Parenting is a beautiful, challenging, and deeply humbling journey. Some days feel like a harmonious melody, while others resemble a thunderstorm raging through the house. For me, the storms come in the form of my older boy’s loud, violent, and lengthy tantrums. They are unpredictable, overwhelming, and exhausting—but they have also taught me lessons about love, patience, and faith that I never expected to learn.

The Spark that Lights the Fire

My son is brilliant—truly brilliant. His mind is sharp, his curiosity endless, and his energy uncontainable. But with that incredible spark comes a deep sensitivity. He feels everything intensely, and that sensitivity often becomes the tinder for his tantrums.

It usually begins with a “no.” Not just any “no”—but the kind that comes with correction, like when I have to say no to a treat because of bad behavior. For him, it’s not just about the lollipop he didn’t get; it’s about why he didn’t get it. My words seem to pierce his heart, making him feel vulnerable and ashamed.

What starts as a tearful objection quickly escalates. Within moments, he’s throwing himself on the floor, screaming, hitting, crying until his face is red, and shouting the same sentence over and over again. These episodes can last anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour, and they feel like they will never end.

A Parent’s Helplessness

The hardest part is knowing that nothing I say or do seems to calm him. Logic doesn’t work. Offering comfort or distraction doesn’t work. In those moments, I feel utterly powerless. All I can do is stay by his side, present and loving, while he rides the emotional wave.

I whisper prayers in my heart as I sit there with him. I pray for wisdom to know how to help him. I pray for peace to calm my own heart. And I pray for him—that he will feel my love and, even more importantly, God’s love, surrounding him in his vulnerability.

Choosing Love

Through it all, I’ve learned that my response matters just as much as his tantrum. His little brother is watching, absorbing every interaction, and my older son is also watching, even in the midst of his storm. What they see in me—the way I handle frustration, the way I respond to their emotions—shapes their understanding of love, discipline, and grace.

It’s not easy to stay calm. There are moments when I want to cry, scream, or walk away. But I know that my job is to be a steady anchor in his chaos. I remind myself that his big feelings are not an attack on me; they’re a cry for help.

So I stay. I hold space for him, even when he’s inconsolable. I offer kindness, understanding, and reassurance, even when he doesn’t seem to want it. And when the storm finally subsides—when the tears dry and his breathing slows—I’m there to hold him close, reminding him that he is loved, no matter what.

Faith as My Cornerstone

In these moments, I cling to my faith. Ephesians 2:20-22 speaks of Christ as our cornerstone, and that image is so powerful for me as a mother. My cornerstone must be solid because I’m building more than just a family; I’m building little hearts and minds.

When the tantrums shake me, I lean on Jesus, the unshakable foundation of my life. He reminds me that my son is fearfully and wonderfully made, even when his emotions feel overwhelming. He reminds me to approach parenting with humility and grace, knowing that I am not perfect but that His strength is made perfect in my weakness.

What the Tantrums Teach Me

While I wish I could make the tantrums stop, I also see them as opportunities for growth—for both my son and me. They teach me to slow down, to listen, and to love unconditionally. They remind me to look beyond the surface behavior and see the tender heart underneath.

And for my son, I hope these moments teach him that it’s okay to feel deeply, to express his emotions, and to know that no matter how big his feelings get, his mama will always be there, just as God is always there for us.

Walking Through the Storm Together

Parenting isn’t about avoiding the storms; it’s about walking through them with grace and faith. Some days, that means sitting on the floor with a screaming child and praying for strength. Other days, it means celebrating small victories, like a tantrum that ends with a hug instead of exhaustion.

Through it all, I’m learning to trust the process, trust my instincts, and trust God’s plan for my family. Because even in the loudest, messiest, most chaotic moments, His love is the anchor that keeps us steady.

To every parent weathering their own storms, remember this: You are not alone. And neither is your child.