Temper

For me, to say that one ‘loses their temper’ is a misnomer. In fact, what is much more accurate, albeit a subtle difference, is that you FIND it. Tucked deep away under the multiple layers of socialization and discipline, it is rare to find a situation where this emotion emerges without some degree of associated damage that you later feel terrible about—an unwelcome visitor, the vestige of some unresolved issues, and ripe for armchair psychoanalysis. As someone who has a closer relationship with their temper than most (read: I certainly haven’t lost it, as I know exactly where it is), one aspect of my parenting has been to try and demonstrate to Kaia a more calm and peaceful way to approach problems and situations. As many parents know, children learn so much from just watching you behave. Sure words matter, but young kids really get the adage, “I judge not by what you say, but by what you do”. For me, one of my fears is that Kaia will find that his temper is often close at hand as well.

Part of what substantiates my belief that this is a behavior that is learned at a young age, from watching close adults, is that my parents are very level-headed and calm people. If you were to fill football stadium seats with descriptive words and phrases about both of them, anger and temper would be sitting in the upper loge alongside Bob Uecker. But, if you look at my grandparents, especially my grandmother, there you can find the dictionary entry for temper—and someone who can re-find (and unload it) at any time. I suppose that, since I spent a great deal of my formative youth at their home while my mom finished school and my dad worked, that I picked up a few skills in irrational behavior and illogical frustration. Such is the supple mind of youth.

Over time, of course, like any good subject ruled by the panopticon, my temper made like Smeagol and ran from the light of good behavior, driven down into the bowels of a forgotten land. Of course, from time to time it would emerge, fed by impatience and lack of sleep, but for the most part it was controlled and in its place. That is, until I came here and, like Bilbo Baggins, something in the cultural winds has blown the tempers’ core out of hiding. It has been refound.

The incident that catalyzed the re-emergence was the culmination of a series of frustrating episodes that were lathered up from a 100 degree heat. Kaia has never been able to nap without being carried or driven in a car and, because our ‘new’ car (notable for its selling feature of being ‘good at dodging cows’) decided to crap out a few weeks ago, this has meant that, around 130-200pm every day, I have to carry him around outside for 15-30 minutes to get him to go down. Not so bad if you’re living in Seattle, where you can enjoy the gentle breeze and 75 degree temperature, but here, where the 100+ degree heat and 80% humidity beat and squeeze you of all energy, there is little to be enjoyed. This particular day I had also been attending to a few different domestic repairs, which in this country are not a simple, nor peaceful event.

From the gas repairman who used our kitchen scissors to cut and refix the gas cable, to the mechanic who wanted to drive across town to get a Phillips-head screwdriver, to the plumber who shorted out the electricity repairing the watertank, I have come to learn a few truisms about home maintenance here: One, there is no such thing as a simple repair—I’ll repeat that again—there is NO SUCH THING AS A SIMPLE REPAIR. By this, I mean that what should take 5 minutes, might take 3 days because they forgot to bring the right parts, if any at all—that is, if they decide to show up at all. Number two, often fixing one problem creates two more—take for example the aforementioned water tank repair, which led to a shorting out of the electricity AND a hole in the door from when they removed the false ceiling to get to the tank. Number three, expect a lot of people. When I saw the electrician(s), plumbers and AC people come on the same day, and it started looking like a tea shop inside the flat, all I could think was that there was some joke about ‘how many Indians does it take to change a lightblub’ in there…

But back to the situation, the entire morning had been dealing with home repair and the car had just broken down for unknown reasons. It was hot and humid and Kaia was fussy. It was the perfect storm. All that was needed was the nudge over the tipping point.

The unwitting victim of my avalanche of temper (which is really just a conduit to anger, isn’t it?) was the driver of a compact Tata Indica car. Kaia and I were walking (I was carrying him) on the side of this very (relatively) slow street. We walked by the black car and just after we passed, I felt the bumper butt up against my left leg, causing it to buckle. It was hardly a strong impact, but enough to throw me off balance and put a minor scare into Kaia. This was the second time that I had been hit by a wayward driver (the first was a motorbike where Kaia and I were the only other people on the road), and I told myself after the first one (because I was a bit shocked at what had happened) that, if it happened again, I would be sure to let the other party know how I felt. Safe to say, it was a temper explosion.

I have never gotten that upset and started screaming at someone like I did with that person. I was yelling at him and swearing in, of course, a language that he could not understand, but I am quite certain that he felt my wrath. I slammed my hand down on the hood of his car and kept pointing at Kaia to say that I was holding a small child. To his credit he was trying to apologize, but after I slammed my hand on the car, he too got a little upset. Yet, this just made me more mad. I was not aware that I could elevate my voice and get so angry, but the fact that it put Kaia in danger pushed me to unfamiliar territory. I don’t know if it was some deep-seated, primal instinct but whatever it was, this guy felt the full brunt of it.

I continued walking, and Kaia eventually went to sleep, but there were two things that stayed with me beyond the event. The first was that how I did not regret, in any way, what I had done, or how I treated this other person. I was talking to a friend the other day about this, and I explained it as being a clear line in my mind that was crossed and that, being a parent, has really defined where these lines are. To not feel regret is to know that they do exist. The other thing was that Kaia had been there to witness the entire spectacle and, surprisingly, he did not start crying or get upset, when he most certainly knew that I was. I have no idea about what must have been going on in his head, but this definitely was papa ‘losing his temper’. Of course, in 99 out of 100 times, reacting the same way would result in more problematic consequences, and I do not/did not want to show him that this kind of behavior is normal or even acceptable. But this is a true challenge as I encounter these moments when I find my temper. How to best respond and parent at the same time? Maybe in the same way that this place has led me to re-find this temper, it will eventually lead me to a state where there is nothing left to find. Such would be par for the course in India.

Why I Love this Time: Unprovoked, big, wet kisses.