“Excuse me, could I please have a venti caramel macchiato, skim milk, extra shot, extra hot, extra whipped, and sugar-free?”
That was the overly demanding woman ahead of me in line. I, on the other hand, opted for two kiddie hot chocolates with a generous topping of whipped cream, delivered in my most polite and cheerful tone to the chipper barista.
Fast forward five minutes, and I found myself snapping at the kids for bickering over whipped cream. Clearly, I wasn’t in the best mood, but it’s not exactly polite to unleash that on someone who just crafted a pretentious drink order—even if it wasn’t mine!
I often find myself caught in this cycle. Why do we reserve our warmth for strangers? If we’re having a rough day, shouldn’t our limited friendliness be directed toward our kids instead? Why do we put on a brave face for the world while unloading our frustrations on our innocent little ones?
I know the answers, and they’re a bit rhetorical. We often vent our frustrations on those closest to us because they feel like a safe audience. It’s easier to let loose behind closed doors than to risk ruining our public image. But this shouldn’t apply to our relationships with our children.
I’m not advocating for yelling at everyone around us when we’re upset; instead, it’s perfectly acceptable to be a little subdued with a cashier at Target. They likely won’t even notice, and if they do, they might just think you’re having a bad day. But our kids? They remember every word we say.
I once told my daughter I didn’t care what she wore after she rejected my fourth outfit suggestion. She still recalls that moment, saying, “I can’t believe I have a mom who would talk to me like that.” Kids absorb everything, and we need to be mindful of how our words affect them.
When I’m overwhelmed and only have a sliver of patience left, that energy should be reserved for my children, not some random stranger. A few weeks ago, I had a wake-up call when I saw my daughter’s “feelings” art project. She had a circle divided into sections, each representing someone in her life, filled with different colors to denote emotions. My section showed a lot of joy, but a hint of purple for fear. It hit me hard; my kid is a little scared of me!
Some parents think a little fear is good for discipline, but I’m not one of them. I want to be a safe haven for my children, not a source of anxiety. When I asked her what scared her, she said it was when I yelled. I could have defended myself by explaining that I only raise my voice after repeated requests, but that wouldn’t change how she feels.
Sure, I’m not going to claim that I will never raise my voice again—living with four kids who have selective hearing requires some level of assertiveness. But I am committed to being more aware of my tone and how my mood affects them. When I have a long day and someone asks me to play a game, I need to keep my grumpiness in check.
On those tough days, I need to ensure I don’t project my frustrations onto them. This might mean wearing a slightly sour expression while I run errands or taking a moment alone with a brownie and some calming ocean sounds until I find my center. Whatever it takes, I want to give my best self to the little ones who deserve it—especially on my hardest days.
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Summary:
In parenting, it’s crucial to reserve our best selves for our children, especially on tough days. We often misplace our frustrations on those closest to us, but our kids deserve our kindness and understanding. Recognizing the impact of our words and moods can help us foster a more nurturing environment for our children.