43 days down, 322 to go! 

Dear College Ruled Yellow Paper,
I would be lost without you. I need you like I need water. You keep me going because you free me. You free me of all the thoughts which are bogging me down and stressing me out. You give me clarity. So thank you. Please don’t ever disappear even in this ridiculous digital age. In my eyes, no computer or App can replace you.

xoxo,
The Orange Rhino

*

I have a confession to make. I am in love with someone beyond my husband, my kids, my family, my friends.  I, The Orange Rhino, am in love with my yellow college-ruled (NEVER ever wide ruled) pads of paper. I have one in the kitchen and one next to my bed. Whenever I feel like my head is going to explode from the constant bombardment, I turn to my dear friend, the yellow pad of paper.

You see, while some people do Yoga to find calm, I make to-do lists, schedules and charts to find calm! It simply brings me inner peace. When my mind is feeling crazy and overwhelmed by my ridiculous, over ambitious ideas of what I need to do to be a better mom, what Dr. appointments I need to make, what house chores I need to do, what house chores I would like to do, what personal goals I have, yadda yadda yadda, I put it all down on one of my many yellow pads of paper. And then I organize it. And then I turn to the  other two things I love – Microsoft Excel and Microsoft PowerPoint – and make a “fancy” prioritized to-do list, or a “fancy” color-coded schedule, or a “fancy” chart. And I feel better. Much better. Nothing gives me a greater natural high than making a list or a chart.

While the graphic representation of the inside of my mind can be frightening, I still love the order, the organization, the clarity it brings. I love being able to physically see how to proceed, how to stay calm. My lists and my charts are my map to get away from my mental chaos…and I would so be lost without them.

So it should be of no surprise when I started feeling challenged, feeling mental overwhelmed on this Challenge, when I started Digging Deeper, that I got pen and paper and made a chart. Several Charts actually. And guess what, I found clarity. Lots of it.

See Exhibit 1 & 2 (LOL as I write that): What Triggers, my Triggers?

From these two charts, I was able to figure out the main driver at the root of all my yelling.

I am an IMPATIENT person.

I am impatient. There I said it. I am an impatient person.  And what I feel propelled to write next is “I always have been, always will be.” But I refuse to accept that. I will NOT always be an impatient person. I am going to become a more patient person. Full stop. Period. Why? Besides the obvious that patience is a good thing?

Because “love is patient.”

On our wedding day, my husband and I promised to each other to be Patient and I owe the same promise to my sons.

How can I live up to that promise?  Well I need to understand what drives me to be Impatient…besides DNA. I love you and all dad, but I could have done without your impatient gene. That’s a joke by the way. I like my DNA. Mostly.  But seriously, what does drive me to be so impatient – with my kids, with my life, with myself?

Well another sketch helped figure that one out. See Exhibit 3, re-drawn for legibility purposes AND with some blanks. Can’t give everything away now!! I have 322 more days to blog!

Exhibit 3: I am Impatient Because…

Why am I so impatient? Crap there are lots of reasons!!!

Well crap, there is A LOT on this chart. A LOT. It is frightening indeed (especially since the empty boxes have been my life long personal challenges! But oh do I feel like a weight has been lifted. You see, all these lines with words, well these words have been bouncing around in my head for years. Driving me nuts. Making me feel overwhelmed because I KNEW that they were giving me a headache, literally and figuratively. But seeing them on paper, formally identifying them and now sharing them with the Orange Rhino Community, well, it is empowering. Because now I can’t hide anymore behind the excuse of “I don’t know why I am so stressed, why I am so impatient.”

Because, yes you do, Orange Rhino, yes you do. It is time to TAKE CHARGE, it is time to work on you. Because the nicer me, the nicer mom, the nicer more loving kids I will raise. Or at least that is my theory. Here’s hoping it works!

How will I take Charge? Did I get a map out of these other charts? Yup! But I’ll save that for a rainy day (ie. when I am ready to expose myself even more…could be a while!)

P.S. I hope this post maybe inspired you a little, made you think a little, but if neither of those I hope it made you laugh A LOT at my DORKINESS!!! Wow can NOT believe I just publicly shared these charts with strangers…

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41 days down, 324 to go!

Dear Muscles,
With all this digging I’ve been doing, where the heck are my beautifully sculpted arms? They still look flabby and gross. Can I at least get a little bit of tone going on? After all, spring is around the corner and I would love to wear some sleeveless, flirty, non-maternity dresses!

Much obliged,
The Orange Rhino

*

41 days down. I’m psyched. 324 to go? I’m totally terrified.  Because this is hard, hard, wicked hard work! The first two weeks not yelling were easy – the adrenaline from realizing I could actually not yell and the novelty of my new persona drove me to succeed. And then reality set in, the adrenaline vanished and it became hard work. Holy SH*T! It took A LOT, and I mean a heck of A LOT of energy to achieve days 15 to 25 ish days which made me think is this sustainable? If so, how will I sustain it?

Do I remove all the legos from the house since they drive me nuts when they aren’t cleaned up and I step on one? Do I give my kids chicken fingers every night so there are less fights? Do I wear a bathing suit during bath time so I don’t care if I get splashed? Do I keep figuring out my triggers and try to remove the ones I can? Yes.

Do I just keep responding to these triggers by taking deep breaths, stomping my feet, walking out of the room, laughing at situations, taking pictures, whispering to the kids, reminding myself they are just kids, and posting on Facebook when I am going to blow? Yes.

And then I had a big, gigantic Orange Rhino Revelation that is great, but that totally sucks too. Sure, I can do all of the above things. And obviously the latter set I have to do, but if I want this all to be easier, to be less hard work, and more natural, more a part of me, I have to do some serious, personal hard work first. I have to figure out, not just the surface level triggers, not just how to respond to them, but I have to figure out what is triggering my triggers.

What really drives me to yell?
What is at the ROOT of my yelling?

Sure it’s easy to blame it on my kids annoying behavior. Their behavior might (definitely) suck at particular moments and YES kids can be ANNOYING but it’s my choice as to how to handle it. While it might take 2 people to tango, and it might seem like it takes 2 people to yell (1 as the yeller, 1 as the instigator), it really only takes 1 person to yell. It takes me.

It is up to ME to control MY voice.

I have to decide whether or not I will yell. My kiddos can instigate all they want but unless they are saying “mommy yell at me” or coming over to pry my mouth open to yell, they aren’t making me yell (even if it feels like it).

And while I can try my darnest to teach them to ditch their annoying behaviors, to teach them to not interrupt when I am on the phone, to not wrestle each other on the coffee table, to not throw their plate across the kitchen (which by the way when full of food is just AWESOME), at the end of the day,

no matter what I wish, there is only one person whose behavior I can control. Mine.

Which means I have to better understand myself and why I yell. I just can’t ENTIRELY blame my yelling on my kiddos. Yes, sometimes I can and will blame them, like when #2 shakes the babies pack n play with him in it and I’ve politely and clearly told him numerous times before that is a definite no-no and he knows it. And well sometimes I can just blame my desire to yell on having a bad day. We all have them. But for the most part, I have to, no, I WANT TO look deeper because I feel that will help ME make yelling (more of) a thing of the past. And that is the hard sh*tty part!

Looking in the mirror can be really UGLY. Being honest, being really really truly deeply honest can be UGLY. And Hard. And it can feel like a relief to tell the truth, like a burden is lifted, but sometimes the process of getting there can suck. Like the last 2 weeks + of my life. It sucked.

It was easy to say I yell too much, that was obvious to everyone in my house. My kids, my husband, my parents, my in-laws, anyone who walked through my door and stayed more than 48 hours could tell you I yell too much. Then it was easy to say I yell too much because I am Impatient. But why I am so impatient? I am tired, stressed, overwhelmed, have four kids blah, blah, blah.

But Why? (do I sound like a kid yet? Why Mommy? Why? Why? Why? Why? )

Why am I stressed? Why am I overwhelmed?

Having to figure out why I yell too much, what if anything I can CHANGE,  and then ADMIT it, admit what I have to do to change, well that ain’t easy and it isn’t entirely pretty either.

Which is why I haven’t been blogging as much. Because this digging has been HARD WORK and mentally exhausting. I’ve figured out some things that I just don’t want to write about and see LIVE on “paper” because it means they are REAL. These “things” that if I decide to work on, decide to commit to and change, mean even more hard work. And I mean really, do I REALLY have time for more work???

But someone told me you only work hard at things you care about and are passionate about. Well this, The Orange Rhino Challenge, my not yelling at my kids for 365 days, I sure as heck am passionate about.

So of course I have the time. It just might mean I won’t blog as much as I like!

Wondering what I discovered? Oh well what fun would that be if I told you all my dark secrets here, in one post??? Stay tuned! I still have to find the courage to write about them!

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38 days down, 327 to go!

Dear #1 and #2,
I am glad you had so much fun today. Really I am. Especially because you were having fun together which is a rarity in this house. But next time, can you have more fun doing oh say, not naughty things? I would be much obliged because then I wouldn’t have bitten my tongue trying to not yell.

Thanks,
Your Loving Mom, a.k.a
The Orange Rhino

*

I continue to surprise myself. From 4:30pm to 7:30 pm I certainly should have yelled. At least once. More like four times. Because that is what I would have done in the past.  #1 and #2 were in KAHOOTZ tonight to piss me off. They were determined. Even when I said  “ORANGE RHINO. I am going to lose it” they kept going. With smirks and laughter to boot. Little sh*ts. Oh but I love them.

I don’t know why I didn’t yell.  Maybe it was the Spring type weather, the 8 hours of sleep last night, or maybe I am changing.Or maybe I just realized that I didn’t stand a chance against these two tonight! Sometimes, you just have to toss your hands up in the air and say, oh well. They’re not hurt, they’re not being rude, they’re just having fun. LOOSEN UP mamma! (Yes, I am WICKED uptight. Ask anyone who knows me!)

It all started at 4:30. I had asked the boys to clean up. It got quiet. Really quiet. I looked in the hall closet. All the coats (6 people’s worth!) were on the floor. #1 was standing on top of his Pottery Barn Cushion Chair – which is anything but strong – with six linked hangers in his hand trying to get down a spool of gift ribbon to decorate the house. #2 is standing there as well, taking orders from #1 as to how to support him so he doesn’t fall. It was actually kind of cute…and very resourceful. So I let the mess slide.

I politely reminded them to clean up. I got back to helping #3 clean up.Then I saw something white flying through the air.

What is white, light, and can float in the air for long distances? TOILET PAPER.

Well, since I had ruined their plans to decorate the house with green ribbon they decided together that toilet paper was better. Well at this point I had the baby in my arms. So as I went to grab #1 and stop him with my one free hand, #2 ran back into the bathroom and got more toilet paper. When I stopped him, #1 got free and went into the bathroom. I was completely outmatched.

And I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t yell which is SO what I wanted to do. No, I wanted to SCREAM, like level 6 scream. I wanted to scare them to make them stop in their tracks. They were so giddy from having fun (and probably from the Spring weather too!) that my voice, even my whisper, didn’t demand their attention. I was beyond annoyed because now the entire area was COVERED in one spool of toilet paper. Finally, baby still in arms, and still screaming (lucky kid, that is what I wanted to be doing!) I boxed them out and shut the bathroom door. What else was I supposed to do? Yeah, probably should have just started throwing toilet paper too. Would have been way more fun!

The dynamic duo moved into the kitchen to “color.” Excellent I thought, some nice quiet time. Then it got quiet again. SH*T!

#1 came running out of the bathroom looking like he was ready for a Tribal meeting in the Madagascar movie. He had taken his shirt off and used his Crayola markers to drawn on his face. Now, this wasn’t new. He had done the same a few days earlier. But I was sure that the strong scrubbing in the bathtub for 30 minutes to remove the NON-truly-WASHABLE markers would have cemented in his brain that this was a dumb idea. Clearly, it hadn’t. As I went to wash his face off, I saw another child, #2 of course run out of the kitchen. Well sh*t. Yup, he came back equally decorated.

Again, what’s a mom to do? I mean really?

What's a mom to do? Yell?! Nah. It was too funny. Kind of. It was a pain to wash off!!!

When this is what your kids look like, when they’ve played together joyfully, does yelling really achieve anything??? Nah. I just said to myself screw it. They look hilarious. No need to yell.

Oh, you are probably thinking that was it for the night. Right? Yeah, for an hour.

Our marathon scrubbing the non-washable-markers off bath is over. I am counting down the minutes to a nice, cold, refreshing beer. #1 and #2 and #3 have been tucked in. #4 is having his bottle. It is peaceful. For 30 seconds.

#3 is banging on the door, presumably with his fists.

With my baby in my arms, I walked into #3’s room. I picked him up off the floor where he had been HAMMERING the door. Yes, not banging with fists, but HAMMERING the brand new door with the plastic hammer he snuck into his room since his tools are his security items. I calmly (how the he*k I was calm I truly don’t know) put him in bed, told him good night and walked out.

What a sh*t show.

Alas, it is now 8:10. Not gonna lie, I don’t even need a beer to relax. Because making it through the last few hours without yelling feels really good. Really really good. Being more chill feels great, almost better than a cold beer.

Who am I kidding? I need to celebrate. Cheers!

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36 days down, 329 to go!

Dear 36 D,
I miss you. Every morning when I get dressed I desperately search for you and you are nowhere to be found. All that is left is a bunch of flappy, saggy skin with no resemblance of any shape. It is an ugly sight. An anything but feminine and sexy sight. A reminder that I’m done nursing and having kids sight. And it makes me start the day really sad. Even my super duper lift up bra doesn’t lift my spirits, or anything for that matter, since there is nothing to lift! But then I remember what I have gained in your loss. A much more relaxed, more available, more loving me. So I’d say the trade off is worth it, wouldn’t you? I know my kids would.

It’s been real,
The Orange Rhino

*

Oh my boobs. My blessed wonderful boobs. My boobs that weren’t designed for breastfeeding, but that were designed for exclusive breastpumping. Yup, I pumped for my four boys. I attached myself to the boob-sucker and mooed like a cow for a total of 26 months for 75+ minutes a day. 75 not so pleasant minutes of feeling guilty that I wasn’t breastfeeding and feeling irritated by the sound of a breast pump…

Errr, er. Errr, er. Errr, er. Errr, er.

The sound drove me batty. I mean really, you would think that Medela would have created some flap to cover the pump to soften the noise. But no, they seem to think it necessary for us ladies, who are already suffering from our tender breasts being sucked alive to also suffer through one of the most obnoxious sounds EVER. And furthermore, where is the label on the breast pump that reads:

WARNING if you use this repeatedly, your breasts will actually shrink in size and will lose any and all form of perkiness that they once had, leaving you feeling less feminine, something you didn’t realize you cared about? And where is the label that says:

WARNING even if you hate using this machine, you will miss it when you no longer need it.

I should have looked for that Warning label more. Because then maybe I would have found the resilience to pump longer. Because I do miss the blessed machine just as much as I miss my boobs.

Do I miss the sound? Heck no. Do I miss having one more thing to do every day? Heck no. Do I miss having to try and parent while connected to a tube that was connected to a machine that was connected to a wall? DOUBLE HECK NO.

But do I miss the pump because I discovered that for me, the milk I did make, even if from a pump, symbolized my last physical connection with my son, and to his fleeting babyhood, two of the many truly sacred and powerful pieces of mommyhood?

HECK YES!

Because in my heart of hearts, I know that our 4^th is our last. And no matter how much I complained about what a pain in the ass pumping was, or how much I complain about how hard the sleepless babyhood days can be I just can’t imagine not experiencing either again. I just can’t.

And so I held on to pumping as long as I could.

But, I had to stop. I had to stop so that I could be a better mom.

I know that sounds a*s backwards – giving breast milk is supposed to make me a better mom and all. But it wasn’t. It was making me a worse mom. All the time constraints around breast pumping, all the pain from constant clogged ducts, all while having 4 kids who needed me, stressed me out. A LOT. And when I am stressed out I tend to Yell. A LOT.

As a matter of fact, the day I had my “I yell too much Epiphany” I was attached to the boob sucker. I can blame a lot of my yelling B.C. on the pump. Why? Because when attached, not only could I not give my kids my total attention, but I was also agitated by the sound and really impatient and irritable (really it takes this long to make 6 ounces?  We’ve got stuff to do!) These things combined lead to the same thing every time. Yelling.  Repeated 4 times a day. Do the math. That’s a lot of yelling.

And so I stopped pumping for the final time in my life.

IT WAS HARD letting go of the connection to my son and to my child bearing years.  But it was even harder constantly feeling crappy about how much I yelled at the ones I love. It is no coincidence that 10 days after I stopped pumping, I celebrated 10 days of not yelling 10 days of loving more.  Because in removing this stressor from my life, I became more relaxed and more available for my kids. And subsequently, I started yelling less and loving more.

I might have traded in my beautiful size 36D boobs for 36 -AAA, and I might have been forced to accept that I will not be making breast milk again, that I will not be having any more kids again much sooner than I was ready for, but I have gained a more peaceful and loving connection with my boys. And that is way more beautiful and bountiful than a size 36D.

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35 days down, 335 to go!

Dear Bed Time,
Oh how you can annoy me so.
I know I am supposed to love you and cherish you, but sometimes I do not.
I just want the kids to wash up, brush their teeth, and then curl up in their cots.
Please don’t get me wrong.
The bath time giggles, the stories, the nighttime snuggles I do LOVE.
It’s just that you stand in my way from my hours that are peaceful like a dove.
I ask you, implore of you, please be kind to me.
Help the kids move along from bath to bed without a fight,
So that I can send them to slumber full of hugs and kisses, not anger, for the night.

xoxo,

The Orange Rhino

*

Wowsers! Did NOT think I was going to make it today (also didn’t think I would write a poem?! Huh?!)

Anyway, the day was going relatively fine. Despite 5 hours of sleep (basically my own doing, dumba*s) I was mostly cool, calm, and collected. Three words I would never have used to describe myself before The Orange Rhino Challenge.

Then I started thinking. Which is NEVER a good thing. Thinking about how #4 is growing up too fast. Thinking about how I struggle to enjoy the present. Thinking about how much I worry about what other people think.

The pre-occupied mind moved in.

Then for some reason for which I have no idea, maybe too much coffee, maybe the start of the stomach bug, maybe because of all the thinking, the intense, I can’t move, I want to cry, stomach pain moved in.

Then the physical exhaustion hit. WHAM.

And what time was it? 5:30. The beginning of the end of the day. The beginning of the longest hour for me. The beginning of an hour where I am antsy and eager for it to be over the minute it started.

I have 60 minutes where I get to bathe 4 kiddos and get them to bed. All while they 1) complain I turned the TV off, 2) complain I picked out the wrong pajamas, 3) complain they don’t want to wash their hair, 4) complain that daddy isn’t home, 5) oh screw it. The list goes on and on.

If I had to write a Chemical Equation for what triggers a massive yelling Reaction, tonight would be it.

Mental Preoccupation + Physical Pain + Physical Exhaustion + Complaining Children + Antsy Mommy => 1 Yelling Mama!

So going into what feels like the “never ending hour,” the hour that is supposed to be peaceful and loving but feels more like a head-banging negotiation, I had all the right chemicals mixed together for an explosion.

But the explosion never came.

I continue to be surprised by myself.

I mean the night time routine, forget my kids having a meltdown, this is my meltdown time. I usually yell used to yell at least 1x per child during that hour. And that is was on a good day.

“Stop screwing around, brush your teeth.”
“Go to the bathroom already.”
“No putting your butts in each others’ faces” (really, this is what boys do???)
“Don’t spit on the mirror, spit in the sink!”
“Hurry up, it’s bedtime, not playtime!”

Bedtime is simply a hard hour. Even though I look forward to it on really long days, and I love the one last snuggle when I tell each boys why I love them so, getting to that point is hard. Because everyone is tired and MAMA wants the day to be over. I want to claim my life back for a whopping 2 hours. Hey it may be two hours, but they are MY two hours. The two hours where I can pee on my own without someone asking if it is a pee or poop. The two hours where I don’t have to watch a talking truck on TV, where I can do what I need to do without first getting 4 kids settled only to have to re-settle one 2 minutes into doing what I need to do. The two hours where I can talk/email without interruption, where I can enjoy silence and just breathe. And quite frankly, anything that slows down my getting to my 2 hours, well, has the tendency to annoy me.

I do my best to remain calm during bath and bed time, to not rush my boys so that I can send them to bed relaxed and reassured of mommy’s love. This is supposed to help them sleep better…and I think it does. But WHOA is it hard. Because I just want to be done. I don’t want to read one more book or answer one more question, I just want to relax. And of course my desire to be done makes me antsy. And being antsy makes the kids antsy. And when they are antsy Bath time / Bed time takes longer. So it is all massively counterproductive.

But still, most every night I am antsy.

And nights like tonight, when my stomach and head are throbbing, I am extra antsy. And I yell, or used to yell, A LOT.

But tonight, I had something new in my favor. Awareness. I knew going into the “never ending hour”  that the cards were stacked against me. So I mentally prepared myself and told my kids what was up.

“Mommy doesn’t feel well. I need you to be extra good tonight because I love you and I don’t want to yell.”

Instead of yelling, I just kept saying this one line over and over. And over. And over. To re-assure me, to re-assure my kiddos.

Turns out, it was the best one-liner I’ve ever used. It scored me Day 35.

Wow, communication really has its perks.

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34 days down, 331 to go!

Dear Day 34,
I am embarrassed to report that you almost won because of cantaloupe. Cantaloupe people. I almost yelled because of cantaloupe. If that isn’t ridiculous, I don’t know what is. Yelling over pineapple? That I can understand. It’s prickly. So it could hurt me and cause me to yell. But cantaloupe? It is sweet and tender and besides it is orange, my new favorite color. How can cantaloupe anger me? I don’t know, but it did. I must be entering my “testy” stage. So could you do me a favor Day 34? Could you ask Day 35 to be sweet and tender like the cantaloupe?

Thanks,
The Orange Rhino

*

Just writing this makes me laugh. I almost yelled at my kids over a fruit. A FRUIT. It was an interesting series of emotions, this Cantaloupe encounter. Talk about a roller coaster ride.

Here’s the background. Dinner is over. Kids are watching night time show. #1 says he is still hungry and helps himself to cantaloupe. Great healthy choice, no complaints. #2 decides it is a great idea too. And of course #3 agrees. So now my three muskateers are sitting at the counter eating cantaloupe for dessert instead of heading upstairs to bed. Seems so sweet and innocent, right?

Begin the roller coaster ride of emotions:

HAPPY: Wow, this is a beautiful, happy moment. I am going to get the camera so I can remember it when sh*t hits the fan. (By the way, NEVER think to yourself, wow, things are calm and wonderful, they could get worse.  It invites the karma gods to cause unrest.)

DUMBFOUNDED, 15 seconds later: Wow, they dumped out the ENTIRE container of juicy, sticky cantaloupe onto the counter. The just cleaned counter. The counter I don’t want to clean again. Oh wait, awesome, all the cantaloupe juice is dripping onto the chairs and the floors. Sweet! More sticky mess to clean up while the baby cries for bath, bottle, and bed.

A sweet moment. Kind of.

CALM, 5 seconds later: Wow, I can handle this. I have my camera I’ll take a picture and laugh as that is what I have learned to do in these situations.

AGITATED, 5 seconds later: Wow, what a friggin’ mess. This isn’t funny. It’s annoying. Especially since #2 is sick so all of his pile now can’t be shared. He’d better want Cantaloupe this week. Ugh. It’s past bed time, I want the day to be over, WTF.

VERY AGITATED, 5 seconds later: “BOYS, why did you…”

#1 chimes in. “ORANGE RHINO mommy. Your voice is going up.”

My response:

STILL AGITATED: “Thank you #1. I know that.”

“No really, mom, you’re close to yelling. I’m just saying. It’s a warning.”

LAUGHING, 5 seconds later: Wow, my 5 ½ year just gave ME a warning. What’s next, a time out?

Hopefully not, because in this case a timeout means resetting my clock. And I’ve worked hard to get here. Really really hard. Not yelling takes a lot of work – it is a lot of ups and downs, up and downs, up and downs. It is great but man is it work. Just look at this one example that lasted, oh say, 60 seconds? It took a lot of energy to ensure that my sweet side overruled my prickly side. And that was just 1 minute. There are 779 more minutes like that one during the rest of the day. Okay, well not every minute from 6:30 am until 7:30 pm is like that but at least half are, or at least it feels like it. If not more.

The Orange Rhino Challenge is an absolute commitment. A bigger commitment than I imagined. But I am not going to give up.

I am certainly not going to give up because of a minor inconvenience like having to wipe a counter and wipe the floor. That’s what, 2 minutes of work? If that? In the grand scheme of things, no big deal. I can handle that. What I wouldn’t be able to handle would be yelling. If I had yelled that would have taken up at least 30 minutes of my life because I would have spent at least that amount of mental time feeling crappy and sulky…especially given the circumstances.

You see, what was a minor inconvenience for me, was a major bonding and growing moment for my boys. They were not only proud to have been resourceful enough to help themselves to dessert, but they were also proud of their healthy choice and as an added bonus were proud to have divided up the fruit evenly for sharing. I mean look at that picture, I think those two piles are perfectly even and the third, not pictured was identical!!

If I had yelled in this silly situation, I would have squashed their enthusiasm, their confidence and hurt their feelings. In other words, I would have been a prickly pineapple. I have never really liked pineapple, so that doesn’t work for me.  I much prefer to be a sweet and tender cantaloupe, I’ve always loved cantaloupe and it is afterall my boy’s favorite fruit. So cantaloupe I will be.

FLABBERGASTED: Wow, did I really just write that? Did I really just end a post comparing myself to fruit? What is this challenge doing to me?

HAPPY: Wow, it is making me relax. Excellent.

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31 days down, 334 to go!

Dear Baskin Robbins,
Today when I woke up I thought of you because today is my attempt at going 31 days without yelling. Every time I see that number I think of you and all the times I told the 31 original flavors to customers and all the memories we shared during my childhood. I’ve been faithful to you for so long, but I have to come clean. I have grown up and moved on to finer tastes. And as it turns out, my sons have adopted the same taste. I’m sorry I couldn’t make them love you like I did.

Fondly,

The Orange Rhino

*

I find it hilarious that I started the day thinking about Baskin Robbins and ice cream and then this happened:

I (used to) scream, you scream, THEY still scream for Ice Cream!

Totally busted. I went upstairs for 1 minute to check on SCREAMING baby (awesome times right now in The Orange Rhino household) and this is what I returned to – #1 and #2 QUICKLY scarfing down MY Haagen Daz. They know that it is mommy’s ice cream for when she is stressed and that theirs is (was) the Baskin Robbins quarts with pink lids. It seems we have all moved on, them from Basking Robbins, me from yelling.

You see normally, upon seeing this I would have yelled because there are so many things wrong with this picture. 1) They are eating ice cream without permission 2) They are eating MY ice cream 3) They are sitting on the counter 4) They aren’t offering to share and 5) While I got the camera, they finished it without giving me a bite! The only good thing, they were doing something together that wasn’t wrestling. So not only could I not yell because of The Orange Rhino Challenge, I couldn’t (didn’t want) to yell because they were getting along for a change. So instead, I got the camera and smiled. It was kind of nice to see that they love ice cream as much as I do…. it makes me know that they truly are my kiddos.

I mean, I love love love ice cream. Who doesn’t love ice cream? I live for ice cream. If I could have had an ice cream wedding cake, I would have. If I had the financial means, I would open up an ice cream store. If I could eat ice cream every night, I would. I literally think it is all I ate during my 4^th pregnancy so it isn’t a surprise that boy #4 has a lactose intolerance and I had to give up my nightly ice cream fix for 6 months while nursing just to help his stomach out. That was brutal. BRUTAL. When I stopped nursing all I wanted was ice cream. Or so I thought.

I had my first ice cream fix all planned out. It was going to be a double scoop sundae at Friendly’s – vanilla ice cream, with hot fudge, peanut butter sauce, whipped cream, marshmallows and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. But the most tragic thing happened. After not having had ice cream for 6 months, when I took a bite, it tasted BLAH. Blah blah blah. It didn’t appeal to me at all. I took another bite. Same response. In fact, I didn’t even finish it. My husband was convinced I was sick. I wasn’t. I have just simply lost my appetite for ice cream. I’ll take a few bites a night as a reward for surviving the day, but that’s it. My ability to eat a whole sundae and enjoy it is gone.  The satisfaction from eating ice cream is gone.

And well, it seems I’ve lost my appetite for yelling too. In not having “yelling binges” for 31 days I hardly feel like yelling anymore. I just don’t feel like “yelling” as a means of releasing frustration exists in my body anywhere. It isn’t even trying to poke out and scream hello.

One day I was so angry I went into the garage to yell and nothing came out. I physically couldn’t yell. At first, it was a massive let down. I really needed a release at that moment and I was so proud of myself for walking away from my boys. I was sure yelling into the garage would instantly make me feel better. But to yell and have nothing come out was like, huh? WTF? This is what I used to do to feel better. This is what I used to like to doing. It was my sure thing. What happened? It was disappointing but also so invigorating at the same time because it meant one thing. My ability to yell was gone.

But let me be very clear.

Am I still frustrated? Oh yes. Do my kids still drive me bonkers at times? H*ll yes.  But my first impulse isn’t too yell. The SATISFACTION I got from yelling is gone, and with it, the temptation. I was never really satisfied by yelling before, I always felt crappy afterwards. But at least it felt like a release of sorts and that was satisfying. But now I have found other ways to release that are more satisfying…because I release without making my kids cry.

Now my first inclination is to stomp my feet (my guess, is kind of like how I envision a Rhino would do before charging?). Yes I look like a fool. An absolute, utter, fool. I stop wherever I am, close my eyes, clench my fists and teeth and stomp my feet. I kind of look like a two year old having a tantrum – without the yelling of course. But it works. And at this point, I’m going with whatever works because not only am I not screaming for ice cream anymore, but I’m not screaming at my kiddos either it and feels great.

(P.S. I won’t scream if my appetite for ice cream returns, that would be cool. But I will scream if my appetite for yelling does return…life is just better without it. Harder perhaps, but better.)

www.Facebook.com/TheOrangeRhino
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30 days down, 335 to go!

Dear Day 30,
WOW! I so never thought you were going to come. I mean really, me, not yelling for 30 days straight? That’s a joke. I still don’t believe it. I am pretty sure my mother-in-law wouldn’t believe it either but she would be thrilled. She never really has approved of how much I used to yell. Used to yell. Wow, that is cool to write. Used to. Not do yell, but used to. Sweet.  And to be clear, it wasn’t that I yelled 24-7 but when I did, it was mean. Oh boy was it mean. And the boys cowered. It was not cool. So tonight, I am pretty ecstatic at the progress I have made. I still have a LONG ROAD ahead. A long, long road. Probably more like a long, bumpy, slippery and wicked steep hill. But that’s okay. The drive is totally worth it. My boys are totally, no more than totally, worth it.

Cheers,
The Orange Rhino

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THE ORANGE RHINO REVELATION: I am not the only one with good ideas in this house, I am not the only one who knows a thing or two! It turns out that my boys do too. I need to be more open-minded to what they have to say because well sh*t they might actually have a really good point and conceding that point could save me from a lot of unnecessary yelling!

This morning #1 and I were in our  normal battle over what clothes he should wear. He wanted to wear shorts and a t-shirt, I wanted him to wear the pants and t-shirt I put out. 5 minutes later he was downstairs, on the couch in shorts.

Me: WTF? I thought we had this discussion?

Okay, no I didn’t say that but I wanted to!

Me:
#1, we discussed this, it’s too cold for shorts.

#1:
Yes mom, but I want to wear shorts.

Me (totally annoyed because I had been up since 4:45 with the baby…):
Well, I’m sorry, you can not wear shorts.End of discussion.

#1:
You know mom, I can just run up and change after the show is over.

Me:
Oh, okay, I guess you are right.

Well that sure as heck was a lot smoother than yelling at him, demanding him to change at that moment. There was of course still a lot of reminding after the shower was over but at least we reached a compromise and there were no tears involved!

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THE ORANGE RHINO REVELATION: BirthDAYS might not be the same now that I am a mom, in fact they might be out right depressing (read more at It’s my Birthday and I’ll cry if I want to), but that is why I am inventing BirthNIGHTS. Dinners out with girlfriends to celebrate my Birthday. BirthNIGHTS are never depressing and always fun. My BirthNIGHT with one of my friends was tonight hence the no major post 🙂 And it couldn’t have come at a better night, as I got to have a glass of champagne in honor of my BirthNIGHT and my 30 days without yelling. Woo hoo!

Cheers!

The Orange Rhino
www.Facebook.com/TheOrangeRhino