My partner and I have an ongoing debate. Actually, we have several, including one about whether the movie Moulin Rouge! deserves its acclaim (spoiler: it doesn’t). But today, let’s focus on our parenting styles.
She believes I raise my voice too often. And while I’d love to argue otherwise, I can’t deny there’s some truth to it. Lately, I’ve been raising my voice more than I’d like to admit.
My eldest child just turned 6, and let’s just say he’s a handful—much more so than the delightful little angel he was at ages 2, 3, 4, and 5. It doesn’t help that he has a newly mobile baby brother who’s teething, going through the infamous 9-month sleep regression, and seems determined to bump his head on every sharp corner in the house, munch on stray Lego pieces, and get his fingers caught in every door. Managing both of them at once often pushes me past my limit. As a result, I’m frequently stressed, my nerves are frayed, and my patience has evaporated.
So instead of embodying the calm and collected father I aspire to be, I find myself yelling—quickly, often, and usually over trivial matters. I’m perpetually simmering. It creates a tense atmosphere at home. Every time my son talks back, throws a tantrum, refuses to eat, listen, go to bed, sit still, or comply with any of my requests, I go from zero to 60 (or more accurately, from 30 to 60, thanks to that simmer).
I fully recognize that my dependence on yelling isn’t ideal. I need to improve. I must remind myself that my 6-year-old is just that—a 6-year-old who doesn’t always have the best self-control. I need to act like the adult I am and model the behavior I wish to see in my kids because they’re always watching, even when I think they’re not. I can already see my reactions reflected in my son’s behavior. My responsibilities are twofold: I need to rein in my negative tendencies and prevent those from taking root in him. Parenting is a blast!
My partner, Lily, approaches the situation differently, but I suspect she hasn’t quite cracked the code either. While I might rev my engine from 30 to 60, she often goes from zero to 100. She might stay calm longer and yell less often, but she harbors many of the same frustrations I do. She bottles them up until she can’t any longer, and when she does snap, it’s like a volcanic eruption.
I realize that being on the verge of losing my temper isn’t healthy for my stress levels or my relationship with my kids. Lily probably doesn’t worry too much about her occasional outbursts since she maintains her composure 90% of the time. When she finally blows, it’s shocking, which likely makes it more effective for keeping the kids in line compared to my constant barking.
However, that doesn’t mean her method is free from flaws. Just because her stress isn’t always visible like mine doesn’t mean it’s nonexistent. In theory, my frequent venting should be less taxing on my mental health than her build-up-and-explode approach. But in practice, my stress levels remain consistently high, while she seems fine until she suddenly erupts.
I’m often on edge, making my kids fearful of my reactions, while Lily usually appears calm and only gets upset when something truly warrants it. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell just how much she’s holding in until she unleashes a sonic boom that sends both the kids and me into a state of shock. But afterward? She’s perfectly fine. Maybe I should consider adopting this “hold it in until I burst” strategy.
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In summary, both my partner and I struggle with yelling and stress in our parenting. While I tend to voice my frustrations more frequently, she bottles hers up until they explode. Neither method is perfect, and we both recognize that we need to find healthier ways to cope with the challenges of raising our young children.