Yelling At Children: What I Learned After I Quit!
We don’t do this because we’re tired of it, but because the endless chores in addition to motherhood make us so tired and take their toll. Still, I made it: I’ll never yell at my children again and I’ve learned a lot.
Shouting at children – it doesn’t have to be!
They say motherhood is a difficult task and it is true! But it can also be the most beautiful gift in the world!
Sometimes we aim too high for ourselves. We want perfect children, who never get loud or dirty, who are calm and who greet us with a kiss.
They should have good grades, tidy their room, read books at the age of 6, keep their hair tidy, never lose their toys and do their homework independently … But yelling at children – that doesn’t help with any of these things!
We want the kind of kids who only exist in magazines!
What I learned after stopping yelling at my kids:
Perfect is the enemy of good.
When I stopped yelling at my kids, I realized that I don’t have to be a perfect mother because I am not in a daily competition where I have to prove something to anyone.
I understood that my children prefer it when I’m not perfect and when I don’t plan everything, but can be more spontaneous and happy.
Maybe it makes me more human, happier and more relaxed when I put my laundry together tomorrow and wash the dishes another time. And that in turn makes me a better mother.
My house may not look like a glossy magazine, but my kids’ laughter does, and that’s because I don’t yell at them anymore.
I don’t have perfect children and I don’t want them either.
My children are perfectly imperfect. They are real children: they spill juice, don’t want to bathe, complain about tidying up their rooms, don’t like vegetables and always want new toys … and how could it be otherwise !? After all, they are children!
I love them for who they are, a whirlwind of laughter and sappy kisses, sometimes careless because they are spontaneous, sometimes grumpy because they have their own point of view and sometimes moody because they just want to be happy.
That’s what my kids are: perfectly imperfect.
I am the mother their children need. And they don’t need a mother to scream.
Even before they came into my life, I had ideas about how I wanted to raise my children. When they were out, I planned exactly what I would do in which situation. I didn’t want to be an unprepared mother. And I didn’t want to be a mother yelling at her children.
I imagined how I would teach them to pray and have good table manners. I would never give them junk food. I would show them how to be brave, independent, and generous.
In short: I made plans with people I didn’t even know – a big mistake!
Then I realized that I have to be the mother each of them needs and not who I planned to be. That means being strict sometimes, then warm again, sometimes protective and sometimes encouraging.
Because every child needs me in their own way, because each of them is their own.
The opinion of others does not count.
I have very good friends with whom I can talk openly about my upbringing difficulties and whom I also listen to.
We laugh and worry together. We solve problems together and warn each other of what’s coming. After the father of my children, they are my allies.
I have also learned that some words and looks are unnecessary, namely those of wrong people who fake perfection just for the sake of appearance.
I am now indifferent to their opinion and advice. I think these people just need me to show off to someone.
I learned to motivate myself. Shouting at children without children.
One of the many things my kids have taught me is to keep going at the very moment when I feel exhausted. That’s right, they taught me how to drive myself and how to be a better person. Through them I learn to forgive myself with steadfast belief in the next possibility.
They showed me that I am strong and persistent, and much more than I thought. They taught me to focus on the goal, not the obstacles, and I can do that without yelling at them.
Compared to before she was born, I really am a better version of myself today. You made me reinvent myself and get better.
Maybe my body and my dark circles say something different and I won’t even mention my fingernails!
I’m not saying I don’t miss how I looked before them, but I wouldn’t trade that career for anything in the world.
Every day I wake up wanting to be a good mother to them and incredibly strong to give them the mother they need individually and not to satisfy my ego.
To be honest, I don’t go to bed every night and I’m completely satisfied with myself. Sometimes it is and sometimes it is not. Sometimes I go to bed feeling like I owe you a better day with more hugs and maybe more patience.
On such days, more than on others, I go to sleep with the determination that tomorrow is a new day and I have the chance to shape it in such a way that I don’t feel the impulse to have to yell at my children.
