Stayed home with the boys all day today while Ken worked and did not yell once.
And if you don't have kids or don't remember (cause who wants to remember yelling) what it feels like to yell at your kids - it really sucks. There are people who will lovingly tell you that sometimes you have to yell at them and that everyone yells at their kids sometimes and that they themselves even yell at their kids, and that's all well and good and true but even so - not yelling - is way better.
The simple truth is that I didn't yell not because I was a calm, zen mother, but because there weren't that many conflicts. H was at Nana and Papa's so C didn't have anyone to spar with and after his 20 minutes on the computer he disappeared upstairs to stage elaborate Playmobil battles. The twins got along with each other downstairs and even cleaned up their toys without being asked.
We didn't have to go anywhere so there was no getting-out-of-the-house-on-time stress. I even managed a few minutes of living in the present before H got home and we moved on to stories and homework.
The no yelling thing was great but what makes it all the more interesting is that I also talked to my sister on the phone today and one of the things we talked about was the people who post on Facebook about how incredibly happy and fulfilled their lives are and how I feel like the more you post on Facebook about how deliriously happy you are, the more unhappy you must secretly be. What's wrong with admitting to a little unhappiness? A little frustration?
So we started making analogies. How can you appreciate being happy if you've never been sad? How can you appreciate summer if you never lived through winter? How can you enjoy your own inner calm if you've never been outwardly mad? How can you appreciate a day of no yelling if you haven't had days where there's yelling (lots and lots of yelling).
song: Rebel Yell • artist: Billy Idol
Dance with me
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