Smiling through some one else's toddler tantrum

Being a good boy, taking care of his cousin

I spend my days chasing little kids, who lets face it, are a tad ungrateful and sometimes don't have much consideration for my feelings. My son is almost 2, and he is a big kid, very tall and strong. I go to bed with back pain, and my arms hurt from lifting and carrying him around throughout the day.
He is not sleeping well, and this has turned his baby fits into epic spasms of wiggling, and arms flailing where he unknowingly (perhaps, slightly knowingly) throws his arms into my face. The short of it is, it's parent abuse.
I am not such a sucker that I take it, I have to put him in time out. I understand he is in a state of hysteria, and since I consider him to be a sweet natured person normally, I don't chuck him across the room like the fucking she-hulk.
I bring him to his crib, so he can cry himself tired. It is the safest thing to do because holding him is allowing him to physically beat on me, and he is so strong that he could wiggle free, falling to the ground.
It is a phase, and luckily everyone I complain to is quick to remind me it's a phase. They shake their head knowingly, and utter, "It's the beginning of his terrible twos."
I don't like how these fits make me think of him, as a whiney bratty child. The more these tantrums come, the more I am growing a distaste for 2 year olds. When he is not going ballistic, which is the majority of the time, he is the picture of perfection. So during his fits, I swing from idyllic bliss to questioning the purpose of procreating.
I take a deep breath through the stress his tantrums bring on to everyone. I advise my daughter to do the same when she becomes distraught over something as little as syrup being poured on her pancake. She grits her teeth, gets a cold stare, and turns red, saying in escalating volume, "I don't like syrup!"
I say, "Breath deep, and relax, it is just syrup," as I remove the drip with a sweep of my thumb.
Aside from George's Mr. Hyde moments, we are having a great time. Today we met up with my cousin at a park downtown. As we were parting ways, the kids were getting tired, and her son threw a grade A fit. He was hungry and after he got a snack he calmed down.
Watching him go ape shit because he had an empty belly was a relief to see, a good reminder that all little kids act like little assholes sometimes, and when they aren't sleeping right or eating on schedule, they tend to let the tantrum go from bad to good-freaking-god-awful in a matter of seconds. I have to give George some space to act deranged and not assume he needs to be shipped off to toddler reform school.
After my nephew was calm and they were waving good bye, my cousin said, "Oh gosh, I hope we weren't getting the stare down from other parents."
And, like I were giving myself a pep talk in the mirror, I said what I need to tell myself when George goes fucking nuts, "No one cares! Any parent understands. Even the most perfect kid in the world acts that way."