I’ll Admit It: I Yell At My Kids

I hate this about myself as a parent.  A little voice says, “Red Pill Parents don’t yell.”  It usually happens when we have to be somewhere at a certain time, when being late has consequences (the bus stop, dance class, a birthday party, etc.)  And it’s typically because despite all the literal verbal clues I’m giving them, i.e. “Come on, we’re running late,” “Hurry!”, “Faster!”, my kids still seem to think their typical speed is appropriate.  And their typical speed is: Moderate.  This translates to approximately 35 miles an hour on back roads.  It’s fast enough to get you there eventually, and you’ll enjoy the scenery along the way, but sometimes you really just need to get on the damn highway and hit the gas.

My frustration rises up in me like a breaching whale, and before I can even think about controlling it, it’s broken the surface, and I’m blowing hard.  The sheer force of my voice in these moments brings instant tears from both of my kids, and in my son in particular it has the complete opposite of the intended effect, because he just freezes.  I could be in his face screaming for him to run, and he’ll just stand still and cry.  It breaks my heart, and I just feel sick afterward.

I’ve always struggled with how to handle this.  I know it’s up to me to prevent situations where we have too many tasks to pack in to too little time, where I’m expecting more than their little selves can deliver.  That much is crystal clear.  But when I do blow my top, what should I do?  Should I retain my parental authority and try to instill the responsibility into them, by basically saying, “Well, that’s what I had to do to get you moving”?  Or do I fully admit that what I did was wrong, apologize profusely and smother them with hugs and kisses?

Regardless of which answer is right, if this happens in the morning before school, I’m watching the clock by the afternoon because I just can’t wait to see them and do just that: smother them with hugs and kisses and make everything better.  And as it turns out, experts agree.  Northside Hospital’s magazine arrived yesterday (with a late middle aged couple on the cover and a “4 Reasons to Love Menopause” article inside: geez, how old do they think I am?), and in an article entitled “Healthy habits that build a confident child,” there’s a paragraph about admitting your mistakes.  It reads:

“If you lose your temper or are mistaken about something, apologize to your child.  This prevents them from believing your wrath was appropriate, and it teaches your child how to make amends when a situation jumps the tracks.”

Holding on to our parental authority and making it the child’s fault that we yelled seems so last-generation, like something our own dads might have done (my dad was never wrong).  But what the magazine says rings true for me, intellectually and emotionally.  By telling them it wasn’t OK for Mommy to yell, I’m telling them that yelling is not OK — which means, hopefully, that they won’t do it, and they won’t tolerate it from others.  By apologizing, I’m modeling for them how to take responsibility for your own behavior, admit mistakes and make amends.  Part of me is worried that someday they’ll brazenly criticize me for my yelling.  But you know what?  That’s kind of the idea, isn’t it.

So in the end, maybe Red Pill Parents do yell (occasionally) — but what makes us Red Pill Parents is that having yelled, we then put our own egos and self-righteousness aside, and instead show our children what is right: personal responsibility, accountability, apologies and lots of love.