Let’s be honest: tantrums can derail even a well-planned Tuesday.

I’ve had a grocery run with a serene stroller nap turn into a parking-lot protest over a bruised banana. With two kids and a full-time job from home, I’ve learned that the difference between “we survived” and “we learned something” is usually one small swap.

Below are nine common missteps I still catch myself making—and the quick, realistic tweaks that keep our house calmer without requiring saint-level patience or a Pinterest playroom.

1. Treating every meltdown like a five-alarm emergency

When Emil hurls himself onto the rug, my own heart rate spikes.

The mistake is believing I must fix it immediately. That urgency pushes me into over-talking, over-promising, or overreacting.

Quick swap: Slow your body first. Soften your shoulders, breathe out longer than you breathe in, and lower your voice.

I picture myself turning the household “volume knob” down one click. Kids borrow our nervous systems; your calm is the reset button. As the American Academy of Pediatrics reminds us, tantrums are a normal part of development—staying calm and steady helps them pass sooner.

2. Talking too much, too soon

My default is narration—systems brain, hi—but mid-storm, logic sounds like static. Explaining why we can’t have popsicles before dinner often pours gasoline on the fire.

Quick swap: Fewer words, more presence. Kneel, make your face kind, and offer a simple reflection: “You wanted the blue cup.” That’s it.

When the wave crests, then add next steps: “Blue cup tomorrow. Right now, water bottle.” Dr. Dan Siegel sums this up with “name it to tame it”—label the feeling first to help the brain settle.

3. Negotiating in the red zone

Ever stacked deals mid-scream? “If you put on shoes, we’ll stop for muffins…and maybe a cartoon…” I’ve been there.

The problem: mid-tantrum bargaining can accidentally reward the behavior we don’t want, teaching kids that yelling is a shortcut to “yes.”

Quick swap: Hold the boundary, offer one calm—and boring—alternative. “Shoes on, then we go. Want to jump to the door or march like a robot?” Two simple choices, same limit.

Consistency today prevents “intermittent reinforcement” (a sometimes win that keeps protests alive) from setting up shop in your house.

4. Skipping the basics: food, sleep, and transitions

Most volcanic moments in our home have three culprits: late nap, empty snack bin, abrupt transitions. I used to assume “they’ll be fine.” Then I’d be googling “how to remove applesauce from car seat straps” at 8 p.m.

Quick swap: Treat the basics like a project plan.

• Fuel: I batch snacks into grab-and-go bins on Sundays (fruit, cheese sticks, crackers). One bin lives by the door for stroller loops between meetings.

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• Sleep: Guard rest windows like meetings you can’t move.

• Transitions: Narrate change: “Two more minutes, then we head to the car.” Use a visual timer or a song that reliably ends (“clean-up, clean-up…” works surprisingly well).

5. Forgetting connection before correction

When I go straight to “No more throwing blocks,” I sometimes miss the tiny “help me” under the shout.

As child psychologist Ross Greene has said, “Kids do well if they can”—if they could meet the expectation in that moment, they would. The skill gap (not defiance) is often the issue.

Quick swap: Connect first, then guide. “You’re mad we had to leave the park. I get it.” Pause. “We’re going home now. Want to race to the gate or hop like bunnies?”

That micro-dose of empathy keeps the boundary intact while giving the nervous system something safe to hold.

6. Threatening consequences you can’t (or don’t want to) keep

“I’ll throw all your toys away!” said past me, glaring at a pile of blocks at bedtime. Empty threats buy a second of quiet and a whole day of backpedaling.

Quick swap: Pre-decide one logical, doable outcome.

• If the screaming continues at the table: “Sounds like your body needs a reset. We’ll take a two-minute cozy-corner break and try again.”

• If the toy becomes a projectile: “That toy’s not safe right now; it’s taking a rest on the shelf.”
  Be boring, consistent, and brief. No lectures; the follow-through is the message.

7. Trying to teach during the storm instead of after

I love a tidy debrief, but the middle of a meltdown isn’t a teachable moment—it’s a co-regulation moment. When I started saving “next time, use words” for later, the lessons started sticking.

Quick swap: During: stay close, keep words sparse, keep everyone safe. After: use a mini “repair script”—

• Name: “That was a big mad.”

• Normalize: “Everyone has big feelings.”

• Plan: “Next time, you can stomp feet on the mat or say ‘help.’ Let’s practice.”
  Two minutes, tops. We’ll sometimes practice with stuffed animals; Greta writes “store signs” for the coping corner, because of course she does.

8. Missing the early warning signs

Tantrums rarely pop out of nowhere.

In our house, warning lights include: Emil abandoning a favorite car, bumping into things, or hunting for sugar. If I ignore the early cues, we end up in the big show.

Quick swap: Run a simple pre-meltdown checklist:
MOVE (can we reset with a 3-minute dance party?), MUNCH (offer that protein snack), MESSAGE (give a clear “what’s next” with a timer).

I keep one calm-down basket per floor: squishy ball, picture book, chew necklace, and a silicone bubble popper. We rotate items monthly so it feels “new.”

9. Expecting one strategy to work everywhere, every time

I adore systems, but kids are…people. What worked at home might flop in the checkout line. The mistake is clinging to a single script instead of matching the tool to the context.

Quick swap: Build a tiny “tantrum toolkit” and pick 1–2 moves based on where you are:

• Public place: “Out and over” (out of the aisle, over to a quiet corner). Then mirror one feeling word: “Overwhelmed.” Hold boundary: “We’re not opening snacks yet.”

• Car seat: Safety first. I keep a spare “car book” and a slow, familiar playlist. If the cry escalates, I pull into a safe spot to co-regulate rather than trying to reason at red lights.

• Home: Use play to exit the power struggle. “Can the shoes chase your feet?” It’s goofy, but movement zig-zags emotion back into neutral.

The quick swaps, summarized (so you can screenshot)

• Calm your body first. Your nervous system is the thermostat. 

• Fewer words, more presence. Label the feeling (“name it to tame it”) before problem-solving. 

• Hold the boundary; offer two choices. Skip mid-scream bargains.

• Protect sleep, snacks, and transitions. Prep bins, timers, and five-minute warnings.

• Connection before correction. Remember: “Kids do well if they can.”

• Use only consequences you can keep. Make them logical and boring.

• Teach after, not during. Quick repair script: name, normalize, plan.

• Watch the early signs. Move, munch, message.

• Match the tool to the place. Build a flexible mini-toolkit.

A few real-life examples from our week

• The grocery wobble: Emil spotted dinosaur gummies. I mirrored: “You really want them.” Pause. “We’re buying fruit today. Do you want to carry the bananas or push the little cart?” He picked cart. We left with bananas and, yes, a victory dance in the parking lot.

• The bedtime slide: Greta melted down over the wrong pajama top (tags are a whole thing). Instead of explaining fabric content, I offered one sensory swap: “Comfy tagless or nightgown?” She chose nightgown, then proudly labeled it “my cozy uniform” with a handwritten sign for her drawer.

• The playdate exit: Two-minute warning, visual timer, then shoes by the door. When the timer beeped and the wail started, I moved close: “Saying bye is hard.” We did a “doorway race” to the sidewalk. Connection, then follow-through.

Why these swaps work (and hold up on the rough days)

Tantrums tend to shrink when kids (1) feel seen, (2) know what’s next, and (3) trust that grownups can handle big feelings without exploding or buying them off.

That’s the heart of co-regulation.

It’s also aligned with what pediatric experts recommend: normalize the behavior, stay calm, and guide with simple, consistent limits.

And as noted by Dr. Dan Siegel, giving a feeling a name helps the brain move from overwhelm to order.

Finally, this is backed by experts like Dr. Ross Greene, who has said that most challenging behavior reflects lagging skills and unsolved problems, not a lack of will. 

None of this requires perfection. Around here, screen time is a tool with clear boundaries, the stroller is my sanity saver between meetings, and snack bins are the real MVPs.

The goal isn’t zero tears; it’s a rhythm that holds when life gets loud—weekday routines that repeat, simple choices kids can handle, and a calm-down plan everyone knows by heart.

If today ended with pajamas on backwards and dishes soaking till morning, you’re still doing it right. Tomorrow, try one swap. Then another. Bit by bit, you’ll feel the temperature drop in your home—and you’ll raise kids who trust that big feelings are safe to have and possible to handle.

You’ve got this.

And if your next meltdown happens in the cereal aisle, I’ll be the mom making eye contact and mouthing, “Same.”