were dodging. My friend was gently asking if I needed help. I could feel my heart beating fast, my breath catching, my body tensing.
But then something shifted. I scooped him up, held him close to my chest, brought him out of the field, and allowed him to feel his feelings. I told myself: "He is melting down because he is a toddler. And that is okay." I accepted that there was very little I could do besides be there, comfort him, and redirect. That his meltdown was not a reflection of how good or bad my parenting is — and that wishing it wasn't happening was only going to make me feel worse.
I rode the wave of his emotions. With the help of a very kind farm worker who had a knack with kids (he looks like Santa Claus and actually dresses up as him at the farm) my child calmed down. We both took deep breaths and returned to the day. I was covered from head to toe in strawberry juice and apple pouch, my button-up shirt completely unbuttoned — but my nervous system? That was intact.
This story is not about how to tame your child's tantrums. It's about how to remain present during a stressful time so that both of you don't end up with an overwhelmed nervous system. Here are the five things that helped me stay grounded.
5 Ways I Stayed Grounded in the Storm
I accepted — not resisted — the situation
There have been many times I've thought, "I wish this wasn't happening." I can tell you with certainty: it doesn't help. Wishing something isn't happening does not make it stop — it only deepens the suffering. When I shifted from wishing to accepting, I felt more grounded and reminded myself: I've been here before. I can handle this.
I stayed present and remembered this won't last forever
Did it feel like he was melting down for 500 years? Yes. But what feels like forever is usually minutes. I intentionally stayed away from future-tripping thoughts like "What if he does this every time we go out?" and instead gently reminded myself: this is happening right now, and right now is the only place I have any control.
I gave both of us grace
I stepped back and recognized: this was new for both of us. Exciting things can be overwhelming. He is 1.5 years old — I had just told him he couldn't eat his favorite food sitting right in front of him. I reminded myself it's okay to feel stressed, and that I don't have to be perfect to be a good mom.
I self-regulated to stay calm
I noticed my body entering fight-flight-freeze and did what I could to regulate — slow, deep breaths, relaxing my shoulders, leaning into connection. Holding my son helped both of us. Connection is one of the fastest ways to remind your nervous system that you are safe.
I leaned on humor
If you zoom out… it was actually kind of hysterical — the kind of scene you'd see in a parenting rom-com. I didn't dismiss the moment, but I allowed myself not to take it too seriously. He was okay. I was okay. And sometimes the ludicrousness of parenting is something we can laugh about — if not in the moment, then later.
Tantrums are going to happen. They are developmentally appropriate for toddlers. While we can't prevent all of them, we can become a grounded source of comfort during a time when our children need us most. I am by no means the perfect parent — as a parent and a therapist, I am always seeking new ways to learn. These strategies work for me; they aren't one size fits all. But the concept of remaining present and the practice of non-resistance can be used in many situations to help regulate your nervous system.
And if you are going to go strawberry picking with your toddler — maybe leave the white button-down shirt at home.
