In 2017, during my first stint in the Pacific Northwest, we experienced what was then a historic winter weather event. Our city was not equipped to handle even a moderate amount of snow, and things were shut down for almost a full week. During this glorious pre-kids and pre-WFH era, an adult snow week was awesome. No morning alarms. No commute. No worries. Just a winter wonderland staycation.
In 2024, during another historic winter weather event, I am ready to blowtorch every inch of pavement within a 100-mile radius if that’s what it takes to earn even five minutes of alone time.
We were extremely fortunate to emerge from this weekend’s weather without any scars. Our neighborhood was one of the lucky few to maintain power, so we feel unbelievably lucky to have been able to ride it out at home. However, the cabin fever is real, and we’re all on the verge of leaving the family and walking out into the frozen tundra to live with the wolves.
The irony of this specific post is that, despite pushing me to the brink, this might have been the best weekend we’ve ever had in terms of meltdown density. There were some minor snow-induced spills and freakouts around exposed hands despite violently refusing to put on gloves, but it was a tame three-day (now four-day) stretch, all things considered.
Still, when it comes to life as a parent, only three things are certain: death, taxes, and meltdowns. Like the kids who have them, some tantrums are more intense than others, but they are as inevitable as the setting sun. You can do everything in your power to avoid them. You can be the gentlest parent in the world. You can set your children up for success in every way possible. And they’ll still emerge from the depths of hell when you least expect them, at only the most inconvenient moments in your already incredibly disrupted life.
I think of myself as a bit of a meltdown connoisseur. Parents know their kids better than their kids know themselves, but I like to believe I have a unique ability to sense an incoming meltdown in its earliest stages. A unique facial expression. A barely discernible change in tone. A subtle shift in the environment to create the perfect conditions for a tantrum tornado.
For this “please release me from my ice-crusted winter prison” installment of Father Times, here is my take on meltdowns, ranked.
5. Bedtime Meltdown
This one makes the list because it starts when they’re barely sentient and only gets worse over time. The bedtime meltdown is unique in that the solution to the problem is simply to go the fuck to bed, but every attempt to get them to sleep is met with extreme dissent. At my current age, I would pay someone an exorbitant amount of money to put me down to sleep every night at 7pm and leave me completely undisturbed for 12 to 13 hours. There is truly nothing I would like more in the entire world.
Instead, my kids act like they’re being involuntarily committed into a holding cell for the rest of their lives. The bedtime meltdown is also often disguised as a last burst of chaotic silliness or adorable affection that breaks when their little brains decide that they are now tired and becomes full-fledged screaming. Even the baby sometimes lulls me into a false sense of security where things seem to be moving in a positive direction only to become nuclear the second her body touches the mattress.
There are two silver linings with the bedtime meltdown: 1) it occurs in the privacy of your own home, giving you the distinguished pleasure of being the only person to be bothered by it and 2) your sliver of nighttime kidless freedom is waiting for you on the other side.
4. Putting on Clothes Meltdown
A distant cousin of the bedtime meltdown, the putting on clothes meltdown – specifically when it involves pajamas or any form of heavy outdoor gear (e.g. snowsuit) – takes the volume up a few notches because you’re at risk of physical harm.
The way to protest against getting dressed in any capacity is to violently thrash around like an animal trying to escape the jaws of a predator. One of my tricks at night was to let her hold a book while she sat in my lap and I got her dressed. Then she learned how to reverse head butt me and the action returned to the floor.
Do not get me started on gearing up in any sort of bulky or stiff apparel. The temperature was in the teens this weekend and we had a perfect snowsuit for the occasion. She and I were just ready to embrace hypothermia after the third installment of putting on her suit, hat, and mittens.
Our dog Zoe is 16lbs and looks like the perfect animal to calmly lay in a travel carrier and fly across the world. Zoe has never been in an airplane because we have never been able to get her into the travel carrier. I say all of that to say that trying to get the toddler in her snowsuit is like trying to get Zoe into her travel carrier. In both cases, I’m better off just leaving them at home.
3. “I don’t want to walk anymore” Meltdown
Forever underrated, the “I don’t want to walk anymore” meltdown is less common than the others but never comes when you’re close to your home. To elicit it, simply hike down to the bottom of a ravine or agree with your kid not to bring a stroller on a decently far walk.
Last weekend, the toddler finally let me take her sledding. The problem with sledding is that you go downhill. She wasn’t about to walk back up in her rigid ass snowsuit, so I turned into her personal ski lift any time she wanted to traverse the neighborhood.
There is nothing heavier than a toddler. Add distance and/or incline, and it feels like you’re competing in an Ironman. Sprinkle in a meltdown, and you yourself may never want to walk again.
2. Mid-Shopping Meltdown
Now we’ve entered the upper tier of the meltdown rankings: public meltdowns. One of the things you quickly learn with kids is that shopping for most things is a good activity because you need to do it anyway and there’s enough visual stimulation to keep them occupied for most of it. Grocery shopping is genuinely in the upper quartile of ways to waste time with children, at least while they still tolerate sitting in the cart.
However, there is nothing like being halfway through your mission and denying a toddler the ability to put an unwashed avocado in their mouth or to open a container of raw chicken, only to have them completely lose it in the middle of the store. In that moment, you are left with two choices: you fight your way through it to the detriment of everybody around you or you abandon ship, place them in a football carry, and dip out to the parking lot in hopes of a relatively quick cooldown.
I think I’ve only encountered this meltdown twice. In both cases, I went for Option 2 because I was not in an emergency shopping situation. Given the flexibility, I felt it was only right to spare the other shoppers and finish the mission when the storm had blown over.
This is unfortunately not a luxury that is afforded to you during a…
1. Plane Meltdown
The holy grail of meltdowns.
I try really hard to avoid the “you don’t understand if you’re not a parent” bit because that is usually not true. But when it comes to a screaming kid on a plane, it is really hard to empathize with the parents unless you’ve been there before.
Prior to kids, I think I was pretty understanding. I never wanted to be bothered by a meltdown while I was flying back home after a weekend away. I might sigh a little if it persisted, but I always assumed the parent(s) were doing their best to mitigate the situation.
Let me tell you something. Being locked into a metal tube 30,000 feet in the air with your inconsolable child is one of the most humbling and agonizing experiences you can have as a human. There’s nowhere to go but up and down the aisles as you spread the crying around the plane like an infectious disease. There aren’t enough pretzels or biscottis or milk cartons in the world to stop this runaway train. Ms. Rachel ain’t coming out of that cockpit to hold your kid and sing to them about shapes for the next 3.5 hours.
When your kid is out of their rhythm and in a foreign object that limits their movement, sometimes the best you can do is to do your best. Just be prepared to avoid eye contact with 150+ of your fellow passengers when you finally land.
"However, the cabin fever is real, and we’re all on the verge of leaving the family and walking out into the frozen tundra to live with the wolves."
this guy gets it
Wish me luck sir. About to fly next week.