Around two years ago, I made the decision to stop raising my voice at my children. My previous parenting philosophy revolved around the belief that, “If you’re not raising your voice, you’re not spending enough time with them.” This mindset seemed to work well for me; I often felt justified in shouting at their seemingly innocent faces because, frankly, they were quite challenging, and I was usually the one managing it all.
However, one day, I abruptly decided to quit—no gradual reduction, just a complete halt. I let go of my frustrations and embraced a more peaceful approach. The atmosphere in our home transformed for the better. I was happier, and so were my children. My new strategy of not yelling became a hallmark of my parenting style. I would make my requests calmly, and by the third time, I would say, “Did you notice the change in my tone? That’s what it sounds like right before I raise my voice,” prompting them to act. It worked every time; they would respond promptly.
Before long, my warnings became unnecessary. The children fell into line, completing tasks like tidying their lunch bags and brushing their teeth without needing to be reminded a third time. We resembled a perfectly harmonious family from the 1950s—minus the poodle skirts and ribbons in my hair.
Yet, I can’t claim that I didn’t have my moments. Although I maintained composure outwardly, internally, I’d find myself yelling at them in my mind, often expressing frustration with an exasperated eye roll. Fortunately, I directed my frustrations towards my spouse, as they were my designated outlet.
Fast forward two years, and we now have two teenagers in the house. The situation has dramatically changed. I might feel the urge to yell, but what would be the point? They simply don’t respond to volume, tension, or pitch anymore. They’ve become accustomed to my calm approach and are, frankly, taking advantage of it. What went wrong? I once had a dream scenario: I was an award-winning mother with a tranquil home. My fellow moms envied my peaceful household, and I even had “Oh Silent House” printed on our holiday cards. What changed?
Hormones.
Teenagers require a specific type of parenting approach—yelling isn’t effective. The voice needed is akin to the one you’d use when cautiously approaching a sleeping tiger or a scorpion resting on your partner’s face as they nap. It’s a delicate, strategic voice that only parents of teens can master.
My teens, however, have no qualms about raising their voices at me. They skip the polite warnings I extended to them and instead erupt like a kettle boiling over or a toddler having a meltdown mid-flight.
Rather than teaching my children through my calm demeanor, I inadvertently untrained myself. Now, I find myself ill-equipped to deal with the volume of their voices. My once ideal household has turned chaotic, and nothing can rival the wrath of a scorned teenager.
Let this serve as a cautionary tale for parents aiming to abandon yelling. It’s a grave error that you will likely regret when your teenager raises their voice, leaving you without the tools to respond effectively. Remember the saying, “If you’re not yelling at your kids, you’re not spending enough time with them.” So, invest more time with your little ones. Raise those voices, and take pride in it; you’re preparing them for their teenage years and doing an admirable job.
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Summary:
This article discusses the author’s experience of transitioning from a yelling parent to a calmer one, only to find that her approach was ineffective with her teenagers. While initially successful in establishing a peaceful home, she warns other parents of the potential pitfalls of abandoning yelling entirely.