Originally posted April 17, 2013 when I was on Day 435 of not yelling

Motherhood, motherhood, motherhood. You challenge me, you scare me, you delight me, you raise me, you please me, you displease me. Oh motherhood, you make me feel so many emotions. It is a rare a day goes by that I don’t feel elated one moment and deflated the next; only to feel elated a moment later.

Today was no different.

Around three o’clock today I received some thoughts about one of my sons that were disheartening.

Cue emotions: Sadness and Guilt.

It doesn’t matter which son it was about or what was said. It was neither bad nor good; it was just hard to hear. No, it was heart wrenching to hear. Absolutely heart wrenching. The “news” broke my heart. Even though I know it will all work out and that I know he will be fine, I will be fine, we will be fine, it still hurts to know that one of my sons is struggling. Upon hearing the news I immediately started in with the:

“It’s my fault. I am a bad mom. I am not present enough. I don’t play too much. I expect too much. I don’t expect enough. I don’t do enough. This is my entire fault. And if it isn’t my fault for acting wrong, it is my fault for sharing my DNA.”

Oh yes, I played the “I suck as a mom” card over and over and over in my head this afternoon. I was so down that I couldn’t even cry. I was past crying.  I went through the motions of dinner calmly and lovingly. We all went peacefully up to bed and I kept my fingers crossed for a nice, dry bath time!

Cue next emotions: Joy and Laughter.

Bath time was a sh*tshow, but I loved every minute of it. You see, the bathroom joins two of my boys’ bedrooms, creating a grand total of 4 doors, or better yet, 4 ways to escape. I was doing my best to coral my munchkins into the bathroom, but tonight, oh tonight they had me beat. I would close one door only to have my mischievous 21 month old start running to open the next door; he of course was two steps behind his older brother who had opened another door. Doors slammed and laughter erupted as four little boys literally ran circles around me. I did all I could do: laugh. It was hysterical, I mean here I am a somewhat fit thirty-five year old woman unable to catch four kids and get them into a bath. Not infuriating at all; nope not tonight. I took major delight in the laughter, in the happiness, as it was such a welcomed treat compared to hours before.

My joy continued in the bathtub. Tonight’s bath was overflowing with bubbles. #2 decided he wanted a mustache and dipped his entire face in the soapsuds. He came up looking like Santa Claus instead.

Of course #3 and #4 followed suit. Seeing three faces covered in white soapsuds with just sparkling eyes peeping out was priceless. Of course #4 then decided to taste the soap and went diving in with his mouth wide open, just like a duck looking for a fish. He came up with a mouthful of soap and then blew it all out in my face while laughing hysterically. Tonight, at bath time, I was so grateful to be relaxed and calm and present. I think my sadness earlier made me more in touch with my love for my boys tonight and that allowed me to focus and stay connected. And well, not yelling totally helped too!

The circus continued well into story time. I was moving slow tonight, savoring every minute of bedtime. Such a gift to take bedtime slow without yelling. Such. A. Gift. #1 and #2 snuggled next to me for story time and #3 plopped down on my lap. OH BOY. That left nowhere for #4 who now considers himself, you know 4 even though he is yet to be two! He started pulling hair and trying to move everyone. He gave up. He literally straddled #3 and plopped down right on top of him so that he was in the center of it all, staring right at me.

His green eyes sparkled with pride and we all burst out laughing. It was a beautiful family moment that again, I savored because I wasn’t rushing it or yelling. Every child then scampered off to their rooms, their loveys in hand and hopefully their hearts full. I made my rounds of hugs and kisses and “I love you because….”

Then I got to the room of my son who I had received the thoughts about earlier.

Cue new emotions.

Cue: sadness, frustration, fear, empathy, concern, confusion, hope, guilt, pain and love, endless, endless love.

I had saved his room for last intentionally. Tonight, tonight I wanted to snuggle a little longer, talk a little longer, love a little bit more. I wanted to make sure that he knew he was a good kid. That I knew he was smart, talented, loving, likeable and more. You see, he doesn’t see that in himself. My sweet young child already is insecure more than the average child and it breaks me in two. No child should feel what he feels. No child should struggle as he does. And especially not my child.

“Okay munchkin, time for bed.”

“How about a book?” he asked.

“I was thinking tonight, instead of reading we could snuggle longer and talk more.”

“Okay I guess. As long as it is longer than the time we spend reading.”

“Absolutely. Twice as long, I promise. And I will sing you the lullabies I sang to you when you were a baby.”

He jumped into bed all excited.

“Here, come closer for a really big snuggle. I want you to feel all the love in my heart that I have for you.”

He snuggled up, a big sh*t eating grin on his face. The next part I wish I was creative enough to write and dream up. That is not the case. This actually happened.

“Do you feel my love? Do you know how much I love you?” I asked.

“Yes. I feel it all the way down to my toes. I feel it between my toes. And I feel it to my fingers and between my fingers. See here mommy, see the kind of V between my fingers? It’s like the bottom of a heart. Between every finger there is an imaginary heart where I feel your love for me.”

Tears STREAMING down my face, I said:

“Well good. Then if you can see those hearts in your hand, you will know that I am always with you and that I will always love you.”

“Okay, can you start singing now?”

I sang and then if on queue, another emotion arrived: the challenge of letting go.

“Mommy, you can stop hugging me now. I like to fall asleep alone.”

“Oh, okay. I love you though, with all my heart.”

“I know.”

Oh my dear son, I know you “know” but I truly hope you really “know” how deep and strong my love is for you. I am here for you dear son, I will fight for you and with you my dear son. I will help you, I will help me, my dear son. We will get through this.

Cue new emotion: Determination.

Yes Motherhood is one heck of a roller coaster of emotions, many of which I have never experienced in such depth. And yet, I wouldn’t trade it in for the world because at the core of all these conflicting emotions is one very clear and unwavering one that is driving them all: my deep love for my boys, my four sweet beautiful boys.

* * * * *

I share more of my heartbreaking motherhood stories, as well as steps to stop yelling, tips to prevent yelling, and fun, not heartbreaking stories,  in my book, “Yell Less, Love More: How The Orange Rhino Mom Stopped Yelling at Her Kids and How You Can Too!” You can pre-order it by clicking here.

4 days of Year 2, yelling less and loving more 

Today was a beautiful afternoon.

For the first time in what feels like ages, I was at peace. I was completely present with my sons, smiling and laughing as they ran up and down the driveway jumping high to pop the bubbles I blew between my own laughs. I was completely present as I listened to #4 say “Bub” “Bub” over and over as each iridescent bubble floated into the sky. I was completely present as all four ran together, TOGETHER, not fighting or arguing, and completely happy as a brotherhood.

And then I wasn’t present.
Just like that.

We came in for dinner and I picked up my phone to see texts stating: “we’re okay.” “I’m okay.” “Are your parents okay?” I opened Facebook to see my feed streaming with statements of safety and I was no longer present. My mind drifted to memories of 9/11 and the same sense of panic that ensued as I made sure all my friends that worked downtown were safe. I was again lost in a state of panic as I called my parents and asked: “what the heck happened? Is everyone we know safe?” I so desperately wanted to turn the news on but more desperately wanted to protect my children from images I knew they would never forget and not even come close to understanding.

So I stood frozen. Paralyzed with sadness and devastation. And yet knowing that the meatloaf was burning, the kids were screaming to eat, and that at that moment, life had to go on. That at that moment, my kids needed me. That at that moment even though I wanted to scream, “SHUT…UP mommy wants some peace to read her newsfeed and to call friends,” that wasn’t an option.

Because that response would have been something they would never forget and would not come close to understanding. Why is mommy acting so mean? So vengeful? So rageful? Why is mommy scaring us so?

The answer is obvious to me – because mommy was (is) scared and angry. Yet, I didn’t want to unleash that on my children because they did not deserve it. So I did what I have taught myself to do when I have ugly feelings and want to yell: I told them how I felt.

Did I yell? No.
Did I bottle up my emotions? No.
Did I share my emotions? YES.

I clapped my hands hard. CLAP! CLAP!

“Boys. BOYS. Mommy is very sad right now. Mommy is feeling angry, not at you but at something she heard. Mommy is very frustrated. I need your help. Please, can we be a little quieter and eat our dinner peacefully? Please. I need you to help me so that I don’t yell at you unnecessarily.”

I am not sure what happened next to be honest. I was still in a bit of a haze, trying to get meatloaf on plates and milk in sippy cups. They may or may not have been quieter; I couldn’t tell, as my mind was loud and louder by the minute. My thoughts were screaming at me “How is this possible?” and “Stay calm for the boys. Shelter them for this event. Shelter them from your anger.”

It was a fight and I am not talking about the disagreement over what was being served. No the fight was an internal fight to keep myself from losing my cool on my kiddos just because I was in a mood. Were they being bad? No. They were acting pretty gosh darn normal. I just had no patience. I had nothing in the tank accept ugly feelings and those ugly feelings well, they wanted to get out. They were racing to get out and they had nowhere to go but at my precious children. But I would not let that happen. They did nothing wrong.

So I just kept sharing my feelings, showing them in a loving way, that it’s okay to have ugly feelings way. And I just kept teaching them how I have learned to handle my mean emotions in a way other than yelling: by talking and sharing about them. When I say my feelings out loud, when I hear myself say the strong, ugly emotions, it is like a waving a orange flag in front of my eyes that reads: You are upset, remember to stay calmish. It sounds silly, but it works.

A few weeks back my “10 Things I Learned When I Stopped Yelling Post” was shared on a site where someone decided it necessary to blast it. The commenter wrote something along the lines of “Yeah, great advice. Close your mouth, show no emotion, don’t show your kids anger or disappointment, just stay calm and pretend everything is okay.”

At first I was pissed. Really, really pissed. How dare he insult me when I am trying to do something full of love? How dare he throw hate at me? And then, today I was finally grateful. Because he made me realize that I am doing the exact opposite of what he wrote. I am not pretending everything is okay all the time. Nope. Not at all. I am still sharing my emotions – all of them, good and bad and let me assure, I have had my fair share of bad ones this past year – I am just sharing them in a constructive way. I am no longer using them to hurt my kids. I am sharing them in a loving way – even when I feel crappy.

Even though I no longer yell, I am most certainly not pretending everything is okay (in life or with unacceptable behavior.) I am most definitely showing my emotions, but again, in a loving manner, not a condemning, beyond hurtful manner.

After #4’s 1^st, and 2^nd, and 3^rd and 4^th (the worst) seizure, I cried in front of my boys and told them how scared I was, yet positive it would all be okay…and that I loved them.

After we received my father-in-law’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis, I cried in front of my boys when #1 said ever so calmly to #2, “Grandpa is still here, he just doesn’t remember things like he used to. But he still loves us you know.” I told them how sad I was…but that I loved them.

After Newtown, Connecticut happened, my husband’s hometown, I cried in front of my boys and said I was angry that someone would hurt someone else…and that I loved them.

And when #1, #2, and #3 pulled #4 out of his crib to the floor, I said that I was angry and scared because that wasn’t safe…and that I loved them.

And when the boulder in my marriage tried to pin me down, I cried in front of my boys and said that I was frustrated and discouraged…and that I loved them.

And today, at dinner, at bath time, at bedtime, I cried in front of my boys and said: “I am scared, and sad, and angry, and frustrated…but I love you and I will not yell at you even though I am feeling all those ugly feelings.”

My boys definitely understood that my feelings weren’t pretty ones tonight. They could see in my eyes, my smile (or lack thereof) and they could hear it in my short answers. But they also knew that I loved them. Pre Orange Rhino Challenge, I would have let all my ugly emotions, whether a result of their behavior or my own life situations, free onto them. They wouldn’t have felt love, but anger, pure anger and it would have stung and brought tears. I can say now, without a doubt, that I can show emotions without yelling. I can model to my children how to feel angry without letting it hurt people unnecessarily. I am okay with feeling angry, I am okay with telling my kids I am angry at them or at something else, or sad. I am just not okay with letting it be hurtful.

While I am distraught from today’s events, I am grateful to finally be able to let go of this one man’s negative comment. And I am grateful to have been able to show my emotions constructively to my boys instead of yelling because really, even though I thought I “wanted” to yell, what I really wanted to do more than anything in the world tonight was to love my boys and hold them tight, not push them away.

* I feel the need for disclaimers tonight. (I guess I haven’t completely let go of his comment.) I do think yelling out ARGHHHHHHH when angry is okay, just so long as I don’t do it at my kiddos. I also think that if the stress of today got to you, to give yourself a hug instead of hardtime. It’s a lot to take in. 

429 days of loving more

A horrible thunderstorm hovered over our house for what felt like hours last night waking all of us at least two to three times. At one point I was convinced lightning had hit the house it shook so hard. And while it hadn’t, my boys started this morning as if it had. Frazzled and burnt from not sleeping well, every darling son of mine was striking at each other with hands and words and loud, loud, thunderous yells. It was horrible. Absolutely, horrible.

So I demanded a re-start to the day. I sent the three boys to their rooms for some rest as I collected myself and re-gained the calm and the determination to stay calm that I started the day with. And it worked.

This morning’s re-start allowed me to re-focus and then re-connect with my boys in the loving, calm manner I know we all desired. And as I basked in the joy of my re-start, I started thinking (quiet and calm allow that, it’s amazing!) I realized that if I replaced “z” in realize with “v” I would have exactly what I want in life right now: to RE-ALIVE.

What is “re-alive?” The official Orange Rhino dictionary states it as a verb: to become alive, again.

I re-alived 400+ days ago when I started The Orange Rhino Challenge.
Yes, when I stopped yelling at my boys, I became alive again.

Parts of me that had been stuffed away for years came out. I started laughing more. I started smiling more. I started walking with a greater pep. I started sleeping better. I started finding joy in the small things, in the normal moments with my boys like bath time, dinnertime, playtime, chat time.

When I stopped yelling at my boys, I simply felt calmer because I WAS calmer. I had to be calmer in order to think clearly enough to control my temper. And this newfound calmness made me happier than I had felt in a while. This is not to say that I was not happy before. I was. But I also had a cloud of guilt and anger that followed me wherever I went preventing the happiness from lasting as long as I wished. I would have a great moment and feel happy and then I would yell and that happiness would disappear and the guilt and anger with myself would hover around for a while. Because that is the thing with guilt and anger. They are strong emotions – they are hard to lose, to overcome, to forget, to forgive.

But oh, oh those emotions didn’t have a chance to enter my world when I put everything I had into being as calm as I could be. Nope, they didn’t stand a chance. Because when I fully focused on being calm then when frustration arose I handle the situation well and afterwards I felt pride, joy, invigoration and pure utter happiness. And it felt AWESOME. Totally awesome. This happiness seeped into so many aspects of my life: my relationship with my boys, my friends, my husband, my family, my everything. This happiness and new found calmness carried me through some really trying times during the first year of The Orange Rhino Challenge: trips to the emergency room, one son being repeatedly being picked on, my father-in-law getting his Alzheimer’s diagnosis, one son needing more therapy, and more.

I know it sounds cliché to say that my happiness from not yelling made all the challenges of my life manageable but it did. That happiness made so many ugly, heavy emotions that used to come mainly from yelling smaller. So yes, life was more manageable when I focused more of my energy into being calm. And I want that back.

To be clear, I am happy today. I still feel the same pride when I don’t yell. And I am still most definitely calmer than I was a year ago, way calmer. But if I re-wind the past two months, I can honestly say that I am starting to take for granted my non-yelling attitude. I sense that I am not trying as hard to be calm and patient the first go around and instead am working harder to get calm after I’ve heard “Orange Rhino Mommy!” I know part of this new behavior is because of the stress of my life (okay a big part of it, like 97%.) And I know part of it is because I assume I won’t yell so I am subconsciously not putting as much effort in. But reasons aside, I don’t like it.

Am I yelling? No. Am I snapping more than I like? Yes. Am I grumpier more than I like? Yes. Am I letting my personal crap sneak into my relationships with my beautiful sons even though I vowed I wouldn’t let it? Yes. Is this all okay? Of course it is “okay.” I am not, never will be and never intend to be perfect. (Will I keep reminding myself of this though daily? Ha! YES. Like I said, I am not perfect but I am still working on embracing that it is okay to not be perfect!)

But all that said, even though I know it is okay to be grumpy on occasion, I also know that I want to feel calmer again, I want that happiness again. I cannot change the stress in my life. Stress will always exist. But I can change what I do to make myself feel happy and calm in order to keep that stress manageable. And for me, focusing, I mean really re-focusing on not yelling and being a calm and warm mommy, just like I did in my first year, will help combat my current stress. I know it will.

I put this thought to test today. After I re-alized I wanted a re-start to feel re-alive, I decided to pretend it was Day 1 again; that I needed to act calm, speak calm, and do anything possible to make sure that “Mommy Orange Rhino” wasn’t said. It was a fantastic day. FANTASTIC. Did it have moments I wanted to yell? Heck yeah. But because I aimed to keep myself calm, I was able to handle those moments easily and lovingly, not agitatedly with a big dose of grumpy. I felt better. WAY better. My kids responded better. And I, I had the biggest shit eating grin on my face when the last son fell asleep.

I felt again what I felt 400+ days ago: that invigorating feeling of “I DID IT!” We had a great calm yet at times frustrating day. Parts of the old me that had started to go dormant again the last two months peeked out. I think it is the perfect time for those parts of me to peek out; it is spring after all! The buds are just peeking out. The flowers are getting ready to bloom. It is just about the time where the weather pushes me to grab my son’s hands and skip down the sidewalk whistling and smiling because it is so gorgeous out. I want to be ready for that. I don’t want my grumpiness to hold me back.

So tomorrow is the perfect time for me to re-start. To re-focus. To re-set my ticker back to 0. That’s right. I am officially going for another 365 Days. I am going to keep my continuous days ticker up so I don’t lose focus of all the good, but I am also going to set a new goal of 365 days effective tomorrow, April 12, 2013. I know me. I am a goal driven person. Goals keep me focused. Sharing my goals keep me accountable and will help me not take for granted my new found non-yelling attitude and will definitely help me not let my stress push me to become a frequent grumpy and not-calm mommy.

This day wasn’t the only thing that needed a re-start, I did too and I couldn’t be more excited. Re-starts are a great opportunity. Bring it on Year 2!

426 Days of Loving More!

Today was a really long, hard day. I mean Mondays always are so I shouldn’t be surprised. Daddy goes back to work after being home for 48 hours and the boys know they won’t see him until Saturday morning. Mommy goes back to being a bit more high strung because well, daddy is back at work and because there are five hundred and one places to drive to and things to do that slide over the weekend. And the kids go back to being even more high strung because of all the aforementioned reasons. Ugh, Mondays are not my favorite day of the week!

And today, well, today was an especially rough Monday because Daddy had been home for 10 days straight and we had all vacationed as a family together over that time. Re-entry into the “real world” stunk for all of us. Literally and figuratively.

The day started with realizing that the kitchen disposal had backed-up into the basement and dried, rotten food was all over a bathroom creating a stench that even a skunk would avoid. The upside? This explained why we had ants suddenly crawling out of the sink and the grout in the bathroom floor finally turned white again after layers of bleach and cleaning products.

The day ended with realizing that #4’s little cough was now a croupy cough and that he was still sporting a nice fever that could very well bring on a seizure and a trip to the Emergency Room. The upside? Lots of snuggles and falling asleep after a long crappy day with a little head nestled in my neck.

But oh, oh in between realizing the bathroom stunk and that a trip to the Hospital might happen, I also had the “opportunity” to realize that many of my triggers for yelling were still in fact triggers: endless unmanageable energy, endless whining, and endless clinginess. Oh, oh was it a day!

#1 had so much energy (anger really that vacation was over) that he was bouncing off any and all walls, even the imaginary ones outside.  If there was a wall, he was bouncing off it right onto another. And with every bounce his impulse control became smaller and smaller to the point that there was none and most behaviors that he knew were not acceptable were suddenly totally acceptable. Awesome.

#2 had so little energy because he woke up at the crack of dawn to try to say goodbye to Daddy only to realize that Daddy had already left. Cue Tears. All. Day. Long. Only with breaks to whine. So I guess he too actually had a lot of energy since he managed to keep up the crying whining gig all day. Fairly impressive stamina if I might say.

#3 had so much energy that he held on tight at pre-school drop-off and wouldn’t let go for the life of him. Then of course he had so little energy because he wouldn’t nap because he just wanted to be with mommy every second of the day.

Yes, with one feverish child on hip and one separation anxiety ridden child holding onto my leg, I wobbled around throughout the day trying to keep my own impulse control in check so that I wouldn’t bounce off the walls or start alternating between crying and yelling. Because honestly, that is ALL I wanted to do.

Cry and yell.

I wanted to cry that vacation was over and that I was back to the go-go-go of the school world. I wanted to cry over my struggles as how to best parent to my four wonderful, yet at times demanding children. I wanted to cry over all the stress in my life.

Yes, I just wanted to sit on the floor, throw my hands up in the air, and cry until all the chaos disappeared and everyone had magically gotten back into the rhythm of reality.

But I didn’t. I totally could have. I am fine with showing emotions in front of my boys; I am fine with showing them that sometimes people cry when stressed. But for some dumba*s reason instead of giving into my need to release the stress, I walked around grumpier than grumpy and positioned to yell at anything and everything.

I finally had it. I was done. I had had enough of trying to keep it together. I had had enough of all the crazy energy, the crying, the whining, the clinging. I just wanted to stinking scream at each child. I picked up my Blackberry and emailed my husband.

“I quit. I simply don’t have the energy or patience to not yell. It is so exhausting. I don’t care anymore.”

And then the phone rang. Right on cue. Phew.

“Hey – what’s going on? Are you for real? You can NOT quit. You do not want to quit. I know you don’t mean it.”

And you know what, my husband was right. I didn’t want to quit; I did care, immensely. I just wanted the day to get easier (and to go back on vacation!)  I didn’t really want to quit and start yelling, I just wanted a little of my son’s abundant energy to help me find a little peace. Realizing what I really wanted, well that kept me focused on finding said peace. Or at least finding a piece of the peace. Okay. A really small piece of the peace. (But peace is peace, right?!)

Was the rest of the day perfect and abundantly peaceful? No. I still had to talk myself down when a hockey stick was accidentally thrown at me.  I still struggled and took a thousand deep breaths when three adorable, but defiant and over-silly children, wouldn’t get in the bathtub and then one wonderfully persistent four-and-a-half-year-old wouldn’t go to bed because his pajamas were missing. And I still struggled and had to remind myself constantly to not rush my darling separation anxiety ridden sudden when he would  not go to the bed for the life of him.

But I didn’t quit. Because I knew in my heart of hearts, that even though things were tough, my boys were struggling for good reason and I was struggling with them for the same exact reason. They didn’t need me yelling at them for feeling exactly what I was. Nope. And because I knew in my heart of hearts that quitting, while tempting, was the last thing I wanted to do.

Last day of “Staycation”, 425 days of loving more!

Dear Orange Rhinos,

We are lucky to have another honest, inspiring guest post. This writer has asked to stay anonymous and it goes without saying that I respect that! She is a married 35 year old working mother of two boys ages 6 and 2. She has been following the Orange Rhino page since last fall and actively trying to work on her progress since January. Many of you have asked me how to stop and catch myself. And that is why I love this post – here is how this mom does just that!

Happy T.H.I.N.King,
The Orange Rhino

*

I’ve been working on being a more patient person, especially with my boys. Not that I yell a lot (though when I do I instantly regret it.) More like I snap a lot or I am impatient a lot. I could be the snapping turtle or the impatient bunny or something. I’ve been doing great this last week or so.  I’m determined to overcome my impatience. I’ve seen successful days and I know it is possible. I’ve learned that the airlines are right about one thing: You have to put on your oxygen mask before your kids. In other words, take care of yourself so you can take care of them.

All the trigger tracking I’ve done with this challenge have shown one thing. When I write down why I yelled, snapped, or used a mean tone, nearly every time it is something like I am hungry or I am tired or I don’t feel well or I am distracted with something else or I am feeling impatient.  The common denominator in all those statements is “I”.  The boys can do the same exact thing in two situations, and if I am well rested, not distracted or hungry I react calmly.  If I am hungry/tired/stressed, I react impatiently.  Nearly every time the boys are just acting age appropriately like the small boys they are.  I am not acting age appropriately like the 35-year-old mom I am.

Someone needs to grow up here and it is not them.

I can’t rationally expect them to control their emotions and not throw temper tantrums when they watch me model temper tantrums to them. I know this, and it is improving.

I can see improvement.

I am noticing that when something happens that I would usually instantly snap “stop that” or “no”, I can pause for just a second to quick think.  Why do I feel I need to say no?  Is what they are doing dangerous?  Are we getting ready to leave so we can’t get out more toys?  Or am I saying “no” just as a habit and just because I don’t feel like dealing with the normal mess and noise that having young boys creates?  Usually if I can make myself pause, I can make the right choice.  Right now I just have to work on that pause button.

I need to focus on my relationship with my husband, too.  He is patient and wonderful not only with the boys but with me.  I don’t (usually) shout at him but I can be the most negative, demanding person at times (more times than I care to admit).  Seriously I don’t know how (or sometimes why) he puts up with me.  It is because he WILL put up with me at my worst behavior that he deserves my best behavior.  Just because he CAN and WILL do it does not mean he SHOULD have to do it.  So again I need to slow down my immediate reaction of saying the first (negative) thing that pops into my head and THINK first.  Is what I am going to say appropriate for this situation?  Is this something that a grown woman should be saying?  Or does it sound like a whiny child?

I did not create this acronym but I find it is helpful.

Before you speak, press your pause button and think.  Is what you are going to say?

T.rue
H.elpful
I.nspriring
N.ecesary
K.ind

I’ve been keeping track of my good times and bad times on a calendar. Each day is divided into 4 smaller squares.  If I get through 1/4 of the day nicely, I color a small square, etc.  The whole day and the whole large square is colored. Looking back at March so far, the majority of the days are 3/4 or fully colored.  That is great!  That shows I can do this; I can WIN.  And when I win, my whole family wins. 

6 days of “Staycationing”, 422 days of loving more!

Dear Orange Rhinos,

Here is the 2^nd guest post this week while I “staycation.” You all know I love music and how much it has helped me conquer the whole yelling thing. I of course thought I was the only one who found music so helpful. When fellow Orange Rhino Dianne Hibbs wrote this post and sent it to me I felt normal and inspired, both of which are always nice feelings! Dianne just finished her first 30 days of The Orange Rhino Challenge. Enjoy this honest post about how she started, how she made it, and how she feels now! 

Hope you are all having a good week and thanks Dianne!
The Orange Rhino

*

Hi, fellow Orange Rhinos! I am honored to be a guest blogger during T.O.R.’s well- earned staycation. I want to tell you how music has helped me with the Challenge. But first, please allow me to tell you how I got here.

I am a nice person. By nearly all accounts. I am compassionate and I generally like people and try to see the best in them. I have reasonably good manners. Which is why it came as a bit of a surprise to me when I realized I was a yelling mom. It was shocking to hear my rational, mild-mannered husband saying to me one day, “I just don’t see how you can yell at a 16-month old like that.” And my shrill shriek reply, “Put your head between this door and that door jamb and let him slam it on you like he just slammed it on me and you will see exactly how!”

True story.

That’s the earliest specific memory I have of it, and that’s an extreme incident, of course, but it grew from there and I saw myself becoming an everyday yelling mom. With all my heart, I wished I wasn’t. And I’ve been working on it diligently for years now with some successes and some failures. To be clear, I am a good mom. I love my kids to the moon and back and they know it. I’ve cared for, nurtured and encouraged them; celebrated their joys and introduced them to new ones; held them; dreamt with them; taught them and delighted in them. Sadly, I also yelled at them. Loudly and often. And not just when they slammed my head in a door.

Some say, “Oh, everyone yells at their kids!” I don’t disagree. But I was way past my comfort level and unsure how to turn it around.

So, I joined the Orange Rhino Challenge. We were asked to write on the password- protected part of the website about the time when we realized the yelling was something that had to change. I wrote about a day when my children (6 and 3) and I were looking at their baby books. The older one said, “Mommy, when I was little, did we have troubles?” We talked more, but I already knew what he meant. I could see the wheels turning in his smart little head as he tried to pinpoint when all this ugliness began. It broke my heart. Later, I decided,

“This is IT. He and his little sister may not remember when the yelling began, but they will remember what happens from here on out. And it will shape them. And it will define how they see me. It’s not too late to change, but it is TIME. NOW.”

In my quest to become a non-yeller, I’ve found music to be a great ally. Children’s music, in particular, has saved many a day for me and my children. You know that saying? “Music has charms to soothe the savage beast?” When my kids were younger, we found Susie Tallman’s Lullabies for Sleepy Eyes to be ethereal and soothing. (Full disclosure: Susie is my friend and I love her music so much that I started working about an hour a week for her, keeping up her Facebook page and writing posts on her blog.)

Many people play lullabies to soothe babies, of course, but I found it extremely helpful for the stressed, anxious, over stimulated, tired “beast” mom: Me. Other children’s music we tried was sometimes plinky, tinny, and agitating to me. I would play it to entertain and benefit the kids, but I found myself more irritated and ready to snap at them when it was on. When we listened to smooth and steady lullabies, played on real instruments by true musicians, the kids were happy and I was more calm. I started playing more lively music for fun family times together (still seeking out only better quality stuff, from Susie and other artists, after learning my lesson from the plinky) and would switch back to lullabies when I felt the volcano about to erupt, or after it already had. Even now, I still put on something classical as an act of prevention if we are about to start, say, a papier mâché project.

I believe good music of any style can be a great distraction, a positive outlet for our energy, a soother in tense moments, a way to bring the family together, and a source of inspiration as we work toward less yelling or even – gasp! – no yelling. I find that the kids are more engaged with the children’s music and my daughter will even complain, “Ugh! Dat’s gwown-up music!” when she gets in my car if I have the radio on.

When I began the challenge, I was very hopeful I would make it to the goal of no yelling, but I was only a little confident. As I read the incredibly honest and touching input from some of the 800+ parents participating along with me and the amazingly helpful insights and tips from T.O.R. herself, I felt my confidence rising. An important part of the process was identifying triggers that seem to lead to yelling (hint: often having very little, if anything, to do with the kids’ actual behavior) and learning how to eliminate them, modify them, or accept them. Each day that I made it to evening yell-free, I marveled. The support from the group and our leader enabled me to do what I had not done in all my previous attempts to have a calmer, happier home. At this writing, I am proud to say that I have actually made it 30 days in a row without yelling at my kids! (I yelled on day 31. Sigh. But 30 in a row is still fantastic!)

It’s an ongoing process, and sometimes I will slip. But I’m feeling liberated and wonderful. My husband and kids are thrilled and we’ve celebrated a great deal. What I’d done before had helped, but this site came exactly when I was ready for it and has been very important in making my non-yelling dream a reality.

Along the way, in each bit of progress, music has been important, too. Whether we are singing and laughing to Bare Naked Ladies’ Snack Time, dancing to our favorite Sesame Street music videos, or relaxing with Mozart, music guides us where we want to go. After a challenging morning recently, my daughter and I were listening to Ziggy Marley’s Family Time. He does a duet on that one with Paul Simon called “Walk Tall.” As we sang along, “Walk tall, walk tall . . . even if you fall, get up!” I realized the music was giving me a boost to keep up the hard work. “Nothing is ever gonna keep me down,” Ziggy and Paul sang, “I jump over hurdles, I’ll come around. And if at first I don’t succeed, I’m gonna try it again ‘til I get what I need.” The words resonated. And the irresistible rhythm and melody reminded me how much more fun it is to sing than to yell.

I salute you all as you take on this challenge. Tone down the yelling. Turn up the music! I wish you joy in your journey.

P.S. My son asked if he could share a message, too. Here it is: Hakuna Matata! (The Orange Rhino bets you’ll be singing that all night now…and hopefully tomorrow too instead of yelling!)

Hakuna Matata! (It means don’t worry for the rest of your days…it’s our problem free, philosopy, Hakuna Matata!)

Dianne Hibbs writes about sharing music with children on the Susie Tallman & Friends blog www.susietallman.com and Facebook page www.facebook.com/susietallmanandfriends and hopes you will visit her there for free music samples, tips, giveaways and more.

421 days of loving more!

Originally posted on July 22, 2012
166 days without yelling, 199 days of loving more to go!

Dear #1,

You and I are caught in a battle that needs to end. We’re both in bad moods and we’re bringing each other down. We are spiraling downwards fast as fast can be and we are starting to affect everyone around us. I am writing this post as my way of reminding myself about my commitment to parent with more warmth and composure, two words that I would not exactly use to describe me lately. Sure, I haven’t been yelling at you. But I have not been the mom I know I can be either, the mom that I know YOU NEED in order to help you out of your bad mood. When I see you today after camp I am going to swoop you up and give you a big hug and tell you I love you a thousand times. I am going to hold you until you feel settled. Until you feel safe that we won’t be in a car accident again. Until you feel secure that you aren’t dying anytime soon. Until you feel comfort knowing that even if the babysitter is leaving, mommy isn’t going anywhere. Until you feel more love than you have felt from me these last few days. Because I love you. And you deserve my love, not my wrath…

big hugs and kisses,
mommy orange rhino

*

It’s a vicious cycle that my son and I get stuck in. When we are BOTH stressed and anxious, sometimes for the same reasons, sometimes not, we quickly get stuck being impatient, rude and quite frankly, annoying towards each other. My son starts acting out: hitting ME more, yelling at ME more, crying more, listening less, smiling less. I start acting out too: snapping more, saying no more, listening less, engaging less, smiling less. In the beginning of the vicious cycle, I try my hardest to stay calm, patient, loving and understanding. I try not to take his actions personally. I try to help him in the ways I have learned how. But the problem is, my stress counteracts all my efforts. Because my stress scares him. It makes him worry even more.

And I can’t hide my stress. According to my husband, I’ve always had a bad poker face. This week has been no different. In fact, it’s been exceptionally bad.

I can’t hide my fear that I too will die and leave my kids without a mom. I can’t hide my anger that I had to fire the babysitter at the worst possible time. I can’t hide my frustration that with everything going on I also have to deal with a car accident AND with three angry and sad kids that daddy went back to work after an extended vacation.

And I can’t hide my frustration with my son that his meltdowns are back, tenfold.

I am trying. I am really, really trying. Trust me, I am. Because I know that all my fears and frustrations are written on my face and THAT is actually making my son feel worse. It is making him more anxious, more stressed. My behavior is making him act out more.

Which of course adds a whole new level of stress to my day. Because when he acts out from stress and fear, it is HARD to stop. The meltdowns are enormous. They are physical. And sometimes they are scary. And when they get this bad, my son needs me to be calm, and patient, and loving. He needs me to be all the things I am incapable of being at that moment because I have my own issues.

And because his behavior is making me feel worse. Because like my behavior is stressing him out, his behavior is stressing me out.

So we play this little game. Who can drive the other person nuts faster? We each keep acting stressed and making each other worse. And worse. And worse. It ain’t pretty.

And it’s a pain in the a*s. Because it is exhausting, physically and mentally. Why can’t he pull it together? Why can’t I pull it together? Darnit, I didn’t sleep again last night. Darnit, he didn’t sleep either. Crap, now we are both tired and even MORE overwhelmed and persnickety.

Last Thursday I FINALLY snapped out of it. I finally put an end to the game.

I was REALLY close to yelling at him. Really really close. I had had it with the screaming and the kicking and the throwing pillows. I had had it with feeling like I was the only parent to have a child act like this. I had had it with feeling embarrassed by his behavior. I had had enough of ALL OF IT. I had had it with my week. With the stress. I had had it with him. I was done being patient. I was done being The Orange Rhino.

I walked away as a toy was thrown at me and went to seek solace in The Orange Rhino facebook page.

I looked at the computer screen. And I saw 44, no 45, no 48, no 60 new people had found my page and started following along. I was immediately reminded of my promise to my boys, to all of you and I stopped dead in my tracks. Seriously.

I looked at him and said, “#1, what is wrong? Why are you so angry? Why are you throwing things at me?”

He burst into tears.

“I am angry that the babysitter is leaving. Why doesn’t she love me?”

I held him in my arms so tight and rocked his almost 6 year old body like a baby. He crumpled into my lap and arms and sat and cried and cried and cried. Those tears kicked me in the ass. Those tears reminded me that when in a vicious cycle with him, he NEEDS ME. I AM THE ONE RESPONSIBLE FOR ENDING the cycle. I am the adult. I am the one who, no matter how hard it is, needs to find the strength and patience to give my son what he needs to “snap out of it.” I am the one who needs to stop and ask, what is going on?

When my son is in a bad mood, rightfully or wrongfully, I need to keep on loving him. When my son is struggling, I need to be an Orange Rhino. I need to find warmth and composure. I need to be patient and calm. I need to be understanding.

When my son and I are in a vicisious cycle of bringing each other down, I have two choices: make it worse or make it better. I finally made it better. It took me days to realize this, it took me days to GROW UP and realize my son needed me. But at least I finally did. And not just because it kept me from yelling, but because it allowed me to love my son more. And really, that is all he needed. To be loved more.

Day 3 of my “Staycation”, day 419 of my “Yellcation”

Dear Orange Rhinos,

In my absence this week, I am fortunate to have several guest posts from fellow Orange Rhinos. Each post is beautifully honest and beautifully inspiring and very relatable. Very. I have yelled through clenched teeth in the past. I have wondered if my kids were as miserable as I. And I have most certainly felt that I have failed at a parent. Read this wonderful guest post tonight by Dana S. and know that you are not alone.

Best and Thank You Dana for having the courage to share,
The Orange Rhino

*

It was my husband’s birthday weekend and his wish was to spend Saturday at the track so I was home with the kiddos. The last several weeks had seen bad weather and more bad weather, creating an atmosphere of cabin fever that would drive Daniel Boone to the Fontainebleau.  Tempers had therefore been short and fuses had been growing shorter by the minute so we decided to surprise Daddy and take him lunch at the track.

I had been yelling at the kids since 7am and already had a headache, just from being angry.

Our good-deed-outing unfortunately deteriorated and only served to create more havoc. Once we arrived at the track, I was in such a bad mood that despite the fact that the kids behaved fairly well there was just no snapping me out of it. I strapped the kids into the stroller and rolled out the front door toward the parking lot.  As soon as I got out the door, I heard yelling, cussing and crying.  I looked up to find a young dad beating his little boy’s butt while his young son cried for him to stop and his dad continued to hit him while chastising him because the little boy apparently laughed out of turn.  He then stopped and almost threw him into his car seat while mom sat in the front seat silently and another sibling also sat silently in the back seat.  Dad looked up at me coming out the front door pushing my two young kids and I don’t believe he could have cared less that I witnessed his downright brutal punishment of that 5ish year old boy.

I pushed my stroller across the parking lot to my SUV in silent shock. As I fished out my keys, both my kids began to jump out of the stroller in a busy parking lot—an obvious no-no.  All the emotions and chaos of the day boiled over in me and before they completely cleared the stroller, I bent down and got in both their faces.

I began yelling through clenched teeth for them to get back into the stroller immediately—yes, safety first, I know—but it didn’t stop there.  All my frustrations rolled out as I yelled, my teeth remaining clenched, red in the face, standing between the cars out in that busy parking lot. 

And you know I was waving my finger in the air.  Finally I had said my piece and stood up, just in time to make eye contact with a couple in their mid-fifties who had emerged from their car and had watched me deliver the conclusion of my yell-fest.  There was no way they could hear what I said, but we all know that body language often speaks louder than words.  The realization of an audience made my heart stop and I swear I felt the blood drain out of my face.  They kept moving and probably had never even noticed me there, but the damage was done.  The kids fell asleep on the car ride home and I used the drive to reconsider myself as a parent: comparing myself to the dad who appeared so angry at his son for laughing, realizing I hadn’t enjoyed my kids for 5 full minutes that day nor laughed with them, and realized how miserable it made me feel—and I had tears rolling down my face when the realization dawned on me that my kids could potentially be as miserable with me.

Something had to change.

I came home and put my sleeping beauties to bed and fired up the laptop.  I started on Pinterest and low and behold, someone had pinned a rather innocuous description: “Don’t yell at your kids for 365 days”. I spent the rest of naptime combing the entire Orange Rhino site from front to back and top to bottom.  Hubby got home from the track and I went right back to T.O.R. site.  Not only was the premise exactly what I needed after my failed parenting day but the author was Real. Normal. Relatable. And there were other real, normal, relatable parents on the site and on Facebook who were doing this.  If they could do this, so could I.

I started the very next day.  The first day, I found it remarkably easy to “behave” myself and keep an even keel by having a goal, a purpose if you will: not to yell.  The second day wasn’t as easy, although I remained a success.  I had to make an effort to think before I spoke so that I wouldn’t lose control of my emotions nor my volume.  The next couple days, admittedly I stayed around Level 4 but I counted it a success because I kept The Orange Rhino Challenge in the forefront of my mind and continued to think before I spoke and didn’t yell. And I saw a change in my household.

My kids were calmer; they listened better; they were somewhat…slightly…a little bit quieter.  My husband had seen me on T.O.R. site every night and finally researched it himself, and even though he had never been a yeller, he also began to make a conscious effort to control his tone and began reminding me of The Orange Rhino Challenge if either of us began to get frustrated with a kid.

That’s not to say it’s been smooth sailing the entire way.  We’ve had to restart the challenge quite a few times.  I yelled and when I did, I gasped and realized what I had done, saw the look of shock on my kid’s face because she knew Mama had been making an effort, and immediately felt like crap about myself.  I’m always transported back to the parking lot that day when that dad was beating his little boy’s butt and cussing him out for laughing.

I have struggled—struggled—with this challenge, and I realize our family has unique circumstances that classify us as uber stressed, but that’s all the more reason to work even harder to make this challenge a success.  I am writing this at 10pm on March 27 and I yelled at my kids approximately 3 hours ago.  I am going to take the next 3 days to regroup, reread The Orange Rhino website and print some resources and reminders, and begin a new challenge on April 1. My husband and I are going to begin this new challenge together and take it one week at a time.  I’ve signed up to be a part of the next 30 Day Challenge so I hope that by then I’ll have my methods figured out and at least several consecutive, successful weeks under my belt. As The Orange Rhino herself has said, just the fact that you’re making an effort to do something is to be celebrated!

Note: These thoughts are all Dana’s. I didn’t not ask her to say anything specific about me or The Challenge! And today is your day Dana. April 1st: it’s no joke…I believe you can do this!

My name is The Orange Rhino and even though I have gone 415 days without yelling, as you all know, due to a big ‘ole personal challenge, lately I am STRUGGGGLING.

Every morning I wake up and I look at my orange painted toenails and think to myself “I am going to be calm today. I am not going to be grumpy. I am not going to get snap happy and I am not going to yell.”  And then thirty minutes pass and I already feel my blood pressure rising. I feel my palms starting to sweat. I feel my patience waning. I feel myself thinking “UGH. I just want to yell and shout and let it all out!”

Exactly.

I want to yell and shout and let it all out.

But yelling at my boys is not an option I will choose. I simply will not because I know it doesn’t work and just makes me feel crappier. As much as my body thinks that is what I want to do, I know better. I know that yelling is not what I want to do. No, when I feel like I want to yell what I really want is to feel more peaceful inside.

When I want to yell, what I really want is…to feel better.
When I want to yell, what I really want is…to have the house picked up.
When I want to yell, what I really want is…to have the house quieter.
When I want to yell, what I really want is…to release some of my stress.
When I want to yell, what I really want is…to feel in control.
When I want to yell, what I really want is…to feel listened to.
When I want to yell, what I really want is…to cry.
When I want to yell, what I really want is…to get my kids attention.

When I want to yell, what I want, what I really, really want is a loving (easier) moment with my kids instead of the stressful, frustrating, annoying moment that I am currently in.

It is for all of these reasons, that I started doing such silly alternatives to yelling because they allow all of the above to happen, without the yelling. Banging my chest like a gorilla? Gets the built-up stress out. Turning the lights off? Gets my boys to quiet down, instantly. Blowing bubbles? Grabs my kid’s attention. Making a horn with my hand and tooting it? Gets my kids to listen. Yelling into the fridge? Gets me to cool down so that I can calmly asked for the house to get picked up.

Yes, all of my silly alternatives are just that, silly. But they work. They get me to calm down so that I can say what I need to, so that I can do what I need to, so that I can say and do what I know makes me an effective yet peaceful and loving mom.

Like getting down to my kids eye-level and talking to them, asking them to get their shoes…again.

Like asking them why are they crying and whining and then repeating it back to them so that I can have empathy.

Like hugging them when they are frustrated because their brother broke their Lego creation…again.

Like putting my to-do list aside for 5 minutes so that I can really be present and connected with them.

I know (okay well not all the time, okay definitely not all the time) how to be as effective a parent as I can be. But, I can never access that information and do it when I am all worked up in a twit. Nope, can’t do it. So I work to un-twit myself. The other day the boys were running around and screaming and it was driving me so nuts that I wanted to scream “SHUT UP!!!” but instead I decided that I needed to scream and run. So I did. I stopped making breakfast and ran around the house for 2 minutes with my boys. IT ROCKED and was just what I needed. I then said “okay boys, enough running and yelling. We have gotten it out of our system and now it is time to color and be quieter while I make breakfast.” WIN.

There are times of course where it is not as easy to un-twit. When I just truly want to cry. So I do. Yep, I have cried in front of my boys and I am okay with that. When they ask “Mommy, why are you crying?” I just say “Because boys, I am stressed out and having a rough moment. But I feel better now. Thanks for asking about me.”

And there are times when I have no bloody clue what to do because they are so trying and because this is the first time I have been a mom. Yes, I have four boys but oh each ones has different needs; each one I need to respond to a little differently, so no, I don’t always have a clue! Sometimes I don’t know how to help my kids, or how to help myself. Sometimes I just don’t know what to do next. Yeah, these clueless moments are always fun moments {sarcasm font} because it is in those moments that I know I am just a second away from yelling. It is in those moments that I take a deep breath, call a friend, or start talking to myself telling myself that I can do this, telling myself that I WANT TO DO THIS. That I WANT to yell less and love more!

I learned recently that sometimes for lots of different reasons, it is hard to admit what I really want; it is hard to tell the truth to myself. I have also learned that it is hard to go forward when I don’t know what I want, or rather when I am not honest with myself as to what I want.  And I learned that even when I finally know what I want, like to be a non-yelling parent, that I can’t get there if I don’t continually keep reminding myself of what I want.

And well, at the end of the day, what I really want with my kiddos are a bunch more loving moments. I don’t want to yell, I just want a peaceful moment with my kiddos. I want to feel calm inside. I want to laugh with them. I want to smile at them. I want them to trust me. I want them to hug me. I want them to know how very much I love them.

And I want to struggle less than I am right now. I need to remind myself why I am taking The Orange Rhino Challenge so that I stay on task so tonight I am adding to my list of alternatives to yelling. It is both a silly and serious alternative and also per this afternoon, a tested and approved one.

When I really want to yell I am going to add a little Spice Girls into my life. I am going to sing…

“I’ll tell ya what I want, what I really really want, I wanna (huh) have peace and I wanna (huh) love you!”

(And for the record, I never really wanted to bring Spice Girls back into my life. But hey, whatever works!)

414 days of loving more…and growing more calm!

Dear Orange Rhinos,
Tonight’s post is written by fellow Orange Rhino Francesca Kaplan Grossman. She shared it with me recently and well, her conclusion rocked me to my core because it is exactly what I have been working on the past year and it is exactly what I need to do more than ever right now, especially in light of my last post (here.) Thank you Francesca for writing such a beautiful piece and bravely sharing it with us.

The Orange Rhino

*
Growing Calm
By Francesca Kaplan Grossman

I am really good at growing things. When I was sixteen, I found a small round marble under my right nipple. When I was twenty-two, I was brave enough to have it removed. When I was twenty-three I found out I had been growing all of this extra inflamed tissue in my stomach, rendering me essentially housebound for a year with Crohns disease. I’ve gotten out since then. When I was twenty-nine, I lost my thyroid to cancer. Then I grew twenty-five pounds from having no thyroid. My body burgeons like April in Virginia. Seriously. If I it were physically possible for skin to bloom cherry blossoms, I think I could do it.

All of the mini-gestation periods my body has undergone- the autoimmune, over-inflamed, swollen, thick, cancer parts that have grown – made me certain that my body was severely compromised and getting actually pregnant (with a baby) wouldn’t be so easy.

The fertility doctor, a small man with a kind smile, said,

“If you aren’t 36 yet, don’t worry, I can get you pregnant.”

I wanted to say,

“Well, I appreciate that, but I think I’ll stick with my husband.”

But I didn’t want to seem rude.

“What’s different at 36?” I asked him.

“The eggs. The eggs are different. They are older. And your body has been through a lot, so the eggs might present themselves as even older than that. We should get going.”

Again? Again I was growing bad things? The very things that would grant or deny me my children? I couldn’t stomach it.

I went home and fell asleep next to my painfully optimistic husband and I dreamt of an endless grocery store full of puckered cardboard egg cartons. I flew through the aisles, opening every one. In some cases they were empty, in others, rotten, leaking thick yellow mush.

I panicked and made the next possible appointment.

“I’ll do whatever needs to be done,” I said, nodding my head, agreeing with myself.

“Well, how about this, why don’t you guys try on Thursday,” the doctor answered, and smiled kindly again. “If that doesn’t work, we’ll try something else.”

We were pregnant by Friday.

And two years later we did it again, but this time on our own. I was growing good things. Healthy things. Beautiful things. Babies.

I cannot remember a time in my adult life that I have felt as healthy as when I was pregnant. Both times, I threw up constantly, my face erupted in pimples, I was swollen, and pocked, flushed and saggy. My feet only fit in flip flops, my rings had to come off. I was short breathed and heart burned. I couldn’t sleep. I missed sushi.

But I felt amazing. Finally, once, and then twice, my body was working correctly. Functioning. Flourishing. I was finally growing something inside of me that wasn’t going to kill me.

I feel done having kids. We are so fortunate to have two healthy, happy ones. But I miss being pregnant. And I am devastated that I will never feel that way again: the power, the gift of having something pure grow inside me. I hate that the next time I feel something growing it won’t have sharp elbows or a pink angel kiss on the forehead. I hate that instead of palming my belly to feel movement of a life, I fingertip-explore my body for lumps of danger. I hate that it will always be possible that there is something wrong, and it will never be that kind of right again.

For a little while, this thought crushed me. What would I do if I could never grow anything positive again?

But recently it occurred to me that something else has been growing inside of me for the past few years. Something good.

I have been growing calm. Like a soft golden nugget way deep down, it grows, and has slowly been filling up my chest for the past four years since I had my first child. Further plumping up since I had my second one.

I wasn’t always a calm person. Just ask my husband. Or my sister. Or my cat. I was anxious, and quick to judge, sometimes angry for no reason at all. I also did it all pretty quietly, keeping it inside. I allowed it to fester. I allowed it to grow.

I’m neither medical enough nor yogi enough to know if that anxiety and judgment and anger snowballed into the terribleness that grew inside of me all of those years, but I can not believe it had no connection.

Which is why when I miss an important commitment because I screwed up on the dates, I apologize, and let it go. When my children drive me to the edge, I do not yell, but breathe in deep. When my husband and I fight, I walk away, and then walk back to him to figure it out. When my cat forgets we have a litter box, when my daughter pours honey on the floor, when my son cries that I am the meanest mom ever in the middle of the grocery store, I choose to go against the fury.

I have to let the calm grow. Because it has immediate purpose, and I recognize and respect it for the power it yields. It protects me.

*

The Orange Rhino’s response: “I have to let the calm grow.” YES. I too was not always a calm person. Shoot, I am still not as calm as I wish but I am nurturing the calm within me and I am helping it to grow. Like Francesca writes, I believe calm can grow. I believe positive things can grow inside of us even when negative things used to grow. I am proof, and Francesca’s story is proof that calm can grow. So let it. Let your yells go and let the calm grow. Nurture it by practicing yelling less, by being patient with yourself and the yelling less process, by letting things go and by forgiving yourself on days that you are not as calm as you wish. Here’s to all of us Orange Rhinos growing a little more calm each day! Again, thank you Francesca for sharing.