This morning my seven-year-old intentionally knocked over his brother’s full cup of milk. Totally awesome, right?! I politely said to him, “You know where the paper towel is.” He then not so politely screamed at me, “You are a BEAST!” Seeing as we haven’t really been, um, shall we say bonding lately, and rather have been at absolute odds with each other, I immediately thought (okay, assumed) that he had just called me not a beast, but a b*tch.

“What did you just say to me?” I asked abruptly.

“You’re a beast! A beast, beast, beast! Just like the mom in Brave! You always make me pick up my messes! And besides, I didn’t knock the cup over. It fell over!”

Oh, oh was I ever tempted to reply with a sarcastic dinger or two given the current frustrating state of our relationship. But I didn’t. Thankfully the “more” mature side of my mind showed up and prevented me from saying, “Oh, cups just fall over, eh?” and “Really, that’s amazing because I swore I just saw your five fingers reach out and push the cup over and then saw your eyes twinkle when the milk poured all over your brother.” Seriously, it’s such a good thing those thoughts didn’t sneak out because they would have totally escalated the situation and that was the last thing I needed this morning.

Shoot, it is the last thing I need to happen at all right now with my oldest. We have already escalated our vicious cycle of driving each other nuts to the highest level of insanity. Everything I say, he complains about. Everything he does, I complain about. It is getting ugly folks, really ugly. The good news? I recognize that we are in a bad cycle and that soon I will be screaming my head off at him if I don’t get things under control. The other good news? After having been through several of these cycles I know that I have the power to put an end to this cycle simply by offering more love and less, well beastliness. I know from experience that often times when my son is acting pretty beastly himself that it isn’t because he intentionally wants to be a beast, it is because he wants me.

He wants my love.
He wants my attention.
He wants to see me more.
He wants me to listen with more focus and less distraction.
He wants me to understand whatever it is that is troubling him that he doesn’t understand.
He wants me to just stop harping on him and just start hugging him.

And that is where the bad news comes in; even though I know that my son wants (and needs and deserves) all of the above, even though I want to give him all of the above, and even though all of the above aren’t big or hard requests to fulfill, I have found it hard to do any of the above! Say what? I love my son; hugging him should be easy. I love my son; stopping and just talking with him and not to him should be easy. I love my son; laughing with him and enjoying his company should be easy. Yes, it should be easy but right now this particular cycle has been so challenging and his behavior has been so infuriating that I am finding it hard to get motivated to grow up! It sounds awful, but I have thought on more than one occasion lately, “Ugh, dude, I so don’t want to be kinder to you and more patient and all that jazz because you are driving me nutso!”

This fairly constant thought though is getting me, us, nowhere but to a worse place: he pisses me off so I piss him off so he pisses me off more so I piss him off more. It’s miserable! I am not happy with where our relationship is; it makes every day insanely longer and more difficult and well, more discouraging! I mean, who likes fighting and bickering? Who likes feeling like a bad parent? “Not I,” said this mom.

So, after another round of less than satisfactory exchanges at dinner, I decided that tonight was the night I had to try to put an end to this cycle. I got his younger three brothers into bed and headed towards his room. Now mind you, at this point, I was wiped, done, and so ready to go downstairs and claim “me-time.” I just wanted to clean up the kitchen, prepare for the next day and then plop in front of my computer to read all the latest gossip on People.com while sipping a, get this, HOT cup of decaf coffee without interruption. As much as I wanted to tuck my son in and give him a hug and kiss good night, I really didn’t want to make it a prolonged event tonight. I just wanted it to be sweet, loving and well, intentionally quick.

But tonight, I knew that if I wanted to put an end to all the beastliness between us, that if I wanted to get my son and me to a more connected and happy place that an intentionally quick bedtime wasn’t an option. Nope, the only option was an intentionally long bedtime. So I, a very tired and very much craving down time parent, fought all the “just go the f*** to sleep already thoughts” and intentionally chose to make bedtime longer tonight. I took a deep breath and walked into his room prepared to snuggle and talk with him until he fell asleep, whether that meant 15 minutes or 45 minutes.

As I cuddled up with my munchkin and smoothed his hair, he told me that, “Well, the truth is, to be totally honest, I am scared to tell Melissa that I love her.” He also told me that, “I am actually really starting to like math but I can’t stand writing and well, I love reading.” And upon my telling him I was sorry for being so beastly that day he told me, “It’s okay mom. I accept your apology. We all make mistakes. You know mom, you just need to be careful because, like, you know, once words are out they can’t be taken back.” That’s right sweet little orange rhino, that’s right.

I proudly kissed his forehead and as he started tossing and turning, trying to get comfy, I did the same. I felt entirely uncomfortable in that moment. It had hit me that in just a few minutes, I had learned so much about what was going on in his world that I had no clue about. I am not going to lie; it stung a bit. Okay, a lot. I couldn’t help but to think of all the other sweet thoughts and stories and moments I have missed lately because of our mutual beastliness towards each other and my inability to step up and get us to a better place. I couldn’t help but to feel ashamed and disappointed. And yet, I also felt hope and happiness.

Hope that tomorrow would be a better day after such a peaceful, relaxed and much overdue conversation and re-connection and happiness that tonight I chose an intentionally long bedtime! Tonight I didn’t once think about the dishes or celebrity gossip or having a few moments of silence. Nope. Instead I thought about how sweet my son’s face still looks at age seven. I thought about how adorable it was that he was afraid to profess his love for his crush. I thought about how much I love talking to him and listening to his stories and thoughts. I thought about how much I missed him, how much I loved him.

And most importantly, I thought about how I would intentionally try harder to be more connected and less beastly, because that isn’t just what we both crave, it is what we both need.

I just can’t stop crying today!

I just cried in the bakery, and then in our Pediatrician’s office and now I am crying as I write this. Or rather try to write this because I am so overwhelmed with intense gratitude, joy, and relief that I can’t think straight or, well, again, stop crying long enough to be able to type clearly! You see, today is a big day in our family, a big, big, BIG day!

Today, February 6, 2014, we celebrate our littlest man, #4, being seizure free for one entire year!

Today is a day that I never thought would come, that I feared never would come, that I so desperately hoped would come. And now it is here and an entire year of fear is pouring out of my eyes

Let me tell you this, it feels phenomenal to be letting go of fear; to be fully exhaling for the first time in 365 days (or at least feeling like it.) I feel like I have been holding my breath just about every single second for the last year, hoping, praying that the next second wouldn’t bring another seizure; that the next second wouldn’t bring me to my knees, watching the clock to know when to give the emergency medicine to stop the seizure, to stop potential damage; that the next second wouldn’t push me to yell to my sons to grab the phone and “bring it to mommy quick” so that I could call 911 and get my son oxygen immediately as we raced to the Emergency Room, again.

Today the only thing the next second is bringing is a smiling, laughing, and curious, two and a half year old acting like R2-D2 by walking around with a storage bucket over his head while making all sorts of beeping sounds. Okay, and it is also bringing a stubborn, mischievous, troublemaker, but that side of him doesn’t often faze me because I am just so grateful. So grateful that he never had another seizure; that he never received the final life long diagnosis of Temporal Lobe Epilepsy; that I won’t ever have to check “epileptic” on the thousands of school forms; that I won’t have to tell him, “Sorry babe, you can’t get a drivers license;” that I don’t have to worry that if I look away for one split second that a seizure will start and I will miss the opportunity to give him his emergency medicine on time, just as I did during the last one.

Yes, I am grateful for so much. But today, today I think I am most grateful for the tears for they are finally pushing all my fears and sad memories out of my heart. The tears are forcing me to finally feel all that I have felt for the last year and half regarding this matter but was afraid to feel because I felt I needed to be strong, and calm, and pulled together to manage the situation. The tears are bringing the traumatic feelings of having to watch my baby son seize numerous times, of having to watch his lips turn blue and his eyes become black and distant and gone, of having to then feel that it was my fault because I didn’t give him the emergency medicine fast enough and that is why his last seizure was so horrific, to my mind.

The tears are helping me to breathe a little easier and for that, I am so grateful.

I have lived much of the last year in a constant state of anxiety; anxiety that a seizure would strike, that the meds wouldn’t work, and that, well, that shit would hit the fan and my darling precious baby would suffer damage from the seizure. After all, that was starting to be the doctor’s concern. All of the doctors, even though none of them agreed on #4’s final diagnosis because he presented different than the norm, agreed that his seizures were too severe and potentially damaging to be left untreated. They all agreed that one more seizure and serious precautions would be needed. So I spent a lot of the last 365 days in a quiet state of panic, slowly counting down every day we survived, seizure free.

At first we went two and a half months, the longest period without a seizure. I jumped for joy. Then it was three straight months, and four and five and six. Soon I stopped counting because I felt safe, I felt that we were in the clear. Then September came, bringing the anniversary of his first seizure – and the beginning of germs season at school, a potential trigger for him. My anxiety increased; I just wanted to get through the sick season seizure free, I just wanted to get to today to say, “YES! We have gone one year seizure free!” because I knew if he did make it, that the doctors would feel that we were indeed, in the clear.

So here I am, here we are, in the clear and yet everything seems blurry because I am crying my eyes out over such immense relief that I can let go of my fears…and such intense love for my little guy.

* * * * *

So here I am, totally over emotional wondering if I should post this because it has nothing to do with yelling. But it does. I held my tears of fear in for over a year. While my fears might have been legit, holding them in probably wasn’t. I mean, it was a normal thing to do, but based on how good I felt today, how I finally felt free like I was me and that I wasn’t hiding anything, I wish I had let them out a little sooner.

Bottled up emotions do me no good; they just push up against me on the inside, day in and day out, urging me to open my big fat mouth with a huge yell so they can get out. I used to be really good at letting my emotions out; then I became worried what people would think of me. So I stopped. And I started keeping it all in, trying to stay together for the sake of opinions surrounding me. The truth? The four most important opinions to me (well five if you include my husband) are those of my kiddos.

I know bottled up emotions make me cranky and prone to yelling and probably create a not so high opinion of me at times. Sure, my kids are going to have not so high opinions of me at times – I am cool with that and welcome it as it probably means I am parenting right! But if I can prevent some of those moments by bottling up less and sharing more, I am going to do so. Today’s tears proved to me how much I have been holding in this past year. Yes, year. It is no coincidence this year was harder to yell less than the previous one where I shared more! So there is another reason I am grateful for my tears today: they have opened my eyes up to the fact that I need to start opening up more so that I can more easily yell less and love more.

I used to hide the fact that I yelled at my boys because I felt like I was the only parent out there who yelled more than she/he pleased. I mean, why share my weakness so I could feel even weaker in comparison to all the other clearly perfect, super-pulled-together and patient parents?

I used to hide the fact that I yelled at my boys because I feared that if I shared my secret that I would be ridiculed and judged by said perfect parents. And besides, let’s be real. Yelling is just one of those parenting topics that isn’t delved into deeply at play dates or date nights because no one wants to talk about it…because so many of us do it and so many of us carry the shame and guilt! Who wants to bring up such a heavy conversation during a fun time? Not I said The Orange Rhino. Yes, in my experience, “yelling at your kids” is a taboo, off-limits subject that you loosely laugh about, “hahaha, I yelled today, who doesn’t” but don’t really talk about, “yeah, I yelled, and I hate myself for it” because it is just too hard, too uncomfortable to talk about!

I used to hide the fact that I yelled at my boys because well, because I felt so incredibly ashamed and disappointed in myself; both for yelling and for not being able to stop said yelling! I didn’t want to admit to anyone how much I struggled because I knew that “going public” would just make my struggle more real, more embarrassing, and more importantly that it would push, no demand, me to actually change. I didn’t want to try to change again because I didn’t want to fail…again.

Yes, I used to hide the fact that I yelled at my boys because it was easier and safer than sharing my dark, ugly, guilt-ridden parenting secret with anyone. Hiding my secret so often left me feeling alone, screwed-up, and sad. I yearned to talk about it, to ask for advice from friends, to find support from my family, but I hesitated because I worried that I might just end up feeling more alone, more screwed-up, and more sad. So I kept my secret hidden for a good couple of years.

During those years I cried myself to sleep sometimes because I felt so awful that I said good-night to my boys on a “yell-filled” note instead of an “I really love you note.” I cried to my husband because I felt such anger at myself that I had become a yelling parent, something I never in a thousand years dreamed I would be. I cried to my mom because I felt such frustration that I couldn’t get my act together and just stop yelling already. And I cried to my boys after I yelled…again…and again when all I wanted to do was find patience, calm, and love.

Now, to be clear. I didn’t yell around the clock, 24-7. Maybe I lost my cool a few times a week. To be honest, I have no sense of how much I exactly yelled. I just have a very strong sense that it was too much for me; for my kids. I had the strong sense that I didn’t want to yell anymore; that I didn’t like how it made me or the kids feel. So I decided to change. I decided to come out of hiding and find the support I knew I needed.

Of course, I didn’t come completely out of hiding. I created the name “The Orange Rhino” for myself to not only protect my children but also to give me a name to inspire me to not ell for 365 days. Rhinos are naturally calm animals that charge when provoked (um hello?! Yep, I totally charge with my words.) And the color orange, well that was to remind me to be warm and to give me the energy and determination to keep it together and succeed! I have loved being anonymous – not because I am hiding, but because it has allowed many others to read my story and feel it is his/her story as well. Without a name or face, what I share isn’t just mine, it is ours.

Tomorrow that will change. I will officially put my face out there. I will not lie, I am nervous. I knew this day would come but I just didn’t think it would come with only 24 hours notice and not a lot of time to prepare me, my family, or well, this Community! But, I am also excited because I truly believe in this Community and I want to talk about it louder and wider so that we can reach more people and hopefully help a couple of parents fall to sleep at night with a happy feeling instead of a huge pit in his/her stomach from “crap, I yelled again,” guilt!

And to be honest, I am excited because it means I can really push the conversation about yelling. I can hopefully encourage people to start talking more about his/her struggles with yelling so that we, as a collective parenting community around the world, can learn from each other, get support, and well, find comfort knowing that we aren’t the only ones struggling! Parenting is hard. Period. Parenting with hidden struggles is that much harder. And who needs harder? I know I don’t! So lets talk about yelling. Talking about sex is so “been there done that!” Okay, bad pun. But you know what I mean! It is time to talk about a new subject without embarrassment.

It is time to talk freely and comfortably about yelling so we can help each other.

Okay, call me idealistic, but I so very much hope that sharing my face and no longer hiding will help take the “yelling conversation” out of hiding too. I so very much hope that our Community, our supportive, nonjudgmental, and resourceful Community, will continue to spread the word about “Yelling Less and Loving More” so that talking about yelling is no longer taboo, but tolerated.  No, scratch that.

So that talking about yelling is no longer taboo, but totally welcomed and appreciated.

Want to “Talk Yelling” with me for the next 30 days? Do you want support to get started to yell less and love more? Join my 30 Day Challenge starting WEDNESDAY, January 22nd. Click here to learn more and sign up!

I will never forget the morning I was outside in my driveway playing with my boys and two of them started melting down at precisely the same moment and then wailed together at precisely opposite moments creating a loud, screeching symphony of horrific sounds. Their oh-so-not-beautiful chorus of yells lasted a good couple of minutes and could be heard around the block I am certain, and obviously by my three neighbors walking by at that exact moment. I began to usher my boys into the garage trying desperately to remain calm and collected in front of my new audience. With both yellers inside for a break to chill out and wipe snot of their faces, I ran out to get a lost lovey and instead found the eye of one of my neighbors.

“Oh Orange Rhino, that was quite impressive how cool, calm, and collected you stayed during that. I don’t know how you do it! We heard them before we even reached your driveway!” she laughed.

I laughed right along with her and replied,

“Yeah, kinda loud right? Oi! But thanks for the kind words. And, um, trust me, I am so not cool, calm, and collected, but thank you!” I felt grateful for the compliment, but also embarrassed because I was yet to be an Orange Rhino and I was anything but cool, calm, and collected when I was inside my house and free of potential judgment from a public audience.

“If only she knew the truth,” I thought to myself as I ran inside as the yelling symphony kicked in full force again…but this time with a third voice. Mine. I never yelled in public for fear of said judgment, but in private, well, that is a whole different story.

An entirely different and ass backwards story.

In private, I assumed no judgmental eyes watched me so I felt more comfortable yelling like a banshee.  Obviously, I should have had my vision checked every time I thought that. Did I not see the beautiful children standing in front of me, watching me every second of every minute of every hour of every day? How did I not get that they too were an audience and that they most definitely judged me and came to nasty thoughts about me that I would never dream my children would think?

Fortunately, shortly after my neighbor’s comment I finally fully embraced that my kids were indeed also my audience, my way more important audience, and I didn’t want to just appear cool, calm and collected in front of neighbors and others, but, for the sake of my children, I wanted to be cool, calm and collected in private as well. The Orange Rhino Challenge was born very soon after that and I began my journey of yelling less and loving more. And I actually began feeling comfortable and confident saying, “Yeah, I am cool, calm and collected, and it feels great,” a lot more often.

Yes, now that I am an Orange Rhino, on most days I feel cool, calm and collected. Those days it does feel great to be so “together” and I feel ever so grateful that I took The Orange Rhino Challenge and that it pushed me, that I pushed myself, to change and be the same person in public and private. But let’s be real. There are also days, or at least moments, where as much as I try to be cool, calm, and collected I am much more like frustrated, frazzled and f…g fed up!

Yesterday morning I was definitely in “F” territory. Frustrated. Frazzeld. Fed up. And feeling like a really big failure. #1 has not transitioned back to school well at all (have any of us?) and woke up so elated that it was Sunday and not a school day that he bounced off every square inch of every wall in our house possible. And I? Well I had yet to drink my Gummy Bear juice and was not bouncing here and there and everywhere! #1’s energy of course got my other sons going so soon I had four bouncing off the walls boys and I just couldn’t find the energy to join the circus (often times a good alternative) even though it was evident that the boys were having so much fun laughing together being silly. Although their energy and shenanigans caused no harm and they were all playing together beautifully (an outright miracle these days,) I still felt the need to put an end to it. So I became cranky, cold and crotchety.

“Knock it off,” I snapped.
“NOW.” I repeated, a little more firmly and a lot more frantically than my first statement.

I just needed quiet and peace immediately so I could start the day more smoothly, and well, so I could get to my cool, calm, and collected happy place! Even though I didn’t yell, I didn’t like my voice and I certainly didn’t like that I poured my poisonous attitude into the happy morning, sucking the cheerfulness of my four bouncing bears right out of them as evidenced by eight eyes blankly and sadly staring at me.

So I corrected the situation as best as I could.

“Sorry I snapped guys. I just need some coffee and to wake up a bit. You can keep all your energy and playing going – just take it to the basement where you can be as silly as you want, ‘kay?”

Their eyes softened and they ran yelling into the basement. And I, I immediately made my coffee! As I sat at the kitchen counter, my mind started going back to “F” zone instead of the cool, calm, collected zone as hoped.

“Ugh. I failed. I handled that in a way I don’t like and haven’t done in ages. I am so frustrated with myself.”

And then the coffee must have kicked in because my mind went where it needed to,

 “It’s okay. So you snapped. Let it go. You’ll do better next time.”   

And better I did.

Because the wonderful thing about kids is that they give you lots of chances to practice handling “tough” moments “better next time.” Ha! Yes, my boys give me lots of chances to practice being cool, calm, and collected, like when they decorate the house in toilet paper to make a snow storm, peel an orange while walking around the house and leaving the peel every where, and refuse to get in the car and instead engage all brothers to stage a protest of all errands.

But, and more importantly, they also give me lots of chances to fall head over heals in love with them again and again and again with their outright adorable stories, infectious laughs and tender hugs and kisses. But here’s the catch.

I can only fully embrace these chances to love more if I forgive myself when I have a so-called “failure” parenting moment and find myself totally frustrated with my behavior. Yes, I can only take these chances to love more if I tell myself it is okay that I wasn’t “perfect,” and that I can, and will, do better next time.

If I don’t forgive myself and move forward the only chance, no the only certainty, is that I will miss out on the chance to see and embrace opportunities to love my kids more because I will be too busy loving myself less. And well, that just isn’t something I want to do anymore. Been there, done that and missed too many stories, laughs, and snuggles for years before becoming an Orange Rhino. Letting go and believing I will do better next time is what I want to do, what I am doing, because well for this Orange Rhino,

Failure is out and Forgiveness is in.

 There are days and moments when I will feel frustrated, frazzled, and f… fed and I will be tempted to add “failure” to the mix. But on those days, in those moments, I will fight to add forgiveness instead because it is a huge key to getting back to the cool, calm, and collected world where yelling less and loving more happens much more readily!

On January 20, 2012, I promised my kids I would go 365 days straight without yelling at my four boys, then ages five-ish and under. It took me a few starts and re-starts but finally…

On February 6, 2013 I celebrated one year of not yelling! I didn’t stop there though, I kept going. Not yelling had become so easy, okay, so much easier, and the calmer, quieter, home and the calmer and happier mommy and kids made me naturally want to never yell again. So I didn’t.

That is until July 12, 2013 when I lost my cool and screamed bloody murder at my sweet kiddos.  The stress of my life had simply gotten to me and instead of unleashing my growing anger into a freezer or a toilet as I had taught myself to do, and instead of calling a friend to share and unload, I unleashed my anger and unloaded complete unnecessarily at my kids. But alas, I had made it 520 days straight without yelling and found solace in that accomplishment. So I picked up myself, determined to not yell for 520 days or more, and started again.

Kind of.

I started again, but my determination kept on getting defeated by the stress of life.

Sadly, I haven’t been able to get that 520-day streak going again. I go a month or so and then break the streak. Then I go another month, maybe a few weeks, or even a few days, and I yell. Big time. And every time I yell I feel like a failure, one gigantic, big, ugly, loud failure. And I feel like a sham, one gigantic, big, ugly, orange sham.

I think it is time for this sign to become a staple in our house again!

You see, every time I yell, every time I don’t take any of my writing to heart and instead slowly re-wound my kids hearts with my words, and re-wound my own heart with intense criticism, I feel that all I am doing is eroding the truth behind everything I have written. Every time I yell, I feel that I bring into question the validity of all the lessons I have learned on my “no yelling” journey. Every time I yell, I feel that I really didn’t figure out how to “yell less and love more” at all because if I did, then I wouldn’t be yelling!

And every time I yell, I feel like I want to run and hide from you all because I feel like the biggest farce.

That was, until recently.

On Sunday, December 22^nd I completed my first spin workout in four months. As expected (and hoped), forty-five minutes of sweating sweat away everything that had been clouding and weighing down my mind for months, freeing my mind to do what it loves to do: ponder challenges until a revelation has been made. That Sunday morning, one song pushed me to ponder if I was indeed a “sham” or if everything I wrote was indeed “genuine.” As I pushed the wheels around and around, literally and figuratively, one thought became clearer and clearer. Okay two.

First, I was wicked out of shape, like holy smokes out of shape.

And second, and way more importantly, I, The Orange Rhino, wasn’t a wicked liar and my writing wasn’t a sham! In fact, it was the opposite. That Sunday morning it donned on me that my problem wasn’t that all the insights, lessons, and steps to not yell that I wrote about were wrong, but rather, that they were all indeed right and I just wasn’t embracing any of them! I wasn’t yelling at my kids because I didn’t actually know how to “Yell Less and Love More,”

I was yelling at my kids because I wasn’t…taking care of me to keep me in a good place to avoid growing anger, resentment and frustration.

I was yelling at my kids because I wasn’t…asking for help and instead trying to do everything by myself despite my physical and mental limitations, which only set me up to be fried and unable to stay cool.

I was yelling at my kids because I wasn’t…talking positively to myself and saying that I can yell less, but instead I saying that I am a failure and a sham. (Um yeah, such negative talk is a sure way to not succeed!)

I was yelling at my kids because I also wasn’t…talking positively to my kids to inspire positive behavior. I spoke critically, forgetting that they respond better, like much better, to kind words and a calm voice.

I was yelling at my kids because I wasn’t…tracking my triggers to discover new ones. Kids change, life changes, triggers change. I knew that. I knew I needed to re-evaluate and come up with new solutions to manage my triggers, but I didn’t want to take the time. So instead I started “paying time” vis-à-vis increased frustrating behavior from my kids as a result of my increased yelling. (The more I yell, the worse their behavior is.)

I was yelling at my kids because I wasn’t…forgiving myself on days I yelled, but dwelling instead. The more I dwell, the more I yell. It’s that simple.

I was yelling at my kids because I wasn’t…celebrating any moment I did succeed, but rather just reminding myself that I had more to achieve.

I was yelling at my kids because I wasn’t…focusing on a goal because well, I didn’t set a new, meaningful goal to motivate me.

And I was yelling at my kids because I wasn’t…being modest. I had “succeeded” so I assumed I had the “not yelling” thing in the bag and I let my guard down. And while I did have the tools down, I still needed to be mindful to keep them top of mind; I didn’t need to get over confident that I could just succeed.

So yeah, I wasn’t yelling at my kids because I didn’t know how, I was yelling at them because I wasn’t doing what I needed to do in order to yell less and love more. How can I be sure of this? Because the last two weeks since this realization I have re-embraced some of these lessons and the yelling has already gone down which is really good news. Not yelling at my boys is just too important to me to let it continue! In these last few months of more yelling than I like, but significantly less than before I took the Challenge, I can sense the decreased calmness, joy, and cooperation in the house as a result of my yelling. And I don’t like it. And I don’t like myself for it! Life not yelling felt better, in so many ways. So for the first time ever in my life, I am making a New Year’s Resolution…on New Year’s Eve!

2014 will be the year I return to being an Orange Rhino. Full stop. Period.

Hoping to see one of these after I kick tomorrow’s day in the a..

I will achieve this by doing all of the above that I have lost sight of, most importantly, by forgiving myself, and not yelling at myself, if I slip up. Yelling at my kids less has to, and does, start with yelling at myself less. And likewise, loving my kids more starts with loving myself more. Full stop. Period.

Changing is hard.
Not yelling is hard.
Making a promise to do the above, is hard.
Mistakes will happen.
Moving forward and achieving my goal will only be harder if I don’t forgive myself along the way; if I don’t love myself along the way.

So love myself more, forgive myself more, I will.

Will you?
Are you with me?
Please say yes because I am going to need as much support as I can find!

If you want to Yell Less and Love More with me, here are a few other resources that might help you get started.

* NEW! “Yell Less, Love More” the book! The book was published one year after this post. Notice the title…Yell LESS, not never 🙂 I am an Orange Rhino, but I am also human and as this post alludes to, life happens and so do yells. It’s okay! The key is to forgiving yourself and getting as many loving more moments as you can. It’s a 30-day guide to help you create your own motivational goal filled with honest stories to inspire, simple steps to follow, and 100 alternatives to yelling.

* Forget 365 Days (Create your own goal and remember that any moment not yelling, no matter how big or small, is a success!), click here
* 12 steps I roughly followed to stop yelling, click here
* Top alternatives to yelling, click here
* Top things I learned about yelling, click here

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I sat in my therapist’s office last Thursday and cried.
And cried.
And cried.

I had just admitted that I felt completely lost and unsure how I was going to keep managing all the intense feelings of stress, sadness, frustration and anger that I had been coping with the last couple of months. I had just admitted that I was completely and utterly wiped from keeping it together. I had just admitted that I was so tired of so many hits coming my way these last few months and that I just needed a break; that I just needed something good to happen.

I finally took a breath and stopped talking but the tears, oh the tears didn’t stop. The tears just kept falling and falling and falling silently down my cheeks. I did everything I could to try and keep myself from going into a full on crying meltdown. I bit my lip in hopes that it would keep my mouth shut; I knew if I talked anymore I would just lose it. I rubbed my fingers together to distract me; to help me not focus on all the pain I felt at the moment. I stared at the ceiling, desperately hoping that if I didn’t make eye contact I wouldn’t have to start talking about all the “real” emotions that had pushed me to start crying in the first place. Yes, I did everything but talk to my therapist.

“Orange Rhino, where are you?” my therapist asked.
“I’m here.” I mumbled.
“I know, but where is your mind, what are you thinking? You look like you have gone somewhere else,” she stated.

And she was right. I had gone somewhere else. I was no longer engaged and present in the conversation she and I were having. I was no longer willing to openly share about how I just didn’t know if I could keep handling all the hard shit in my life. I was no longer listening to any of her questions or empathetic, encouraging words. Nope, instead I was fully withdrawn into my own mind, listening and sharing only with myself the same thought over and over and over again: “I am so overwhelmed. I just don’t know how to move forward. I just can’t do it. I can’t. I can’t.”

I would think these thoughts and then counteract them with, “Stop. Stop thinking like this it isn’t productive.”

I would then of course counteract with, “Blech, I know that but I can’t help it. I am so overwhelmed. I just don’t know how to move forward. I just can’t do it. I can’t. I can’t.”

This inner dialogue went on for a good while. And then out of the blue (or should I say out of the orange?) a new, WAY more productive thought came into my mind. Suddenly, I thought,

“Enough already. You CAN move forward. You CAN manage all that is overwhelming you. You DO know how to do both already: just go one moment at a time. Just like you did on your Orange Rhino Challenge!”

And voila! The negative conversation and my tears finally stopped. (And yes, in the middle of my therapy session I thought about The Orange Rhino Challenge. It was just that impactful of an experience for me!) A smirk crept onto my face because I just couldn’t believe that yet again, one of the many lessons I learned on The Orange Rhino Challenge had become applicable to yet another “non-yelling” area of my life.

When I started The Orange Rhino Challenge I was certain that I would learn about how to not yell, how to better discipline my children, and how to keep cool, calm, and collected. I never expected though that all the lessons I would learn to keep me from yelling would also apply to so many other challenges in my life. The realization of the profound impact of taking The Orange Rhino Challenge and the realization that all my hard work and soul searching was so incredibly worthwhile, hit me so hard and so beautifully at that moment that my smirk immediately became a smile.

“You seem better now,” my therapist stated.

And I was better. Much better.

She then continued on and on with some advice and thoughts for me to ponder. The thing is, I didn’t take in any of what she said! All I heard was, “blah, blah, blah” because while I was more present, I was still quite preoccupied with my own thoughts. This time, however, I wasn’t thinking about how I couldn’t manage, but instead I was thinking about how I could manage; how I could draw upon even more lessons from The Orange Rhino Challenge to move forward and feel better instead of giving up and losing hope! 

Anywho, I thought more about how I did indeed already know how to move forward when phenomenally stressed; that just like getting through tough days when I wanted to scream at every one and anything, I needed to just go one moment at a time. I needed to not think about every stressor and challenging situation at once, but instead focus on one at a time and move forward slowly.

I thought about how I proved to myself on my no yelling journey that if I believe in myself that I could do hard things, even if I felt a little unsure, that I could actually do hard things! The same lesson applies to this time in my life. Things are hard right now. I can easily say this has been my hardest year out of my 36! But, I know I can persevere and keep going, that I can keep my head up and not quit on myself or my kids, even when I feel like running for the hills if I focus on believing in myself instead of tearing myself down with negativity. The Orange Rhino Challenge taught me that.

I thought about how I needed to make sure that I was taking care of me so that I had enough energy to handle the “hard shit,” just like I had learned that taking care of me kept me from yelling during trying moments with my darling kiddos. If I don’t take care of me, I explode. It is that simple. It applies to yelling moments and trying life moments. Taking care of me isn’t selfish, it’s necessary!

I thought about how I needed to adjust my expectations of what “feeling better” really meant; how I needed to stop expecting perfect feelings without any frustration, sadness, or anger. That just isn’t realistic in my life right now. Instead, I needed to embrace what I realized The Orange Rhino Challenge was all about, progress, not perfection. My stressors will subside over time. It won’t happen quickly, and it won’t happen perfectly as I envision, but it will happen. Every day I progress forward and that matters way more than perfect days!

I thought about how as I progressed forward and embraced an imperfect path, that the more positive actions and statements (and thoughts) I could make, no matter how difficult, the more positive results I would receive, just as I learned on my Orange Rhino journey. Positive attracts positive. My son taught me that; I learned that when I am more positive towards him, he behaves better and my desire to yell greatly reduces.

And I thought about how I simply can not control what is going on in my life, but that I can always control how I respond, just like I can not control my children’s personalities or behaviors but that I can always control how I respond to them. I can choose to yell or stay calm. I can choose to have negative, totally unproductive thoughts in my head about how I can’t do things, or I can tell myself I can. This was one of biggest lessons learned on my Orange Rhino Challenge; one of the biggest aha’s…and one of the hardest to fully embrace. Then and now.

As I sat on the couch in my therapist’s office, all these totally applicable “yelling management” lessons swirling around in my mind, I felt a sense of confidence and calm that I lacked when I walked in. I knew that I had a path forward that would keep me from my crying meltdown. That path? The Orange Rhino journey. I knew that whenever I felt the stressors getting to me that I could think of my journey and what I learned and rely on those lessons for strength and inspiration. And while I also knew it would be REALLY hard sometimes to embrace the lessons, I likewise knew that I could, because again, I am an Orange Rhino. I can do hard things!

If you have not read, “Parenting on Empty” it is the post that drove the post below. Click here: Parenting on Empty

A month ago, on a whim, I packed up the mini-van with my boys and headed to the New Hampshire Mountains and the Massachusetts coast. I had been parenting, well living really, on empty for weeks and I knew I just needed to go to my two sanctuaries to fill up. I so very much hoped that the fresh mountain air would fill me with a fresh perspective; that the quietness of the lake would quiet my mind and fill me with peace and that the lack of Internet connection would fill me with greater connections with my kids. And I so very much hoped that the calming breeze off the ocean would fill me with a sense of inner calm; that the soothing sound of the crashing waves would soothe my anxiety; that the time spent at my favorite childhood spots with my boys would fill me up with so many new favorite memories with my kids that I couldn’t help but to overflow with joy and personal fulfillment.

And it did. Oh did it.

After two great days in my childhood hometown building Legos together and eating at all of mommy’s favorite spots, we packed into the mini-van again and headed towards the New Hampshire lake where I basically spent all my childhood. As we pulled into the state park and I rolled the window down, I couldn’t help but to stop and breathe in the fresh pine tree air. It smelled exactly how it did over twenty-five years ago; I felt as I did twenty-five years ago. I felt invigorated, carefree and relaxed. Just one breath of fresh air and I already felt a wee bit more full.

We pulled into the parking lot and I just stared at the lake, a smile creeping onto my face. My mind flooded with memories of swimming until sunset, finding the perfect stick for roasting marshmallows, and eating ice cream as fast as possible so it didn’t melt down my bathing suit and into the pine needles. I couldn’t wait to get out and do the same exact things with my boys! Oh did they ever have an absolute blast splashing in the lake and building in the sand just as my brother and I had done years before. The only difference in our day was that the lake now had boats to rent, so rent we did! We went canoeing, kayaking and paddle boating, a first for all my boys. At one moment I stopped in the middle of the lake just to take in the peace and to gaze at my four beautiful sons. My boys urged me to keep paddling. I urged them to enjoy the silence and the beauty. I felt even more full.

Swimming at sunset. Beautiful Sunset. Happy Child. Peaceful Mommy. Parenting less and less on empty…

The sun started to set and we headed towards the cabin. I knew that a night of sleep didn’t await any of my boys so I had let them linger at the lake to enjoy some last moments in their inner tubes. This of course meant that they were beyond hyper when we did roll into the cabin. The lake had relaxed me though so I went with the flow and embraced my two year old figuring out how to put underwear on his head and then inspiring his brothers to do the same. I have never seen them all laugh so hard TOGETHER. They ran about with underwear on their heads and joy in their hearts. It was totally awesome. But it was also totally late. I couldn’t calm down the underwear party because the ringleader wouldn’t stop. He just kept putting more and more underwear on his head. So I picked him up, informed my mom that a night time drive was needed, and confidently headed to the door, so proud that I had found a solution to calm the night down.

Who needs party hats when we have underwear? Oh, #4 you totally destroyed bedtime but laughing so hard that I almost needed to change my underwear made it all worth it!

I of course was so proud, confident and gun-ho with my plan that I forgot to look before I walked out the door. I am not sure what transpired next except that somehow I ended up with my face down in the dirt, #4 cradled safely in my arms, and my two feet still in the cabin. I tried to stand up but couldn’t put any weight on my feet. I thought I had broken both ankles and immediately feared that I had no way to drive 6 hours home. I hobbled into the cabin, #4 saying,“Mommy boo boo” as my dad raced out to get ice. And a beer. I really felt that I needed a beer too at that moment!

The pain subsided and when we woke the next day, I confidently put my sneakers on and walked to breakfast with the boys. There was no way I was missing breakfast at Rosie’s! And then I ignored my mother’s orders (never a good plan) to spend the day resting with my feet up and we took to boys to an amusement park where I had to walk around all day. It seemed fine. The pain literally had subsided, or perhaps all the joy from going on roller coasters and eating fried dough with my boys just masked it.

There was no swelling or bruising the next morning so I again assumed my feet were fine and we piled into the mini-van again, this time headed to Rockport, my favorite Massachusetts coastal town.

My four boys at my favorite place with gorgeous weather and delicious ice cream so completely helped to fill me up!

My foot might have hurt but the joy of my boys dressing up as fisherman and sailors and taking the most adorable, perfect picture EVER at the same studio where I took pictures dressed up in fancy dresses as a thirteen year old most certainly continued to mask the pain. So did having a pizza party with my boys on a hotel floor that night and then watching the sunset over the ocean and the moon rise up as my boys snuggled in bed next to me.

Oh how my tank floweth over!

Yes, injury aside, it was an amazing week with my boys, everything I hoped for and more. Was the week go-go-go, chaotic, and exhausting? Absolutely. Did the boys hardly sleep because we were on vacation? Absolutely. Did their exhaustion lead to some questionable behavior? Absolutely. Would I do it all over again? ABSOLUTELY.

Because as tough as it was at times, it was nothing short of magical to share experiences with my boys that I had as a little girl. Those experiences, those moments where I just really focused on enjoying and connecting with my boys, well they more than helped to re-fill my tank. Combined those with nature, natural beauty like sunrises and sunsets, and fresh air and yes, my tank floweth over by the end of the trip.

This. Beautiful sunrise. Lighthouses in the distance. Waves crashing against the rocks. This made all my stress and exhaustion from a night of “seizure watching” disappear.

You know, I often times forget how getting outside, how getting fresh air really helps me to “fill-up.” Oh, how I am grateful that I re-learned this and hope that I remember this when I sense I am headed towards empty. The good news, it’s easy to get fresh air!

And you know, I often times, far, far too often, forget that playing and enjoying my kids, like REALLY enjoying them, laughing with them and creating memories with them is one of the best remedies for an over-tired, over-cranky, over-whelmed mommy, also known as me! I am so grateful as well to have re-learned this and I really, really hope that I can hold on to this insight and use it keep me from feeling empty. I know this will be harder than just walking outside to get fresh air, but oh, I hope I remember it. The upside to this remedy to parenting on empty? I am fairly certain it fills my kids hearts with such joy that they too feel a little more full! Oh the other upside, the obvious one? I am less likely to want to yell when I am filling up by enjoying my kids. Their hugs, kisses, snuggles, laughter, and smiles of awe and wonder and love not only calm me and fill my heart helping me parent on “fuller,” but they also fill my heart with more determination to keep on not yelling so that I when I want their love and affection, they want to give it to me.

I distinctly remember my need to “nest” before each of my son’s births; it was an instinct that my body just couldn’t fight. From washing onesies to perfectly folding burp clothes, from picking out birth announcements to printing labels for said announcements, from arranging the temporary changing station in the family room to setting up the night time one in the nursery, I did anything and everything I could to prepare for the arrival of my son. I know there is real research about why moms-to-be nest; I don’t know exactly what it says, I just know that for me, nesting brought me calm.

Nesting made my mind feel an ounce of being prepared when the rest of my mind knew that it wasn’t even remotely emotionally or physically prepared for the joys and challenges motherhood would bring. As excited as I was to be a mom, I was also so incredibly nervous about breastfeeding, lack of sleep, crying fits and about whether or not I would have an ounce of a clue as of what to do! Somehow hanging clothes told me that none of those worries mattered; as long as the cute clothes were hung in size order and by color, I would be okay. I nested intensely for every single son, each time with a different focus.

For my first son, nesting was all about the nursery and basic baby necessities as those were the things that I thought mattered the most. For my second, I knew better. Sure I did those things but I focused on getting organized in a new town, finding doctors and friends to ask for help, as I knew from my first that a support network is more important than folded burp clothes. For my third son’s arrival my focus was all about getting all my nagging house and personal to-do’s done because I knew for certain that once my third child came that my time to do anything for me would be gone. I was accurate to that accord (mostly.) Yes, nesting for #3 included a 142 item to do list, color coded by priorities and arranged into a schedule. Such items: birthday invites for #1, Christmas card, baby book for #2, etc. It was a bit obsessive but again, it eased my fears and nerves about how crazy life would be with three because I knew there were no “to-do’s” hanging over my head. Oh did that list keep me calm. And oh did I ever kick that to-do list’s butt; 142 items done. I still look back and smile at that accomplishment!!!

And then there was nesting for #4. We literally finished construction and moved into our rooms again at week 37. I had been having the urge to nest for weeks and it was driving me crazy that I couldn’t “get ready.” I had theoretically three weeks to unpack every box and get every room and the nursery organized. Every night I talked to the little man and said, “Dude, you can’t come until the house is ready. I need the house to be ready so I can be relaxed for you? Kay? Please just wait.” He listened quite well and arrived on the same day as I unpacked the last box and the handyman installed the last doorknob. I felt such gratitude that I got all my “need to nest” urges done before #4 arrived because I knew that being organized before my life got completely disorganized would be one thing that could keep me sane. And it did. Oh did it.

And right now “parental nesting” is keeping me sane. Parental nesting is keeping me from yelling by keeping me calm. Parental nesting is making my mind feel an ounce of being prepared for what will start out as an incredibly difficult school year. This year will be filled with three different schools, four different children’s schedules, mommy going back to work part-time, and other personal challenges that are working overtime.

Yes, parental nesting is helping me find an ounce of calm when the rest of my mind knows that it isn’t even remotely emotionally or physically prepared for the joys and challenges that the year will bring. As excited as I am for the year: for my youngest to keep on learning to talk, for #3 to start soccer, for #2 to start reading and #1 to continue blossoming in his confidence, I am also nervous. I am nervous about the growing demands of four children. I am nervous about finding the balance between letting go so my kids can cherish their moments and holding on so that I can cherish the fleeting moments. I am nervous about working part-time, about feeling guilty even though it is something I wanted and continue to want. I am nervous about the complexity of it all. Because unlike when I prepared for my first son to be born and I truly had NO idea what to expect, I kind of have a clue here.

I know there will be days that within the same hour I am going to drive two kids two different places and then the other two will drive me to a frustrated place.

I know there will days that one son will come home from school crying because his teacher is bossy and the other will come home proud that he learned to read and I will end up crying.

I know there will be days when I throw up my hands in the air and say “I just want summer back when I didn’t have a schedule” and then moments later “I am so incredibly grateful for the routine!”

I know there will be days when I watch all four boys eat breakfast on time and together without putting a fork in each other’s arms for sh*ts and giggles and I feel grateful I have a large family and then there will be a time when the chaos and demands of four kids will make me think I was crazy to have a large family.

And I know there will be days when I feel confident about my parenting and days when I feel absolutely lousy and lost.

And I know that all of these mixed emotions that the school year and motherhood bring will make me stressed and on the edge of losing it vis a vis unnecessary yelling at my kiddos.

So, I nest. I have finally put a bath mat in the kids bathroom so that morning fights about the water on the floor aren’t an issue. I bought a toothbrush holder for the bathroom so that toothpaste doesn’t also cause an issue. I installed a huge calendar and bulletin board on the wall with each kids daily schedule printed out so they they, and I, know who needs to be where, when. I bought bedside table lights so that I read before bed instead of surfing the net which inhibits my sleeping.

Yep, I have been nesting for the school year for the last two weeks. It’s interesting to me that when pregnant, nesting was a natural instinct. My body knew that nesting would calm me; that it would give me something to focus on other than my nerves. My body knew that getting organized would give me confidence that I was ready to handle the upcoming challenge. Yes, nesting before mamahood was natural. But afterwords? Not at all. It seems that my body didn’t know what to do to calm down in order to prepare for a challenge.

It took me until The Orange Rhino Challenge to figure out what I needed to do to calm my nerves and gain confidence that I could handle a tough situation. In labeling my triggers, I forced myself to figure out how to stay calm so that my stress wouldn’t push me to yell. I figured out preventative measures for most triggers, but one of the big ones has continued to remain: the stress and “overwhelmingness” of managing four kids different schedules, different needs and different personal challenges. Lately, this has taken over my life. This has made me want to yell on a daily, no hourly basis because the stress is immense. This, has led me to nest because I know how to nest. I nest well. Really, really well.

Before The Orange Rhino Challenge I wouldn’t have allowed myself to nest. I wouldn’t have allowed myself to take comfort in getting organized or doing small, seemingly inconsequential to-do’s. Shoot, six months into The Challenge I wouldn’t have. But now, now I know that it is necessary. It is necessary to do what I need to do to stay calm.

And so, again, I nest. And I will keep nesting until I feel settled enough to fully tackle the challenges and joys this year brings me. Although part of me really wishes it had been a natural instinct to nest last year and the year before to relieve some of my stress, I am just grateful that at least now I know that I need to. I am just grateful that it is become a natural instinct to parentally nest because it does prevent me from yelling which we all know I am grateful for as well!

Do you know what you need to do to “nest” to ease the stresses of parenting and life? Do you let yourself do so?