Lately, my household has been filled with a cacophony of shouts over the usual squabbles: “STOP TELLING YOUR BROTHER HE DANCES LIKE A GIRAFFE!” and “GET OFF YOUR PHONE! YOU’VE BEEN IN THE BATHROOM FOR 45 MINUTES!” With the warm weather rolling in and the windows thrown wide open, it feels like our voices are traveling just as far as the soccer balls that inevitably end up in our neighbor’s yards.
I adore my children as much as I cherish discounted Halloween candy, but unlike that candy, my kids rarely take my words to heart unless I raise my voice to nearly 120 decibels. (For context, a lawn mower operates at about 90 db.) The back-and-forth of yelling has become a daily routine, but as I’ve mentioned, it’s time to tone things down for open-window season.
If you find yourself in a similar predicament, you might be wondering how to achieve this goal. I considered family therapy as a possible solution, but despite my search for therapists since temperatures rose above 65 degrees, I’ve yet to make an appointment. Surprisingly, however, the volume in our home has lessened recently.
Here’s how I managed that transformation. Remember, I’m not a trained professional or a therapist—just a mom trying to help other parents maintain peace while enjoying the summer breeze.
It all began on a Sunday evening after a long, hot weekend filled with lacrosse games, baseball, bounce houses, and even horse grooming. In my relentless quest for order, I asked my six-year-old daughter, Lily, to rinse off in the shower. “I DON’T WANT TO!” she protested, her feelings clearly on display. She had just received an elaborate glitter tattoo of a flaming rose on her forearm, and the thought of it washing away was a tragedy in her eyes.
“Don’t worry, it’s waterproof,” I reassured her, recalling my own childhood glitter tattoo experiences—or lack thereof. Seconds later, she stepped into the shower, filled with hesitation. I sat on my bed folding laundry when I suddenly heard the piercing cry, “NOOOOOOO!”
In an exaggerated moment of despair, I threw my head back in frustration and accidentally bumped it against the wall. The pain shot through my skull, and I fell into my pillows, curling up in discomfort. “MOOOM! I HATE YOU! YOU’RE SO MEAN! MY TATTOO IS GONE! YOU’RE THE WORST MOM EVER!” The sound reverberated through the house, echoing off the walls and tiles.
As I listened to her lamentation, I felt a wave of self-pity wash over me. Then, Lily walked past me without a glance, and I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness. Usually so empathetic, she was clearly consumed by her loss.
Just then, my son, Jake, entered the scene. Typically, he would be the one yelling, but today was different. He looked at me with genuine concern and asked, “What’s wrong, Mom?”
“I banged my head really hard,” I replied, my voice a mere whimper, dragging out my suffering for sympathy. Then it slipped out: “Lily didn’t even care!”
With that, Jake took off running to her room. “Do you know Mom hit her head, and you didn’t even check on her?” His delight in being the “good” sibling was evident. Lily rushed back into my room, tears streaming down her face, “I didn’t know!”
“I hit my head, and you just walked past me!” I moaned, clutching my pillow as if it were a life raft. I could see the guilt creeping into her expression.
It turns out that by playing up my injury, I effectively disrupted our usual yelling dynamic. I lay there quietly, and they stood by my bedside, side by side, behaving like concerned onlookers. Typically, I would have to remind them to brush their teeth at least five times, but this time, when I asked them in a muffled voice from beneath my pillow, they promptly obeyed.
“And don’t forget your pajamas!” I added, testing my newfound luck. They returned, dressed and ready for bed, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit triumphant.
That night, they climbed into bed without incident. The next morning, they even asked how my head felt (still throbbing, but I exaggerated just a bit). When I asked them to get their shoes on for school and they feigned ignorance, I simply placed my hands on my head and quietly pleaded for help. At first, they looked puzzled, but to my amazement, they went to put their shoes on!
While I wouldn’t recommend intentionally injuring yourself, I can attest that my little mishap led to some surprisingly peaceful days. If you want to enjoy the sounds of summer without the background noise of screaming, consider a little dramatization of your own. Just remember, vulnerability can sometimes work wonders in getting your kids to listen.
For more tips on navigating parenting challenges, check out our other post on home insemination. If you’re looking for insights on enhancing fertility, Make A Mom is an authority on the topic. And for reliable information about pregnancy, the CDC is an excellent resource.
In summary, the chaos of yelling in a household can be transformed through an unexpected approach. By demonstrating vulnerability and allowing children to see their parents as human, it’s possible to foster a more peaceful environment at home.