Happy Sunday all! Today I re-learned a crucial lesson I learned on The Orange Rhino Challenge. It’s a lesson that would have been wicked super to have remembered at 6 am this morning. Enjoy! P.S. I am really good at figuring out a better blog post title AFTER I finish. And I am really NOT good at adding said title into the video after the fact. Oh well 😉

Since Facebook didn’t want you all to see this, hahaha, I am sharing this post here because I think everyone can always use a good laugh, and well some tips to yell less!

“It’s been a tough week trying to not yell due to some personal stress. I was flipping through my book today and I saw these pictures from my photo shoot and I immediately started laughing and felt better. That is the intention of these photos – to make you laugh in the middle of the book when you are working hard and needing a boost. Actually, there is a lot of that in the book, laughter (or my attempts at it!) Learning to yell less doesn’t have to be all serious, it can be fun too! Just wait and see. Anywho, I hope this made you laugh today! These are just some of the photos by the way. I might just post more out takes because there are some GREAT ones. Thanks to Christine DeSavino Photography for rocking the photo shoot. Happy laughing…at me…and then hopefully happy not yelling! Remember, you can pre-order the book to guarantee the lowest price before it officially hits shelves and that you are one of the first with it when it comes out!”

I feel it.
I’m not talking about the cooler nights that tell me fall is near.
I am talking about the sadness, anxiety, and stress that come with back to school.

The sadness that the summer went by too fast, again, and that soon my boys and I won’t be playing outside in the gorgeous weather, but rather stuck inside while it snows, and snows, and snows.

The anxiety about whether or not my children will have good teachers, teachers that don’t just get the topics they have to teach, but also really, truly, deeply get my sons and their challenges and what particular needs they have in order to succeed and have a great year.

The stress of having a lot to do to get ready for school (the back to school clothes and supplies, the new routines to master, the scheduling of extra-curricular activities, the filling out of forms) and having to do a lot when school starts.

I feel it all.

But I am not the only one in my house who feels the sadness, anxiety and stress. My boys feel it too. I see it in the more frequent tears over small things. I see it in the strong complaints when I go to work. I see it in the increased temper tantrums. I see it in the refusal to go to bed because, “Well soon enough mom I have to go to bed earlier so I am not going to bed now.”

And I see it in our interactions.

I’m a little more on edge. They are a little more on edge. Together, we are a lot more on edge and as a result, oh has my desire to yell been through the roof (and eh hem, oh have they been yelling at me more!) Oh has my commitment to be an Orange Rhino, a parent who does not charge with words, but remains calm and loving when provoked, been tried lately! This of course is all quite sad because right now, I don’t want to be at odds with my boys, I want to be really savoring the last few weeks of our summer vacation!

I don’t want to find myself taking mommy-breaks every five minutes to stay cool; I want to be breaking water balloons in the backyard with my sons.

I don’t want to be shoving a yell down my throat, I want to be shoveling sand peacefully at the beach building an awesome last “structure” of the summer.

I don’t want to be debating bedtime; I want to be debating what was our favorite moment together that day.

I don’t want my “cold” emotions to determine my last few weeks of summer; I just want the cold temperatures in the fridge to make our homemade M&M’s ice cream freeze faster!

And I most certainly do not want to yell at my kids right now. I do not want to end summer on a bad note; I want to end it on a positive one. I do not want to send them off to school with the last summer memory being mommy yelling at them; I want it to be a happy moment.

Luckily, thanks to The Orange Rhino Challenge, which taught me to create plans for triggers so that I can enjoy more happy and peaceful moments with my kids, I have an idea how to end the summer on the note I wish. The key of course, will be keeping my game plan top of mind so my sadness, anxiety and stress don’t trigger me to yell! The first step is to write down my intentions. Here. Now. And then I will print them out and post them around the house to remind me of my goals for the next few weeks!

In order to Yell Less and Love More as we get ready for Back to School, I plan to:

1. Share my feelings with my kids and encourage them to do the same.
   Bottled up emotions don’t do anyone any good, adults and kids alike! They just fester and then burst out in not so good ways! I need to release them a bit and so do my kids. The challenge is that they probably don’t know how to acknowledge these tough emotions since they are still learning the whole world of emotions. I figure if I share my thoughts in an age appropriate manner, it will help them open up and release some of their feelings. Plus, I can share my positive spin on how I am managing it, i.e., “I am feeling sad the summer is over, but I am grateful for all the fun we had.” Maybe we’ll even draw their feelings or act them out. We love charades and coloring!
2. Focus on the positive.
   Oh how important this is and oh how I struggle with it. Right now I am seeing all the negative stuff about this time of year. I need to flip that around because negative thoughts create negative feelings, which well, can lead to yelling! Starting now I am going to focus on what an awesome summer it was; no more thinking is allowed about what we didn’t do on our summer “wish-list”, just thinking about what we did do this summer! And I am going to focus on how great a more solid routine will be for all of us, how great it will be for my kids to be back with friends, and how much we all love the fall and pumpkin picking. I will also encourage my kids to do the same.

3. Go to bed earlier.
   I too have been fighting bedtime! After the kids go to bed, I sit outside and soak in the peaceful summer night. This is great but then it pushes off what I need to do and, instead of going to bed when I need to, I stay up later. We all pay the price the next morning! A tired mommy equals a cranky mommy. A “more” rested mommy is a more fun and loving mommy.

4. Have lots and lots of tickle fights.
   When I feel the tension rising, despite my efforts put into the above, I will grab a munchkin and start a tickle fight. I always feel better when I laugh and when I hear my kids laugh. That is the fastest way to melt my heart and push all my worries to the back of my mind. And as Wayne Dyer says, “It is impossible for you to be angry and laugh at the same time. Anger and laughter are mutually exclusive and you have the power to choose either.” Yes. I will choose to laugh!

Back to school always opens up the door for back-to-back-to-back yelling in our house. But it doesn’t have to. I am starting this year on a good note because, as a good school friend once told me when I went to school, “You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go…” ― Dr. Seuss, Oh, The Places You’ll Go!

 

 

The Orange Rhino’s new book, “Yell Less, Love More: How The Orange Rhino Mom Stopped Yelling at Her Kids–and How You Can Too!” shares more of my tips on handling different triggers. It is a 30-Day Guide to help others start their own journey to yell less and love more and includes easy steps to follow, 100 alternatives to yelling, and honest stories to inspire. It hits shelves this fall but can be pre-ordered now to guarantee the lowest price! Click here to get your copy and to start your journey to yelling less!

Welcome to the Share Your Story event: Childbirth – Your Stories
This post was written as part of the Share Your Story event hosted by Kids in the House. Our contributors have shared their stories, struggles, and wisdom about the unforgettable yet unpredictable event that is childbirth.

If you have been following me for a while, you know that this is the first time I have participated in an event like this. That said, I have wanted to write about my birth stories of my four boys for ages but never have. When this opportunity came to me it was the nudge I needed and I couldn’t resist. Plus, now you will know about how my four boys came into this world which is a great way to start knowing them before I officially introduce you to them in my book! That and well, unbeknowst to me, each birth story actually reflects one of the core lessons needed to help me stop yelling: Expected the Unexpected.  

* * * * *

During my Orange Rhino Challenge to not yell at my 4 boys for 365 days straight, I discovered that being fully open about my challenges with yelling not only helped me to feel more normal and less alone, but also helped others to feel the same. I share my Childbirth stories below to do the same. I have never been able to share some of these feelings because they were (and are) frowned upon. When I shared them, I was told to be fully grateful and positive for what I did have: healthy babies. And I was. And I am. But I also had other feelings that are okay to feel and necessary to share so that I can be healthy. Bottled up feelings don’t do anyone good!!  

For as long as I can remember, mostly to the fault of cheesy romance movies like Father of the Bride 2, I had high hopes that I would go into labor naturally. I pictured that I would just be going about my life someday, somewhere, and my water would break. I would call my husband all excited, he would come home from work or stop doing whatever it was he was doing and we would start tracking contractions together on the new stopwatch I was instructed to buy. Maybe we would even frantically run around trying to find my overnight bag and every last item we were told to bring to the hospital (warm socks, colorful pillowcase, a special object to focus on during delivery.) And when it was time, we would rush to the hospital together saying, “Oh my gosh! Can you believe this? It’s happening!!!”  Yep, I am totally a hopeless romantic type and nope none of above ever happened.

It didn’t happen with my first pregnancy, or my second, or my third, or my fourth for that matter. And each time my idealized scenario didn’t happen, even though I knew the likelihood was that it wouldn’t and that I was lucky to be pregnant and to have a healthy baby, I still I found myself more disappointed than I would have expected.

My First Childbirth: Well Overdue Baby

I was induced at 42 weeks because my body was nowhere near delivering. Like nowhere at all. Even though I started having contractions en route to the hospital the night before my scheduled induction, the doctor still insisted on an induction because she was concerned that I wouldn’t progress far enough. I was massively disappointed; a planned birth felt so anti-climatic. There was no anticipation just, “okay, check in at 7 and the meds will start the next morning.” Where is the fun and excitement in that?

Even though I was “supposed” to be all cheerful at the anticipation of my first child, and a majority of the time I was, during the last week of pregnancy, I actually found myself quite jealous of all my friends who experienced the spontaneous joy of a natural delivery, and on the last day I felt quite sad that I would be missing out on a ritual that so many women experience. I knew I was about to gain something incredible and yet I couldn’t deny the immense sense of loss I felt. To this day, eight years later, I still have that pang of loss every once and a while when I hear an exciting birth story closer to what I imagined for myself.

My Second Childbirth: Preeclampsia Precautions

I was induced at 40 weeks because my blood pressure skyrocketed and my doctor had medical concerns. You see, that morning my new babysitter texted me and quit because of health reasons (read: I don’t want to take care of two kids under two.) My first son was just 19 months old and we had been living in our new town for just a few months and had no real friends. She was to be my on-call childcare 24/7 starting that day since my parents lived six hours away. Needless to say, of course my heart rate went through the roof from stress and panic…and went even higher when I was ordered to the hospital for an emergency induction and instructed to find immediate childcare for my toddler.

I showed up at the hospital in tears, my toddler in tow, and called all my “new” barely acquaintances to see if they could come hang with my older son until my husband could arrive. Not exactly how I anticipated separating from my toddler before he became not my only son, but my one of two sons. Not exactly how I anticipated, or wanted, my second delivery to go either. I am crying now at the loss of that moment; I had expectations of a sweet, prolonged, “I love you so much” goodbye. Instead he was basically whisked away from me as I was rushed to the heart monitors. I cried as I walked away from my son, disappointed, sad and angry that our goodbye blew and that another not naturally induced labor awaited.

My Third Childbirth: Safe Delivery

Come my third pregnancy, I hit 41 weeks and did start having painful contractions every three to four minutes – but they did nothing and my doctors began to worry that they would suddenly kick in and my third son would just suddenly come out as fast as my first two. With my first pregnancies, my body didn’t respond at all to the induction and then I would scream, discover that I went from 3 cm to 9 cm in 20 minutes, be instructed by my doctor to not laugh, sneeze, move, squeeze until everything was in place, and then I would push twice and pop! Out came my son. No joke. Even though those pregnancies were induced and this one could be natural, I lived 20 minutes from the hospital and had two children to make childcare arrangements for. None of us wanted to take the risk that my sons would deliver their brother, so an induction was scheduled.

This induction was tough as I knowingly planned something that would disappoint me. But by this time I was accustomed to the feelings of loss and disappointment and focused on the more exciting aspect of a planned induction: I got to pick the his birthday this time and being a math nerd, I picked an “almost” palindrome of 09/22/09. That and well this time, I got to say goodbye to my two older sons on my terms, as I wished, as I expected.

My Fourth Childbirth: Breeched Baby
I still held the secret wish and expectation that my fourth and last labor would be as I imagined. But, despite all my praying and pleading and hoping, at 37 weeks my son still remained breached and unless he moved, a C-section would be necessary. After experiencing and fully enjoying three vaginal deliveries (there is just something so amazing about pushing your child into this world,) the idea of a C-section devastated me beyond words. I told my husband I refused to let that happen. Period.

So I tried all the tricks in the book to get him to move. The ear phones against the belly, the sleeping on one side, the this, the that. None of it worked. What did work though? Driving to the hospital for a scheduled “flip” at 37 weeks. No joke, en route, I felt an immense pain. He had flipped on his own! It was flippin’-fantastic!

That said, at my 40-week appointment it was clear that even though he had flipped, his head wasn’t 100% down and there was a small chance that he could get to a position that would make naturally delivery extremely hard given the size of his gargantuan head. So we chose another induction because at that point, that felt less of a disappointment than a C-section. Way less. And it was. By the fourth go around, the induction felt like a blessing, a gift, the best option in the world to me compared to the alternatives.   Maybe the fourth induction felt much more okay because of the circumstances.

Or maybe I accepted it because after five years of parenting I had finally started to embrace the very important parenting lesson being repeatedly taught to me with every induction: things with kids simply do not go as planned. Expect the unexpected and be pleasantly surprised (or be woefully disappointed and so frustrated that you find yourself yelling more than you like!)

Or maybe it felt okay because the previous childbirths had hammered home a very important point that I got to (get to) live each and every day. A lot of dreams, and hopes, and expectations, and not just about naturally induced labors, didn’t get met during my pregnancy and childbirth journeys. But one did. The most important one.

I became a mom.
I. Became. A. Mom.  

Each time one of my sons was born and I heard his cry, a cry that immediately connected me to him in a way that I just can not begin to explain, and then I held him in my arms and found myself falling in love faster than I knew possible, the sadness, disappointment, loss and jealously I felt intensely for the last few days, melted away. It no longer mattered to me how my son came into my life, because he did. And I was a mom. A mom who had dreamed and imagined how much love she would feel when her child was born; a mom who felt love in a way that she never, ever could have expected.

 

In honor of my Facebook post last night which read: {New Tip for Bedtime} 
Tried something new tonight as not yelling has been hard, hard, hard lately I brought my water bottle to bedtime with me. I carried it around at all times, you know, like a lovey?! When I was frustrated, I took a sip of the cold water to cool down, literally and mentally. When drinking, I can’t yell and I have to slow down. Two upsides: (1) kids got sips throughout bedtime and didn’t need water when tucked in and (2) I didn’t yell. Downside: When I finally settled in to bed with my 4th child to read with him, I realized I desperately had to pee but that I was also wiped from the day/night and had no desire to get up. It made for an uncomfortable story time, but hey, I’ll take it as I will go to bed feeling much more comfortable with how I handled bedtime!

*

Originally posted September 2013

When I loaded the boys into the mini-van for our four-hour drive north last month, I assumed that no one would sleep and that we would need to stop every hour for someone to go pee. I mean assuming anything else was just setting myself up to be frustrated and annoyed, right?! So I mentally prepared myself for a long trek with lots of noise and lots of stops. That doesn’t mean that I didn’t try to make a peaceful, quick trip happen though! Yep, I had everyone try to pee twice before we left and I timed our departure with naptime for #3 and #4.

Well wouldn’t you know it. Within fifteen minutes of driving, not one, not two, not three, but ALL FOUR of my boys were sleeping! And wouldn’t you know it, an hour and a half later they were all still sleeping! Which is great, right? Miraculous even. Well yes, and no.

No because I had drunk a cup coffee to stay awake and had forgotten to try and pee twice myself! Yes, this mama had to pee wicked bad and there was absolutely, positively no way in hell I was going to pull over and wake up four sleeping kids to pee. Nope, wasn’t gonna happen. I didn’t even entertain the idea! You couldn’t have paid me to pull over and end my quiet, peaceful and easy drive up north. Sure I had to pee so badly that I had stomach cramps but the downside to that was far less than the upside of my boys not yelling at each other, asking me “are we there yet?” over and over, and complaining that they had nothing to do.  Pulling over just wasn’t an option. And then again, peeing in my pants wasn’t really an appealing option either.

So I did what I think most parents would do in said situation; my boys slept and I squirmed.

And I crossed my legs. And I squeezed. And I looked out the window for distractions. And I tried to think about everything but peeing. And I told myself over and and over “that I can do this, just a little bit longer, I can do this.”

And then, well then I had an Orange Rhino moment and I laughed so hard at my absolute ridiculousness that I had to squeeze even harder because after four natural births, well, you know, sometimes pee happens.

You see it donned on me at that moment that learning to hold pee and learning to hold a yell are very similar.

They both take paying attention to signals that you are about to explode and then acting accordingly to avoid said explosion.

They both take focus and putting mind over matter.

They both take practice and doing it over and over so you can go longer and longer.

They both take distractions so that you don’t think of the strong desire to do said action.

They both take positive thinking, telling yourself over and over that you can do it.

They both take choosing to do all of the above no matter how hard because the alternative is not really a desired option.

And they are both behaviors that can be learned and achieved over time!

Seriously, all ridiculousness aside and the fact that it is a wee bit crazy that I compared not yelling to not peeing in one’s pants, just think about the similarities. It is kind of uncanny, right? When I stopped and realized the similarities (which by the way was a great distraction and kept my mind occupied on something besides the growing need to pee my brains out), I couldn’t help but to think,

“Wow, all the skills that I thought I developed to not yell I didn’t really just develop, I already had them and had them since I was a child when I got potty trained! I just applied them to a new situation.”

My point in sharing this story and risking looking like a total fool for comparing something as difficult and personal as learning to not yell to something as trivial as not peeing in one’s pants is this: you already have some of the skills to yell less. You already know how to work hard to control yourself physically.

Yes, the desire to yell is a heck of a lot more intense and frustrating; it’s a heck of a lot more anger filled and most definitely a heck of lot more emotionally charged. I am not in any way trying to diminish that. I guess what I am trying to say in a most absurd but also light way to combat the heaviness of yelling as a topic is that…

You can do it.

You can yell less.

You have the skills within you already. You just need to apply them in a slightly different manner. Here’s how:

1. Pay attention to your personal signals that a yell is coming on so that when you feel them the next time you know to run to the bathroom and scream in the toilet instead of exploding at the kids.
2. Focus all your energy on one task, one goal, that of yelling less. Focusing on too many goals at once is too much stress!
3. Practice not yelling over and over again. Accidents happen, trust me, since my fourth son was born I have had two. Totally mortifying. But hey, it happened and I learned that I need to focus harder on not laughing on a full bladder! So if an accident does happen and you do yell, forgive yourself. Let the shame and embarrassment go and know that there will be another opportunity to practice and succeed.
4. Set yourself up for success by placing distractions around the house, or rather reminders to not yell. Place pictures of the kids in yell zones (great way to feel love not anger) and place orange rhinos up to remember to be warm and calm.
5. Be positive and believing in you; tell yourself over and over that, “I can be calm and not yell.”
6. Choose to not yell because you know not only does yelling not work, but that is just isn’t a good option. Choose to hold it together, to squirm, and to squeeze your hands in frustration instead of yelling. Choose to try your hardest even on days when you want to scream your brains out.
7. Tell yourself that you are learning to yell less and that it takes time, just like potty training. I know wasn’t born knowing how to hold my pee or um, other things. Just ask my parents or the nice couple at the beach sharing a romantic picnic. I may or may not have walked over to them totally naked at age two and squatted on their blanket and left them a present. Like, a smelly one. Moving right along…. Seriously, it takes time to learn how to not yell but it can be done!

Okay, it’s official. This post is weird. I just told you that I pooped on a blanket as a kid and that I have pee accidents at the age of thirty something. If nothing else is achieved from this post, I hope you are laughing with me. Because laughter is a great way to be in a good space to achieve all of the above!

Happy holding your yells (and pees!)

Learn how to hold a “yell” with my 30-day guide, “Yell Less, Love More: How The Orange Rhino Mom Stopped Yelling at Her Kids and How You Can Too!” It hits shelves in October 2014 but you can pre-order it now so that you are one of the first to receive it! Click here to pre-order. 

 

This post originally appeared on July 10, 2013. This week, my boys and I are at the same beach I write of in this post. Things are going more as planned, which made me naturally think of this post when things were not going as planned as all. 

Well, once again, this is not the post I intended to write tonight. Nope, not at all.
That seems to be the theme lately: not doing what I expected to be doing.
That was certainly the case last week on vacation.

Did I expect to spend the first three days in the rain? Nope. I mean sure, one day of rain, or some drops here and there, but most certainly not three days of thunderstorms.

Did I expect to find our normally quiet, spacious beach overcrowded because the beach one block over was getting filled in as a result of Hurricane Sandy? Nope. And when I say overcrowded, I mean so much so that if one of my boys even flinched I feared they would get sand on a stranger.

Did I expect to have not one, not two, not three, but four kids all not sleep through the night, every night? Nope. Of course I expected one or two, and I expected early risings, but for all to not sleep through, seriously?

Did I expect to discover our favorite breakfast place would have the same great food and view but awfully mean and hungover college boys instead of sweet and caring college girls who helped with the kids? Nope. I know wait staff changes, but after many a long night I so longed for a little help at breakfast besides the caffeine jolt from my coffee.

Did I expect to call 911 at 4:30 in the morning because I was convinced someone was in the house?

Oh wait, that wasn’t on vacation; that wasn’t last week. That was last night, or I guess this morning. I think I am still shaking and still traumatized by the whole thing. The baby cried out at 4:30. He quickly settled and then I heard footsteps. Then I heard what sounded like toys banging around. I waited in bed, my heart already racing, trying to figure out my next move as my husband was traveling. I decided it must just be #2 up early (he doesn’t sleep well). I waited for the sound to stop. It didn’t. So I grabbed the bat and went out into the hall. I checked all the kids’ rooms. All the lights were off; the rooms were quiet and the beds full. Then…

BANG!

The metal baby get at the bottom of the stairs crashed. I looked downstairs and saw lights on and heard even more noise and even more footsteps. I ran to my bedroom and called 911.

“Hello! Quick, hurry. Send someone to my house. I think someone is downstairs.”

“Hold on ma’am, where are you. Tell me what you hear. Police are on their way.”

“Someone is downstairs. I know it. I know it. Please there are footsteps and noise. Hurry! Hurry!”

I told her everything I could as quietly as I could. I prayed the baby didn’t wake and cry out again. The last thing I wanted was my four boys to wake up and get attention. The last thing I wanted was to be found, so I tried so hard to stay calm and not let my tears of absolute fear be heard. It was near impossible.

“Did you call out downstairs, to see if anyone answered?”

“No, I was too afraid. Please, hurry, hurry. I am so scared!” I sobbed. And I mean sobbed. I have never been so scared in my life. Visions of an intruder ran through my head as the banging continued. The beautiful calm voice came kept reassuring me as I continued to sob hysterically. A mere minute or two into the call, or rather an eternity if you ask me, she said:

“Okay, six officers are at your house and have surrounded the perimeter. Just stay on the line with me. You are going to be okay….Okay, the officers are walking around your house. Stay with me.”

“Please, please, tell them to come in. I can give you the garage code….”

“Ma’am, the officers see someone in your house. Stay calm. Okay, someone with a red shirt is walking around. It is a child. With blonde hair.” She matter-of-factly reported to me.

“THAT’s MY SON!” I bawled.

I threw the phone and ran downstairs.  I saw my sweet oldest standing in pitch black in the kitchen. I dropped to my knees faster than I ever have and let out the biggest sob of my life so far.

“You scared me! You scared me so much! I thought you were someone trying to hurt our family. I am so scared. Do you see how scared I am?” I said calmly-ish. Repeat, I said calmly-ish. I didn’t yell.

Flashlights flickered in every corner of the house. I opened the back door to a policeman and once again started bawling. I finally let out a breath; I don’t think I had really breathed for the last five or so minutes.

“It’s my son sir. My son.”

“What happened little guy?” The policeman asked so very nicely and reassuringly.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry mommy. I woke up and had a bad dream so I snuck downstairs to get something to eat. I think I will go back to bed now.”

“Sweetheart. Oh sweetheart. I am just so glad you are okay. This is why I have told you that we don’t go downstairs without an adult in the morning. This is why we stay in our rooms. Oh #1, you scared me so much.”

And on that note he shook his head quietly with understanding and turned and walked upstairs and went to bed as I apologized to the police officer and the other five of them waiting at the front door. I felt embarrassed to have made such a foolish mistake. I felt embarrassed that I didn’t think to pull back every cover in the kid’s room. I felt embarrassed that I was standing in the ugliest summer (ie. less cloth) pajama’s ever and that I hadn’t even thought to put on a robe to cover up what was hanging out, eh hem.

All six officers reassured me that I did the right thing; that this has happened before and it is better safe than sorry. I knew they were right but still, I feel a little silly today. Kind of.

I also feel a little proud. Just like I felt a little proud on vacation. Before The Orange Rhino Challenge, when something went awry and not as planned, I would get all bent out of shape. Beach closed? I would complain for two days, be a grump and be ripe to yell. Kids not sleeping? I would suggest packing up and going home and in the meanwhile, I would snap at the kids incessantly. Kid scaring the crap out of me? I would scare the crap out of him by screaming in his face.

Yes, before I taught myself to stop yelling, before I realized that I should expect to be triggered to yell big time by things not going as expected, I didn’t handle myself well at all when things went awry. In fact, I would get into such a funk that I either ruined a moment or missed out on an opportunity all together. The Orange Rhino Challenge hasn’t just taught me to yell less and love my kids more, it has helped me to love life more. I loved vacation – despite all the unexpected hiccups because I have taught myself to expect and accept the unexpected. Even my husband noted how calm I was compared to past reactions to similar situations. And last night was no different. I loved my son more than I would have in the past if faced with such a scenario because I have practiced handling the unexpected more gracefully.

My son saw fear in my face last night; not anger. My son felt love in my hug, not aggression. And as a result (or as I like to think) he heard every lesson I needed to teach him loud and clear…all without me getting loud.

I didn’t expect for my son to be the intruder in my house last night, but it taught him several great lessons. And I also didn’t expect The Orange Rhino Challenge to change me so much, to have taught me so many great lessons.

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Learn more about how The Orange Rhino Challenge changed me beyond learning to not yell in my book, “Yell Less, Love More: How The Orange Rhino Mom Stopped Yelling at Her Kids and How You Can Too!” It will hit shelves October 1st, but you can pre-order it by clicking here (the link will take you to my Publisher’s page where all the online resources for the book are listed).

This post first appeared on The Huffington Post as part of their Father’s Day Series. 

This is quite possibly the email I get most often from people who have just heard about The Orange Rhino Challenge, my promise to go 365 days straight without yelling at my boys.

Dear Orange Rhino,

I am inspired by your story and how you stopped yelling. It gives me hope that maybe I too can change and stop yelling at my kids, but I really am afraid it’s too late. I have yelled for so long that I doubt I will really be able to change. And I fear that because I yelled for so long, the damage is so great that not yelling now won’t even make a difference in our relationship. Help!

Without fail, every time I receive an email like this, I get all choked up because not only do I know all too well the “it’s too late” fears — but also, the email reminds me of a painful time in my relationship with my dad when lots of “damage” threatened our future. As a gift for my dad this Father’s Day (an odd gift, I know, but trust me, it’s a good one), and as a way to offer hope that it isn’t too late to stop yelling, I share this story with you.

* * * * *I never yelled at him.
I just stopped talking to him.
For three years.

For three whole years I didn’t talk to my father because I felt so angry and hurt from the huge, gigantic argument we had the day before I started my sophomore year of college. He tried to fix things by sending funny cards “just because,” by calling me to check in, by bribing me with a free meal at my favorite restaurant which he promised (and I knew) would taste infinitely better than cafeteria food. But I refused. I refused to talk to him and I refused to forgive him for our moral disagreement. I felt the damage had been done — that it was too late to reconcile, too late to make a better future. So I just didn’t talk to him.

About three years after college, I became engaged. At that point in my life, my dad and I had just started to share short exchanges. But our relationship still felt volatile enough, and my anger and hurt still felt large enough, that I worried — no, feared — that I wouldn’t even let my dad come to my wedding. In fact, I spent my entire engagement fearing that our past would prevent my childhood dream of my daddy walking me down the aisle from happening. Thanks to the support and urging of my now husband (and a lot of telling myself, “it’s not too late”), my dad and I reconciled and reconnected enough that come my wedding, my fear that my dad wouldn’t be there subsided.

And then January 2nd happened.

The night before my wedding, despite the fact that everything seemed good — like really, really, miraculously good — my dad abruptly left a family gathering and went back to the hotel. I of course immediately feared and assumed that he wasn’t just going to the hotel, but rather packing up and heading out. My dad’s best friend, who knew all the history, saw the tears form in my eyes and the color quickly leave my face, and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll go check on him. It will be OK.”

I didn’t believe my dad’s friend for one second. As I stood in the corner of the restaurant, trying to smile and feel happy, I couldn’t help but think to myself, “I knew it was too good to be true; I knew the past was too bad to overcome.” Fortunately, my dad’s friend returned smiling and practically laughing and said to me: “Sweetie, your dad is fine. He’s in bed and he isn’t going anywhere. Especially because he has the runs! And he feels like he is going to throw up because he is so excited, nervous and sad that his baby girl is all grown up, that you are getting married tomorrow, that you forgave him enough for him to be here and to walk you down the aisle. It’s just a lot for him. But he’s OK. It will be OK.”

And it was OK.

The next morning I walked down the stairs of my childhood home to see my future husband crying. My dad stood behind him, crying as well. I stood in front of both of them, bawling my eyes out, and then wiping my eyes madly, totally forgetting that I had just spent an hour getting make-up on! Oh well. Smeared mascara didn’t matter at that moment. I was getting married to an awesome man and the other awesome man in my life, my dad, had made it.

And not only did he make it, but he also got me to the church in time to walk me down the aisle! We weren’t a minute late — and it turned out that, despite my fears, it wasn’t too late for my dad and me to share good moments and good memories again, either. That day, as we stood together at the back of the church, waiting patiently for my ring bearer to help my flower girl diligently place the rose petals one by one by one, we laughed together at the anal-retentive behavior so well known to both of us. We stood together and admired the beautiful details of the historical church, sharing our appreciation for architecture, a passion he passed on to me that I am now passing on to my boys.

We stood together and finally had a moment of peace.

It wasn’t too late for us, for our relationship.

It wasn’t too late for us to repair our father/daughter bond and find joy again. For so long I assumed that because of the “damage” that had been done a few years prior, my dad and I would never share another laugh, another story, another peaceful moment. I assumed that it was simply too late and that it wasn’t even worth trying to make amends because no matter how many new, good moments we might share, they would never outweigh the past bad moments enough for our relationship to feel OK instead of negative and volatile. I assumed that our future held nothing but more anger, more hurt and more bad interactions.

But I was wrong.

I was woefully, woefully wrong in my assumption that it was too late.

I am so grateful that despite the past my dad and I shared, and despite our fears that a better future might not happen, we still tried to change our future. Because that moment in the back of the church with my dad, well, it was nothing short of unforgettable — exactly what I had always imagined and hoped it to be. Did that moment of peace make me forget the past or feel better about it? No, of course not! But, it did make me feel a tiny bit better and give me the courage to move on from the past and continue to work to change our future. My goal isn’t to forget the past (can’t do that!), but rather to fill my heart with enough new, loving memories that they, and not the angry ones from the past, take precedence in my heart and mind.

It has been 10 years since I stood at the back of that church with my dad. Since then, we have shared many a beautiful moment. My anger has softened and my mind now truly focuses on the positive moments in our relationship, like when my dad held my first son, when I called him laughing because I had just vacuumed up an unpeeled banana from my minivan, when… well, I could go on and on and on as our life is now full of good moments. Did it a take a while for us to get beyond the past, beyond just one peaceful moment — to reach a truly peaceful place? Yes. But we got there. It was not too late.

* * * * *Kicking my “it’s too late” mentality to the side and going after what I wanted — my dad in my life — didn’t just make my wedding day and my future with my dad better; it also made my future with my four sons better. Often during the early days of The Orange Rhino Challenge, when I found myself struggling and wanting to quit because I felt it was too late to stop yelling and that my kids would always remember the awful times I had yelled in the past, I would find myself thinking of my wedding day and that moment at the back of the church. The moment I thought might never happen because it was “too late” and the past was “too negative.” The moment that didhappen because it wasn’t too late. The moment that has become a powerful reminder to me not to quit or give up because, as I learned with my dad (and later re-learned on my successful Orange Rhino journey to stop yelling), it is never too late to change the future.

“Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.” -Carl Bard

* * * * *The Orange Rhino’s (a.k.a. Sheila McCraith’s) parenting guide and memoir, Yell Less, Love More: How The Orange Rhino Mom Stopped Yelling at Her Kids — and How You Can Too!, shares more touching personal stories from her journey to stop yelling as well as manageable actions, practical tips, and genuine, loving support so that you too can succeed on your own journey to yell less. Her book is available for pre-order now and goes on sale October 1, 2014. To learn more about The Orange Rhino Challenge, go to www.TheOrangeRhino.com

Check out my interview on Huffington Post Live talking about this post:

 

 

I am in a funk.
And I am fairly certain that I have no clue whatsoever as to why I am in said funk.
And I am more than fairly certain that said funk is making it woefully difficult to not yell.

Like, really, really difficult.

Because I am in a mood. I am present, but not. I am happy, but not. I am sad, but not. I am around and here and “doing” what I need to be “doing” but I feel this little I don’t know what “it” is, nagging at me, leaving me feeling just off. And again, really wanting to yell

…at all the noise (I swear my almost three year old, who just “found” his voice is louder than his older three brothers…combined!)

…at all the clutter (hello, end of the year school papers!)

…at all the whining that comes from water fights (yes, dear son, if you squirt your brother he will get you back, twofold.)

…at all the not listening that comes with spring fever/end of the year fever. (Okay, it is mostly coming from the fact that I am in a funk and not communicating as effectively as I can.) 

…at all the lost shoes that are needed to get out of the door on time but have disappeared into the great outdoors during water fights

…and well, at my kids, totally unnecessarily.

When I figured this funk had started settling in, my first thought was (and advance warning to the men for this statement), “well of course it is! It’s that time of month!” But then that time of month didn’t happen and I realized my count was off and well, that I couldn’t blame my crankiness on the calendar. Blech. Bummer. That is such an easy thing to blame and a readily acceptable one. It comes. It goes. Funk be gone; yelling less and loving more becomes easier again just like that!

No lie, I was totally bummed to not have the “calendar” as my scapegoat especially since my funk was growing and growing and with it my desire to yell. My husband ever so innocently and lovingly said to me this past weekend, “Babe, what’s up? You are crankier and snappier and more distant with all of us. What’s going on?” I roared back, okay, not roared but really snapped back in a rather annoyed way,

“Get off my back! If I knew, I would fix it and wouldn’t be as cranky! Besides, I am well aware I am cranky and I am working on it. I don’t exactly like being this way you know. It’s not fun!”

And that was the truth. All of it–not just the not liking being cranky (who does, right?!) but also that I was working on it. Because I am. Every. Single. Day. Here is how my new “Orange Rhino” mind is operating right now at any given tense moment to help me figure life out so that I get on a less cranky path.

* * * * *

Me: I just “oopsie-snapped” at kids.
Orange Rhino Mind (ORM): Why did you do that? Did they deserve it?

Me: No. I’m just cranky.
ORM: Why are you cranky?

Me: I don’t know. Leave me alone!
ORM: No, I won’t stop pushing you because you know that if you don’t figure out what is silently eating at you, your crankiness will grow, it will be come a trigger and you’ll yell and you don’t want that.

Me: Okay fine. I’ll think about it but really, I’ve been thinking about it for days now and I just can’t figure out what is eating at me.
ORM: Okay, let’s go through the list of things you know you need to do for you to be in a good place. You know, the basics you learned on your Orange Rhino Challenge that need to be taken care of so you are best apt to not yell. Ready? Are you tired?

Me: No. I am actually sleeping better lately. (Side bar: We’ve been sleeping on my husband’s bed from high school. It’s what, 20 years old? Got a new mattress. Oh. My. Gosh. Get a new mattress today people! Life changer! I wake up rested and don’t have to stretch my “getting old joints” to move!)

ORM: Is it lack of exercise?
Me: Nope. Not that either. I have a new exercise regime going and I feel great.

ORM: Are you hanging out with friends, you know, socializing and laughing and connecting with adults?
Me: Yeah, more than usual.

ORM: Are you stressed?
Me: Yes. No doubt. But I know that, it isn’t nagging at me. And it’s good stress.

ORM: So what the heck is your problem then girl?! What’s driving the funk? (Okay, it doesn’t say that. I say that.)
Me: I don’t know but I have to – and really want to – figure it out because I know it is driving me closer and closer to yelling.

* * * * *

As I sit here writing this, I fina-friggin-ly feel like I have clarity. Yee-haw!

I learned on The Orange Rhino Challenge that when I find myself wanting to yell unnecessarily at the kids way more than usual, that I need to stop “blaming” them as the reason I want to yell, but instead point the blaming finger at myself. When I get to that point, I do what I wrote above. I drill and drill and drill myself with “Why?” questions until I figure out what is really bothering me. I always know I have hit the real issue at hand when my stomach (or is it body or mind, I don’t know) goes, “Aha! This feels right.” I no longer feel the need to question myself.

Well, that feeling just happened.

Do you know what I am not doing, or rather haven’t done lately from my “Taking Care of Me List,” the list that keeps me from being in a place where I want to yell, yell, yell?

I haven’t relaxed. I haven’t stopped. I haven’t breathed. I haven’t slowed down. I haven’t done anything for me. I haven’t taken care of me and that is ESSENTIAL to my being in a calm place so that yelling isn’t a desire (okay, or at least the natural desire!)

And do you know what else I haven’t done?

I haven’t connected with my boys, like really, really connected, laughed, and just hung out with my boys.

There are real good reasons I haven’t done the above two things. Life has been tough these last few weeks, for my boys and me. Nothing major, just a little more tough than usual. Tough on our schedules, tough on our mental states, tough on our ability to enjoy downtime – both together and apart.

And do you know what else is tough?

Breaking this pattern and getting to bed earlier than early so I am extra rested so that I have the mental clarity and strength tomorrow to push myself to take me time and extra kid time; to push myself to slow down so that I can keep up. We both need it. Rather, all five, no six (husband included, mustn’t forget him). But I am going to break this pattern because not only do I want to kiss this current funk goodbye so that I can enjoy the water fights in the perfect spring days even more, but also because I know where these funks lead me. And let me tell you, it’s not to Orange Rhino Land where I yell less and love more, but it’s more like to grey(ish) rhino land where I get way to close to charging with my words and then go to bed feeling guilty that I wasn’t the parent I wanted to be that day.

The good news? I am already on the way to breaking the pattern because I finally identified the issues and can create a plan to work on them. Knowing is half the battle, right?! Oh, and more good news?

Taking care of me doesn’t have to be a thirty-minute break – it can be as simple as 5 minutes sitting in the sun with my eyes closed pretending that I am at the beach just listening to the ocean.  Yep, totally doing that tomorrow and totally asking my husband if I can slip out to get some orange toe nails vis-à-vis a pedicure this weekend. Doesn’t hurt to ask, right?!

Nope, never hurts to ask. Shoot, all the asking of myself, got me to a better place already!

* * * *

Want to learn about other strategies and tips I now use to keep me from yelling? Check out my book, “Yell Less, Love MoreHow The Orange Rhino Mom Stopped Yelling at Her Kids and How You Can Too!” due out October 1st! Find it at your favorite book store and pre-order it today so you are one of the first to have it in the fall!

So supposedly May 1^st of every year is “National Save the Rhino Day.” I did a little Googling to see if this was indeed true, and wouldn’t you know, it is! (Which is great because it is an important cause!) The exact origin of the day is under question (lots of different opinions) but they all seem to agree on one core goal: to use the day to spread awareness about how Rhinos are greatly endangered. Which got me thinking…

What would a “National Save The ORANGE Rhino Day” be about? What would the goal be? Let’s see. First off, I have deemed Orange Rhinos to be: determined and energetic people who choose not to charge with words, but instead choose to remain calm, loving, and warm when provoked or triggered. (Gray rhinos are naturally calm animals that charge when provoked. Add the color orange which symbolizes warmth and positive energy and voila, The Orange Rhino.)

So saving Orange Rhinos would be about spreading awareness that one can become an Orange Rhino; it would be about protecting the hope so that people don’t stop (or don’t even start) to try and change their yelling behavior, but instead keep on trying to yell less and love more. It would be about keeping The Orange Rhino Community not just alive, but also growing by spreading a few key messages to help people be Orange Rhinos. The messages might read (and would obviously be surrounded by some wicked cool graphics by someone besides myself)…

Save the yells for… your closet, or any other inanimate object; they don’t have feelings, kids do!
My first few weeks of learning to not yell were tough and not just because yelling was my go to, but also because I had no real game plan on how to physically make myself not yell! One day I felt a yell coming and without thinking I turned and yelled into my closet. It was liberating! I let the yell out – just not at my kids! After a few days of yelling into my closet –  and many other inanimate objects like the kitchen cupboards, the freezer, the toilet, the car – I realized that (a) I felt ridiculous and didn’t want to keep that up and (b) that if I could control myself enough to turn and yell, I could then control myself enough to turn away, yell and let out just an “AHHH” instead of mean words. And if I could do that, I could turn and not let out anything at all! And if I could do that, well, then I would eventually not have to turn away at all, but I could control myself while still keeping eye contact with my kiddos. This was a big “aha!” and a very useful tool to help me officially start kicking yelling to the curb.

 

 

 

 

 

Save the yells for… when you really need them…in emergencies!
When I used to yell often, instead of actually getting my kids attention, it became harder to get my kids attention! They were just so used to the raised voice in certain situations that it was like in Charlie Brown cartoons – all my kids heard was, “wah, wah, wah!” So when I was at my most frequent yelling phase, when emergencies really hit – needing my boys to stop and not run into the street, needing the phone to call daddy urgently, needing my boys to not talk so that I could hear Grandma on the phone – well, when those moments hit and I really wanted my kids attention and so I yelled, they ignored me. Now, however, oh one the biggest and bestest benefits of not yelling is that when it is a true legitimate emergency – #2 cracking head open and needing an ambulance, #4 having a seizure and needing emergency medicines and an ambulance, a stranger at the door who started walking around the house – if I raise my voice, my kids get it. I get through. They don’t hear “wah, wah, wah,” they hear, “Mommy needs help now. I need to listen.” Just knowing that the less I yell unnecessarily means the more powerful my voice is when I really, really, really need it to helps me save those yucky yells from coming out.

Save the yells for… when you really want them…in good times!
It feels awesome to let out a big “YAHOOO!” when I get good news, when a son achieves a milestone, when we achieve something together like making the absolutely perfect paper airplane. And it feels even more awesome when I have my voice and the energy to do so because I haven’t been yelling so much that I feel so physically and emotionally beat down that I can’t let out a good ‘ole fashioned scream for joy. When I used to yell, ugh, it just made me feel so crappy at times that it was hard to see the joy right in front of me at the moment. I much prefer to keep all my loud, obnoxious yells for fun times (like when the Red Sox beat the New York Yankees, eh hem, or when my son poops in the potty instead of on the carpet…again.)

Save the yells for… when you schedule them!
All of the above said, but, let’s face it, sometimes, a primal scream is just what is needed to release the stress, the hurt, the anger, the sadness, the whatever yuck one feels. I learned that if I hold it together too long and don’t release the yuck, I will just explode vis-à-vis yelling…at my kids or my husband. So now sometimes I schedule that explosion (a tip from a fellow Orange Rhino, and I love it!) I say to my kids, “hey, lets run around the park screaming and having fun!” Needless to say they LOVE it and I do to. It’s great to not yell, and it’s great to bond and have fun with my boys…and to do something I used to love doing as a kid. It is so freeing! Added bonus – it gets my boys’ yells out of their systems before they explode and trigger me to want to yell even more!

Save the yells for a friend…someone who will really listen and respond positively.
Okay, kind of joking here, mostly not. I learned that when I yelled at my kids, they didn’t really respond in a supportive manner. They didn’t really respond how I wanted. They didn’t really get that I was yelling because I was (fill in the blank)…frustrated, overwhelmed, sad, stressed, pms’ing. Friends, friends, however do. If I call a friend and just start venting, she gets it. And she listens. And she responds. And it is a positive exchange that moves me forward, not backwards. Yelling at my boys always moved be WAY backwards and often made the situation worse.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Save the yells for your sanity… so you feel calmer and the calmness spreads.
I readily admit that before The Orange Rhino Challenge I wouldn’t have described myself as calm, per say. But now, now I would. Okay, at least more than I would before. When I am calm, when calm oozes out of my actions and my voice, it spreads. Calmness is contagious. My kids respond infinitely better when I am calm; they listen better, they respond better, they act kinder, they are well, just calmer! Which makes me calmer, which makes their brothers calmer, which makes me calmer. Calmness spreads and keeps yells away. When I am agitated, however, well, that spreads too – but it invites yells to come and hang out for hours, if not days!  I remind myself of this nugget, of the power of calm, when I want to yell and wouldn’t you know, it helps me find calm!

Save the yells for yourself…put the anger where it belongs!
This is another kidding, mostly not poster idea. I am not talking about literally looking in the mirror and screaming at yourself. Nah. That is just cruel and would make matters worse! But I am talking about pointing the finger at yourself – and not your kids – when you know the source of your anger is something in your life and not because of the kids’ behavior. When I know “it’s not you, it’s me” is driving my desire to yell, I stop and say to myself, “Hey lady, you don’t want to yell at the kids because they won’t clean up, you want to yell because you have too much to do and are frustrated that you overfilled your plate again!” Re-directing the anger to the right spot works wonders in saving yells from happening!

And when you can’t save the yells – borrow forgiveness, borrow patience, and borrow love for yourself and save yourself from unnecessary guilt and self-ridicule. Parenting is not about perfection; it’s about progress. It’s about yelling less; it’s about saving the yells one moment, one yell at a time. And the only way to do that, the only way to keep The Orange Rhino community alive and growing, is if we all forgive ourselves, find patience with ourselves, and love ourselves when we a yell slips out. Not all yells will be saved – celebrate when they are and celebrate when you don’t quit on a hard day, but try again.

So now this post has me thinking…maybe a “National Save The Orange Rhino Day” should happen?!  (And please, please, please know that this post is by no means knocking the importance of the real day, because that too is very important!)

* * * * *
I talk more in-depth about these “messages” I rely on to save myself from yelling my book, “Yell Less, Love More: How The Orange Rhino Mom Stopped Yelling at Her Kids and How You Can too!” which is due out this September! You can pre-order it now though by clicking here!