My Hot Take on Parenting: I Actually Embrace Tantrums

After 14 years of parenting three children, hundreds of hours of coaching parents, and reading more parenting books than I can count, I have a parenting opinion that sometimes surprises people:

I don't see tantrums as a parenting failure.

In fact, I see them as a normal, healthy, necessary part of child development.

Now, that doesn't mean I enjoy tantrums. I still get triggered sometimes. I still have moments when I'm tired, overstimulated, and wishing everyone would just calm down. But one of the biggest shifts I've experienced as both a parent and a coach has been changing how I think about emotional outbursts.

I no longer see them as evidence that something has gone terribly wrong.

I see them as part of the process.

Just like gravity is part of living on Earth, big emotions are part of being human.

Children aren't born knowing how to handle disappointment, frustration, jealousy, fear, embarrassment, grief, or anger. They have to learn. And learning often looks messy.

Sometimes it looks like crying because it's time to leave the playground.

Sometimes it looks like yelling because a sibling touched their toy.

Sometimes it looks like collapsing into a puddle of tears because the blue cup is in the dishwasher.

From the outside, these moments can seem irrational. But from a child's perspective, the feelings are very real.

And these emotional storms are how they practice.

They are practicing feeling emotions.

They are practicing expressing emotions.

They are practicing releasing emotions.

Eventually, with enough support and guidance, they learn that emotions rise and fall. They learn that feelings are temporary. They learn that they can survive disappointment without falling apart.

But they don't learn those lessons because the emotions never happen.

They learn them by living through the emotions.

One of my daughters has always had a strong personality. When she was younger, she could cry with impressive determination if she didn't get what she wanted. Sometimes she wanted to keep playing instead of coming to dinner. Sometimes she wanted a different answer than the one I gave.

In those moments, I stopped viewing her tears as a problem that needed to be fixed.

Instead, I started seeing them as information.

She wanted something.

She wasn't getting it.

She was disappointed.

That's a very human experience.

My job wasn't to eliminate her disappointment.

My job was to help her move through it.

So I would calmly say something like:

"I know you want to keep playing. It's time for dinner. You can play again afterward."

If she cried, she cried.

If she was upset, she was upset.

The boundary stayed the same.

The love stayed the same too.

That's an important distinction.

Many parents worry that validating feelings means giving in.

It doesn't.

You can hold a boundary and hold compassion at the same time.

You can say no while staying loving.

You can allow feelings without allowing harmful behavior.

Children need both.

What transformed these moments for me wasn't just learning parenting strategies.

It was learning emotional regulation myself.

Because the truth is that a child's tantrum is often easier to handle than the emotions it triggers inside of us.

The fear.

The embarrassment.

The frustration.

The self-doubt.

The stories that whisper:

"They're never going to learn."

"People are judging me."

"I'm failing as a parent."

Learning grounding techniques changed everything for me.

Sometimes I take slow breaths.

Sometimes I count in my head.

Sometimes I step into the kitchen for a moment while staying nearby.

Sometimes I remind myself:

"She's having a hard time. She's not giving me a hard time."

The calmer I become, the easier it is for me to help my child become calm.

Children borrow our nervous systems before they fully develop their own.

They learn emotional regulation by experiencing ours.

When we stay calm, they learn that emotions are not dangerous.

When we stay connected, they learn that relationships can survive hard moments.

When we repair after conflict, they learn that mistakes don't end connection.

And when we stop treating emotions as the enemy, they learn that all feelings are welcome—even when not all behaviors are.

This doesn't mean parenting becomes easy.

It means parenting becomes more intentional.

Instead of asking, "How do I stop the tantrum?"

I find it more helpful to ask:

"How can I help my child move through this experience safely?"

That simple shift changes everything.

The tantrum becomes less about control and more about teaching.

Less about punishment and more about connection.

Less about fear and more about trust.

My children still have big emotions sometimes.

I still get triggered sometimes.

But now I know that these moments are not evidence that parenting is broken.

They are opportunities to practice the skills that matter most:

Emotional regulation.

Boundaries.

Compassion.

Connection.

Repair.

And those are skills that will serve our children for the rest of their lives.