Here’s the deal, I yell at my kids. I do.
There. I said it. Let all the Judgy Karens grab their torches and pitchforks and press the last number to CPS on their desk phone in HR because clearly I’m the worst parent ever.
Look, I’ve written about coming from a yelling family.
I’ve talked openly about how frustrating motherhood can be. I mince no words about the level of exhaustion that accompanies extreme parenting. I even wrote a piece about being a recovering yelling mom.
But here’s the thing you guys.
People have lost their minds.
We are living in a world with no paid maternity leave, working for less money and less gratitude than ever, for bosses who undervalue us.
We are raising kids in a place with school shootings and cyber bullying and where the PTA expects you to hand-make holiday themed threats that are gluten free, dairy free, nut free, but taste delicious all while raising money for their walkathon.
We have marriage stress and financial strain. Our heads hurt and our toes haven’t seen the inside of a pedicure since our wedding.
Y’all it’s tough on the front lines of parenthood and sometimes I freaking snap.
Yep. I lose it.
Now, before you log this away to use against me when I have audiences in the hundreds of thousands coming to hear me speak about extreme parenting (cause THAT’S happening–can I get an Amen!), let me be clear:
I do not abuse my kids nor do I yell at them unprovoked.
This isn’t Jerry Springer, just a regular amount of middle-class mom losing her actual mind over cold coffee and the Target Dollar Spot.
My kids are natural born jackwagons–they get it from both myself and my husband.
They speak fluent sarcasm, they quote inappropriately timed movie lines, and they will use our own words against us 100% of the time. So, what I’m saying is, they brought this on!
I can go middle-aged to grade school petty in a hot minute when my kids push me too far.
“Mommy, I’m never talking to you EVER again!”
Me: “PROVE IT!”
Spoiler alert: Neither child has ever followed through.
I WANT to love my kids all the time and bake them cookies and wake them up with a smooch and a smile.
But I was likely awake half the night with at least one of them sleeping on top of me and randomly mule kicking me in their REM cycle, so if I can make it to the coffee pot in the wee hours without going zero to 100, I feel like a ‘thank you’ is in order.
I was told that only other people’s kids were annoying and, “it will be different when you have your own”.
Well thanks, Susan, but it’s the EXACT SAME! They ask eleventy questions IN. A. ROW. and then don’t even listen to my answer!! If you can live that life and never raise your voice, well praise be, but I’m not the one!!
So, let’s just be really honest with each other, shall we? I mean, we’re friends, right?
I do my absolute freaking best for my kids. I do.
But sometimes…like at least twice a day… I just lose myself.
I’m sure there have been times where I sounded scary to them or where they assumed I was certifiable.
I’m certain I should start squirreling away money for both a college AND a therapist for them one day.
I am just being painfully transparent here because I really believe that I can’t be the only one. No way.
So yes, I yell. But I also apologize.
I explain what happened when I lost it.
I allow room for them to see that I’m human and that I fail.
And I pray that their ability to see me for who I really am will allow them to feel comfortable in their own skin when they think they might lose it too.
Here's the deal, I yell at my kids. I do. There. I said it. Let all the Judgy Karens grab their torches and pitchforks…