The Yelling Project

I’m a yeller. I hate yelling. Yet, I can’t seem to stop myself. My Little Loves just push my buttons and then – WHAM! – nuclear Mommy meltdown and I start spewing forth all kinds of toxic loudness. It usually happens after I ask my kids 37 times to do something and it usually ends with me yelling some sort of Dr. Seuss sounding nonsense at them: “Time to go. Put on your shoes. Put your shoes on. Put your shoes on. Shoes on. Shoes on. Shoes on your FEET. Put SHOES on. Shoes go ON YOUR FEET. SHOES. Feet. On. GO. Feet. PUT SHOES ON! FEET AND GO!!!” And my head spins half way around my body and my eyes glow red all Exorcist-like.

I hate it. I feel horrible. My kids hate it. They feel horrible. Then I’m a Bad Mommy and I just feel worse and my patience is that much shorter making it that much more likely I’m going to lose it.

Bleckh.

So, I decided to do something about it and I found the coolest blog: The Orange Rhino (not a promotion. I don’t know this nutty lady. Just something I stumbled on in my search for help).  It’s awesome. The premise is to set a goal of number of days to stop yelling. The nutty lady set a goal of one year. And did it. Holy shitballs. A whole year of not yelling. At her husband. At her kids. At anyone. I was terrified and decided she was crazy and clearly had the help of tranquilizers, long child-free vacations and a live-in nanny. I dismissed it. Impossible. Liar liar pants on fire. A whole year is impossible. I mean, how did she make it through the holidays? How did she make it through a car trip longer than 30 minutes? How did she make it through a meal out at a restaurant? No way. 

But then I found out she was starting a 30-day challenge. I’m a sucker for challenges. I’m competitive. Ok. I can do 30-days. I’ll show you Orange Rhino Lady. Thirty days is nothin’!  I can do a month. 

So, here I go – 3o days of no yelling.  I’ve been reading up. I have my strategies. I’ve stocked the freezer and wine rack. I told my husband and kids (husband stifled a laugh but said he was on board and kids were genuinely excited). I’m telling all of you, so now I’m accountable. I’m nervous but excited. I’ve started rehearsing my song for “Put Your Shoes On” sung to the tune of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. The kids love it.

This is gonna be hard but fun(ish).

Wanna join me?

Photo Credit: The Found Animals Foundation.

Five Things You Should Never Say to the Mother of Your Children

Dear Husband,

You are a wonderful father and husband. I thank Fate everyday that we crossed paths and managed to scare each other into getting married. You do the grocery shopping (usually with the kids!), help with bedtime, cook dinner at least two nights a week, and are home for dinner almost every night. You are a dream! How did I get so lucky?

But, there are some phrases you should just stop saying. Every time I hear them, I  contemplate a one-way ticket to Tahiti…for me. Alone. All by myself.  For starters, here are five things you should never say to the mother of your children:

We need this in our house.

1. “I need a couple of minutes to go to the bathroom.” Almost without fail you come home, say hello, kiss me on the cheek, get the kids riled up with excitement to see their daddy and then excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. Alone. With the door closed. And locked. You get annoyed when one of the kids tries to follow you in there, or worse, bangs on the door demanding to be let in. I get to go to the bathroom alone only when both kids are at school or in bed. That averages out to about 1.5 times a day. And in reality, usually during one of those times you are in the bathroom brushing your teeth. No, dear husband, you get to have an audience, complete with running commentary on all of your body parts. Prepare to be humbled.  And by the way, our three-year-old is potty training so show some enthusiasm!

2. “I thought you were going to _______ .” Yes, I had big plans for today, too. I thought I was going to get a shower. I thought I was going to call the plumber. I thought I was going to put the Christmas decorations away.  I thought I was going to make it to the pharmacy. I thought when I grew up I would  travel around the world saving children from orphanages but then, guess what?? You knocked me up. Twice. And now those little bastards are holding me hostage everyday making me do things I never dreamed I would do without someone putting a gun to my head. I do not control my days, let alone my hours or minutes. Yes, I thought I was going to do something today too, but alas, I only managed to keep our small humans alive just so I can live to tell of their tortures tomorrow.

3. “Have you seen my ______?” You are a grown-up. I am keeping track of my stuff and the humongous piles of crap that come with our two children. I cannot keep track of your stuff, too. Please do your part and find your own crap. And while you’re at it, pick it up and put it away, too.

4. “It’s been a while since we…you know.” Yep. And it’s gonna be a while longer (see #1 and #2). I am never alone. Someone is always touching, grabbing, licking, wiping, hitting or otherwise abusing my body. At 8:30 at night when that finally stops, the last thing I want is a grown-up touching, grabbing, or slobbering on me. To say nothing of the other thirty things that I didn’t get done today that I must now somehow get done between the hours of 8:30 PM and 11:00 PM. Yes, I miss you. Yes, sex is important but you knocked me up (twice, remember!) and now I have certain responsibilities. I should be free in 2018.

5. “I don’t feel so well. I’m gonna take a sick day.” I call this the Man Flu. I didn’t coin this phrase but it is so true. It doesn’t matter what the affliction is but men seem to suffer so much more than anyone else when they are sick. In the five years I’ve been a parent, there is only one thing that has made me take to my bed and it was a horrible case of mastitis (can I get an “Amen!”?). So, dear husband, not that you aren’t allowed a sick day but you aren’t allowed to then lay in bed all day, complaining of how bad you feel and summoning me to fetch you drinks, medications, and meals.The barely controlled chaos of my day tips into uncontrolled chaos with the addition of your sickly demands. The lives of the three other people in our house must go on. I get sick yet our kids still get to school. They still get fed.  I still wake up at an ungodly hour to snuggle our youngest so he doesn’t wake our eldest. You can take a sick day but don’t be surprised when I only manage to throw some Children’s Tylenol and a gummy bear vitamin at you as I pass by with a half-naked toddler.  Yes, that is probably poop smeared on your drinking glass because you summoned me in the middle of a diaper change. If you get sick, do what I do and Suck. It. Up.

I love you. I appreciate you. You are amazing. But please stop saying these phrases unless you want to  be forced to hunt me down on a remote island in the middle of the South Pacific.

Hm. I think my plan is about to backfire. <Sigh.>

In case you didn’t see it, my husband  posted his reply, “Five Things You Should Never Say to the Father of Your Children.”

Photo credit: Beautiful Freaks