334 days without yelling, 31 days of loving more to go!

Dear Crayola Washable Markers,

Nothing says lets get this Friday morning started like turning around and seeing one son’s door covered in bright yellow marker. Nothing says let’s test mom by finding one of her favorite washcloths and trying to wash the marker off. Nothing says “hey mom can you stay cool at 6 in the morning” if we leave the wet wash cloth on the floor AND leave the guilty marker right next to it so when you jump after stepping on the wet wash cloth you fall.  Yep, nothing says, good morning like all of the above and yet, I thank you for the “colorful” morning. No really, thanks. You may have really ticked me off but at least you further motivated me to not ever return to yelling at my boys. So for that, I thank you. For the extra work you created? Not so much.

Anywho, cheers!
The Orange Rhino

*

I picked up the marker and approached sons 1 and 2. Lucky for them, I had showered already that morning and was awake, refreshed and relaxed.

“Boys, who drew on the door?” I calmly asked.
“He did!
“No he did!”
“No really he did, and he drew on my wall, my blinds, my bed, my desk and my toys too!”

(Photo courtesy: Marketplace.com)

I SLOWLY opened the bedroom door. Sigh. The last statement was more than true. The once white, green, and blue room was now white, green, blue and neon yellow. Awesome. Really? Really either a 4 year old or a 6 year old thought that it would be okay to decorate with a marker? I was flabbergasted. I slowly and calmly opened my breath, praying that I didn’t scream. Praying that patience found me.

“Boys. I don’t care who did it, what I care about is the truth. I just want to know the truth. I won’t be angry if you tell me the truth. I’ll be angry if you lie.”

And that was the truth. I didn’t want to scream at either one of them. I just wanted to know the truth so that I could have a meaningful conversation with the artist and reinforce that we don’t draw on walls, that we draw on paper.

There was silence. I looked back and forth between both boys. Eyes watched me.

“Boys, I’m not going to yell.  I promise, I am not going to yell. I just want to know the truth.” I reiterated.

A quiet voice spoke.

“I did it. I’m sorry. I just well, I just, I don’t know why I did it.”

“Okay. Listen. That was not acceptable. You know we don’t color on the walls. Lets clean this up together.”

“Okay” he mumbled as he started cleaning with me.

And that was that. I stopped and think. Sh*t. Was I too lax? Should I have been harsher? Did I get my message across? Did my son get the point?

You know what, I believe he did get the point. He got it when he lost 5 minutes out of playtime because he had to clean. He got it just by looking at my face. And he got it when I spoke to him calmly and clearly; he certainly wouldn’t have gotten it if I had yelled.  But do you know what really mattered to me more than, did my son get the point, and phew, I didn’t yell? The fact that my son felt safe enough to tell me the truth even though he knew I was beyond angry.

I am not sure I could have said that pre-Orange Rhino Challenge. When I used to yell, I mean really yell, I made my boys scared of me; I made them scared to tell me the truth. But now, 332 days later, my son wasn’t scared that I would yell so he freely fessed up to his artistic endeavor. In all my six years of parenting and pondering what kind of mom I hoped to be, this was the first time I realized just how much I always want my boys to feel safe enough to tell me the truth, no matter how ugly it may be.

If my son hits someone at school because he was bullied…I want him to tell me the truth so I can help him.

If my son “borrows” a candy bar from Target…I want him to tell me the truth so I can teach him.

If my son gets in trouble in high school doing gosh only knows what and is scared…I want him to tell me the truth so that I can comfort him.

There are so many things I want to be able to do for my boys, both in good times and in bad. But the truth is that I can only do those things if we have a trusting and loving relationship.  The truth is, as I witnessed this morning, my best chance to do those things is if I keep on not yelling.

*

Not 10 hours after this incident, two other boys wanted my attention. I was busy. So they took green and blue markers and colored on as many white walls as possible. I was LESS THAN thrilled. In fact, I was PISSED. I started to feel a yell rumble and I thought of this blog post. I thought about creating, and a maintaining, a trusting, safe relationship with my sons and my yell subsided. I hope this post does the same for you!

What kind of parent do you want to be? How does yelling hold you back from that?

332 days without yelling, 33 days of loving more to go!

Dear Orange Rhinos,

Some of you have probably shared a goal with friends and family this week about no more yelling. And I’m guessing from personal experience that the following may have happened:

You were told that your goal of no more yelling is crazy. You were told you don’t stand a chance. You were told, by yourself, that you should just quit and give up. And so I am going to tell you otherwise.

You aren’t crazy. You do stand a chance, a gigantic chance. And don’t quit when you slip, remember that you haven’t failed, you have just fought to show your kids you love them so and you are ready to try again.

Because YOU ARE A FIGHTER. You are fighting to be the best mom you can be in any moment. You are fighting to change, which is brave and admirable and amazing. You are fighting to prove to yourself that you can do hard things, even when you and the world think you can’t.

YOU ARE A FIGHTER. You are doing this for the kids, for yourself. You are gonna turn heads this year as you change. You are going to make other parents stop and think, “wow, that mom handled that situation really well. And without yelling.”

It is Friday, a day when I share a favorite song that has rocked my world and kept me going during this challenge. I LOVE this song. I’ve highlighted the lines that really spoke to me and inspired me. Read the words and listen to the song; maybe even add it to a playlist.

And remember, I am fighting right along side with you. If you feel like throwing the towel in, if it has been one jab too many, email me and I’ll help you get back up.

The Orange Rhino

*

The Fighter by Gym Class Heroes.
(Original lyrics. My additions are in parentheses. The actual song can be played after the lyrics and you can find two other Favorite Songs that I love.)

Yeah!
Just waking up in the morning
And to be well, (and to get through the day without losing it)
Quite honest with ya,
I ain’t really sleep well
Ya ever feel like your train of thought’s been derailed? (yes, always)
That’s when you press on – Lee nails
Half the population’s just waitin to see me fail
Yeah right, you’re better off trying to freeze hell
Some of us do it for the females
And others do it for the retail

But I do it for the kids, life threw the towel in on
Everytime you fall it’s only making your chin strong
And I’ll be in your corner like mick, baby, til the end
Or when you hear a song from that big lady

Until the referee rings the bell
Until both your eyes start to swell
Until the crowd goes home
What we gonna do ya’ll?

Give em hell, turn their heads
Gonna live life til we’re dead.
Give me scars, give me pain.
Then they’ll say of me, say of me, say of me.
There goes the fighter, there goes the fighter
Here comes the fighter
That’s what they’ll say of me, say of me, say of me,
This one’s a fighter

And if I can last thirty rounds
There’s no reason you should ever have your head down
Six foot five, two hundred and twenty pounds
Hailing from rock bottom, loserville, nothing town

Text book version of a kid going nowhere fast
And now I’m yelling “kiss my ass”
It’s gonna take a couple right hooks, a few left jabs
For you to recognize you really ain’t got it bad

…

If you fall pick yourself up off the floor (get up)
And when your bones can’t take no more (c’mon)
Just remember what you’re here for
Cuz I know Imma damn sure (MY KIDS)

Give em hell, turn their heads
…
Here comes the fighter (THAT’s YOU!)
That’s what they’ll say of me, say of me, say of me,
This one’s a fighter

‘Til the referee rings the bell
‘Til both ya eyes start to swell
‘Til the crowd goes home,
What we gonna do kid? (We’re gonna do this. It’s gonna be hard. We’re gonna wanna quit. We’re gonna fall down. But we’re gonna get up. And try again. It will be a process. But we’ll get there. Every moment is a win. Every MOMENT is a way.)

Here are my two other Favorite Song Fridays:
Seasons of Love (click here)
Just know you’re not alone(click here)

330 days of not yelling, 35 days of loving more to go!

Dear Staycation,

Oh I loved you so. I loved waking up and having nowhere to go, nowhere to drive. I loved waking up and having all my boys, all 5 of them, in my bed snuggling, being lazy. I loved having my 5 boys home all day to just hang out with. To play with. To laugh with. To smile at. To enjoy. And now you are done and I am sad and oh so cranky and impatient. But guess what? My kids are more so and we can’t all be that way. I guess I need to be the adult and be calm and empathetic until we all re-adjust. In the meanwhile, can you please make plans to come back soon?

Fondly,
The Orange Rhino

*

The extra hyper behavior, the extra tears over small things, and the extra amount of time dedicated to not listening, all made it very clear that my emotional carbon copy, son #1, was struggling with vacation coming to an end just as much as me. And all these “extras” certainly made our last day on vacation with him extra hard. It made both my husband and me extra impatient, my husband more so though.

You see, I was at least able to be extra empathetic because I knew what my son was feeling. I too wanted to run around crazy because I was so full of sadness that I didn’t know what to do with myself. I too wanted to cry over everything because I had had such a great staycation that I didn’t want it to end. I too didn’t want to listen to the “get-ready-to-go-back-to-real-life” voice in my head because I just wanted to stay in vacationland, the land of no constraints, the land of lots of family time.

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t ignore real life coming back and I couldn’t lose it with my son even though I kind of wanted to. So instead I listened to the other voice in my head, the one that kept saying over and over and over again “Do not YELL at your son. Yes, he is acting out and struggling BUT it isn’t because he is trying to be difficult or annoying it is because he is having a hard time. Love him. Listen to him. Be patient with him. Tell him you too are sad but how happy you are for the fun time we did have. Reassure him that it will be the weekend soon. Whatever you do DON’T YELL at him. He needs love right now, not anger. And besides, you will kick yourself in the a*s if you end vacation on a bad note.”

Oh I am glad I listened to that voice. Because it was right.

As we all headed up for bedtime, #1 starting running around crazy and ignoring each and every simple request asked of him. Please put your clothes in the laundry basket. No. Please get in the bath. No. Please brush your teeth. No. PLEASE LISTEN. NO NO NO! Oh dear #1 was doing everything to avoid going to bed, to avoid ending vacation. Can you blame him?

Well, my hubby did and started to lose his cool (can’t blame him either). I interrupted.

“Babe, don’t get angry with him. He is just having a hard time.” I said.

“No he’s not. He’s fine.”

I knew better. My days of The Orange Rhino Challenge, my days of paying attention to my kids, like really paying attention, told me the truth about this situation.

“He’s not. Trust me. Please.” I pleaded as I turned around to rally three other kids into a bath.

And at that point, as much as I wanted to cry, I laughed. You see, my mother-in-law always gives me gifts with thoughtful sayings about motherhood. And I always kind of laugh them off as “oh, just another Hallmark gift I’ll never use.” But this year, she gave me something that I just can’t laugh off:

Tonight, this saying rang loud and clear in my head. YES. It is so true. Today, tonight, I knew what my son was feeling without him saying it. But, that is only because of The Orange Rhino Challenge. This challenge has taught me to tune in to my kids’ feelings. To believe they are real. To believe that kids have real emotions too. To believe that sometimes kids have bad days too. The Orange Rhino Challenge has taught me to try and first understand what a child does not say before yelling unnecessarily.

After I tucked three kiddos in I went back to tuck #1 in. As I opened his door I saw a little head perk up from the pillow and the sweetest words fell from his lips:

“Mommy, I’m so sad.”

I rushed right over. He had NEVER so clearly explained his emotions. It both broke and filled my heart.

“What’s wrong sweetie?” I asked wiping tears away from his face.

“I don’t want December to end. I don’t want to go back to school. I don’t want daddy to work. I want to play with my new toys all day. I want to stay home with you. And I don’t want to miss the Superbowl.”

Oh the innocence. The truth. I snuggled into bed with him and cried right along with him. I told him mommy felt the same way. I told him I too was sad but how happy I was for our fun vacation. I told him much I loved him and that it would be the weekend again before he knew it. I told him we could play with his toys during all the months. And not to worry, the Superbowl wasn’t until February! I gave him one last hug and kiss and walked out.

And then I thought to myself as I wiped away a last tear,

“Phew. I’m so glad I didn’t yell tonight and instead had a chance to snuggle with my son and be there for him, with him. Oh, I feel so much better.”

This is just one moment WON from not yelling. Here is another one… https://theorangerhino.com/is-it-really-worth-it/ 

328 days of not yelling, 37 days of loving more to go!

Dear Orange Rhinos,

This is my best attempt of summarizing how I stopped yelling at my four boys and stopped feeling the awful guilt, anger, disappointment, sadness, and hopelessness inside every single time I yelled. It isn’t scientific and it isn’t backed up by an advanced degree in childhood behavior, therapy, life coaching or any topic you might think relevant to this subject. What it is, however, is an honest, from the trenches account from a real mom and it is something that YOU can do. I am not going to tell you it was easy. It wasn’t. It was hard. BUT it was DOABLE. And I am not going to tell you it is one, single, concrete thing you can do at the moment you want to yell. It isn’t. It is a process and it takes work. BUT again, it is DOABLE.

Good luck!
The Orange Rhino

*

Step 1: Acknowledge that you need to change, Decide that you want to change, and fully Commit to changing. I didn’t just casually do these things, I REALLY acknowledged, REALLY decided, REALLY committed. Changing a bad habit is a big job. It required an equally big amount of energy and focus. I gave The Orange Rhino Challenge MY ALL. I took it seriously, I made it a real priority, I believed in it and myself, and I promised myself I was going to do whatever it took to succeed. 

Step 2: Set a Goal. Yes, 365 days straight is a bit severe but it was a clear and inspiring goal, for me. Pick a goal for you that isn’t too vague, isn’t too overwhelming but is also motivational and measurable. Pick a goal that will help you yell LESS and build confidence. Some ideas beyond 365 days: 30 days without yelling, 30 bedtimes without yelling, 1 week without yelling. For more ideas read this blog post: Forget 365.

Step 3: Share your Goal to Create Accountability. I told my friends and family about my goal in order to make it “real” and not just a casual idea. Yes, it was hard to admit that I yelled too much but I knew it was important to have a group of people to be accountable to and share my progress with.

Step 4:  Create a Support Network. There are four people I wouldn’t have survived this without.
(a) The Pep-Talker: The person you can call when you want to quit who will always tell you not to, that you can do it and that you’re doing great. This is my hubby’s job!
(b) The Texter: The person (people) you can text whenever you feel the urge to yell. Choose people who you know will reply back quickly with a supportive “don’t do it!”
(c) The Children: As in your children. Whenever my boys sense I’m getting ready to yell they say “Orange Rhino!” It works wonders. Wonders.
(d) The Orange Rhino Facebook Community. These are the people who can give you advice, encouragement on bad days, and hooray’s! on good days.  These are the people who will stand by you without judgment, who will remind you that you are not alone and who will inspire you to keep going.

Step 5: Track your Triggers. This is the part no one wants to do, but needs to do! My first 10 days I wrote down on orange post-it notes when I yelled, why I yelled, my mood, my kids mood, time of day etc. Tracking helped me:
(a) Create a mental alarm system that now goes off BEFORE I yell. (ie. Warning! Legos all over floor. You will yell. Prepare yourself for self-control. )
(b) Identify small problems that can easily be fixed and larger problems that can be focused on one at a time (ie. rushing in morning makes me yell, put out breakfast plates at night)
(c) Gain self-awareness that 9 out of 10 times underneath the “triggers” was the real trigger, my mood, and that therefore I needed to focus on my role in the “wanting to yell situation,” not just the kids. (ie. I want to yell because the kids are too loud, but REALLY I’m just tired) and ultimately
(d) Create a preventative measures plan to practice (eat well, exercise, go to sleep earlier, don’t bottle up emotions, etc…)
Read my post on Tracking your Triggers here.

Step 6: Start practicing slowly. Learning not to yell AT your kids is a big change; take baby steps and know that it takes practice! First, I taught myself to yell AWAY from my kids. I stilled yelled, but not at them, not in their faces. Instead I yelled in closets, toilets, cupboards, cars, boxes, shoes, bags. I yelled anywhere BUT at them. After, I trained myself to turn away AND not say the mean words. I let out yells (ARGH!!!!), animal sounds (Roar!), whistles and whatever else came to my voice.  The key here is repetition and accepting that “I can not always control my kids action, but I CAN always control my reaction.”

Step 7: Keep Practicing! After ten days of feeling silly yelling into the toilet and making animal sounds all day, and realizing that I DID have the self control to not yell at my boys, the desire to yell faded. I turned my energy towards (1) finding and practicing new ways to stay calm, (2) identifying, understanding and alleviating triggers, and (3) owning up to my own mood as the REAL source of the problem. Yes, I kept working at everything until I found my groove. For 100 Alternatives to Yelling that I tried, click here.

Step 8: Keep Goal top of mind. I practically decorated the house and myself in orange for a month straight to keep my promise top of mind; and I still do. Serve orange foods, wear orange, post sweet, gentle, “I can’t imagine yelling at that precious” baby pictures in problem areas, do whatever works to keep you focused on your goal.

Step 9: Persevere when you yell. In the beginning I restarted several times. I was discouraged until I started reminding myself that this was a process, that it would take time, and that the upside of yelling was that I learned about a trigger and what response to calm myself didn’t work. I didn’t fail; I just got more data points for how to succeed! Besides, telling myself I failed just made me feel crankier and yell more. So I stopped being so hard on myself, and when I did yell, I forgave myself, apologized to my kids, and promised to keep on trying.

Step 10: Celebrate when you succeed. Any moment I didn’t yell was a success, even if I had yelled moments before, and I celebrated those moments with either a fist pump in the air (yes, I did that!) or posting on Facebook. Everyone needs visual positive reinforcement too; my countdown clock on my blog does that for me. Other ideas for you: Make an orange heart on a calendar for every day you don’t yell, put an orange m&m in a jar for every moment you don’t yell, place an orange post it note on the wall near where you didn’t yell. Get creative but praise yourself!

Step 11: Stop Yelling, Start Thinking, Continue Calmly. And yes, despite all of the above, there are still moments where I feel a yell brewing. And then I turn to this mantra. STOP the Yell. (close my mouth, clench my hands, count to 10). START thinking (what’s the trigger, what calms me down, how can I proceed) and continue CALMLY.

Step 12: Remember that you are not alone, that I believe in you and that I am here to help you!

* It was HARD to learn to not yell and HARD to summarize all I did in a short blog post. If you want more information, comment and I will add it in future blog posts or point you in the right direction! Or read these posts mentioned above:

For goal setting: Forget 365 Days
For tracking triggers, a very useful step: Tracking My Triggers
For alternatives to yelling: 100 Alternatives

316 days without yelling, 49 days of LOVING MORE to go.

“Tonight, we will all hug our kids a little tighter.”
“Tonight I kissed my kids more than ever.”
“Tonight putting my kids to bed didn’t feel like a chore, but a privilege.”
“Today I told my daughter I loved her over and over again.”

Last Friday night from the President to my Facebook feed to my twitter feed, there were lots of popular sentiments but one that stuck with me is that everyone declared that that day, that night they would hug their kids tighter.

I get that. I am NOT disputing it. I did too. I hugged my sweet boys as long as they would physically let me. I kissed them more times than perhaps that week combined. And I told them “I love you” even when they were sound asleep and couldn’t hear me say it anymore. Yes, I did just as every parent across America seemed to do Friday night.

But the next morning all the statements and my actions made me think. What about on Saturday? On Sunday? Next Saturday? 10 Sundays from now? Will parents still be moved to hug their kids a little tighter? To tell their kids they love them more than ever…even when they feel anger at them for “bad” behavior? Because I know myself. When tragedy or hardship strikes, whether it is Hurricane Sandy or a trip to the ER, I stop and think. I think oh, life is precious; I am going to hug my kids more today. I think, I am so grateful; I am going to say it more. I think, I need to try harder; I am going to try harder to be more patient.

And I do, for a few days, sometimes longer. And then the tragedy or hardship escapes my mind and the chaos of life brings me back to how I was before the hardship.

And I can’t stand that about myself. And I worry the same will happen now.

I haven’t stopped crying since Friday and my heart hasn’t stopped sending virtual love to each and every soul in Newtown, CT.

But one day, it will. The tears will stop and my heart will re-focus entirely on my house, my life. I will try as hard as I can to be “the mom” that I was the weekend after the tragedy at Newtown, but the truth is I will slip. I know that when I address cards to my family and friends in Newtown that I will pause and remember the lives lost and I will run and hug my munchkins.

Walking with daddy in one of the many beautiful and peaceful fields in Newtown, CT where he grew up. October, 2012.

And I know that when we visit Newtown with my sons to show them daddy’s school, daddy’s house, daddy’s favorite pizza place, daddy’s favorite ice cream shop, daddy’s oh so beautiful town that I will sadly be forced to remember to hug my kids tighter at that moment.

But I also know those days will be fewer than I like. I know moving forward I won’t be as calm and tender at Kindergarten drop-off as I was today; that I will be loving but not AS loving and present as I was today. I know I won’t run and hug my son at pick-up as I did today but that instead I will sit in the car waiting impatiently for him to come to me so that I can rush to the next place.

And oh this reality pains me so. Oh this reality infuriates me. Oh this reality stumps me, confuses me, and pushes me to really think. Why? Why do I do this?

Everyday since Friday I’ve asked myself not just how will I bring the memories of those lost to life, but also how will I ensure that I hug my kids a little tighter each night, even when this tragedy is a distant memory? How will I embrace the mom that I was this past weekend? How will I find the same patience, presence, and persistence to be a loving mom that I had in abundance after I heard the devastating news?

I am not going to pretend to know the answers. Because I don’t know. I don’t know a lot right now, except for perhaps two things. One, I love my sons with all my soul and the thought of losing them breaks my heart. I can only imagine what it really feels like to those who have indeed lost their children. And two, I am forever grateful that I decided to stop yelling at them.

An expected answer given my blog topic? Perhaps. But I don’t write that for the expected answers. Yes I am grateful that I have stopped yelling because it has improved my relationship with my boys, it has shown them more love, it has created a calmer home. But right now, I realize that the real gift in learning not to yell is that it has forced me to LEARN how to be more patient, how to be more present, and how to keep being persistent in my quest to be the most loving mom I can be. And these lessons have made the two most important times in the day to me easier and better.

Ironically (and sadly) I was most prone to yell at my boys at the two times of day when I prepared to say “goodbye” to them for 6+ hours: getting to school and getting ready for bed. Learning not to yell helps me send my kids to school with love in their hearts. Learning not to yell helps me send my kids to sleep with love in their hearts. Of all the moments in the day, those are the most precious to me ESPECIALLY now. Especially now as I am painfully aware of just how precious and important those goodbye moments, memories, really are. How much they really count.

Yes, there will be (have been) days when I am not as loving as I hope. And on those days I just hope that I remember to not just give my sons an apology and one great big, tight hug (even if I am frustrated) but also that I remember to give myself one too. Because getting down on myself will just set me up to yell. It will just prevent me from savoring the next moment, and any moment I don’t yell is a win for all. And right now, we all need to have these winning moments. Because any moment WE don’t yell we not only give our children the love they deserve but also we teache our children patience, understanding, empathy, compassion and love ALL things this world needs. It certainly does not need more anger.

I am going to embrace the mom I was the weekend after Newtown by continuing to share love with my boys by not yelling at them. I encourage everyone to try not yelling but also to do whatever you need to keep bringing more peace and love to your home, to this world. And I will honor the beautiful lives lost by continuing to do Just Because moments of kindness and by donating to the Newtown Memorial fund whose mission is to … provide a memorial to the victims of the Sandy Hook Elementary School tragedy…(and more). Let there be a constant memory of the love these lives brought to this world and let us spread it by our kindness to our own children, and beyond.

http://newtownmemorialfund.org
http://www.TheOrangeRhino.com/just-because/ 

308 days without yelling, 57 days of loving more to go!

Dear Kevin Bacon,

I love the movie Footloose. Love it, love it, love it! I love when you passionately declare that there is a Time to Dance. Right now, this night, I feel as if I am you. It is my time to dance, to celebrate. In fact, I played “Footloose” tonight and had a dance party with my boys we danced and we yelled. You see, it wasn’t just my time to dance, it was also my Time to Yell.

Cheers,
The Orange Rhino

*

I have spent the last 307 plus days talking about my commitment to not yell at my boys. I’ve talked about how yelling doesn’t work; how it just makes me feel crappier and the kids cry harder. I’ve talked about how not yelling has benefits, like more peace in the house and in my heart.  I’ve talked about how often yelling isn’t warranted, but that my time out to look at my stress is. I have covered a lot of different yelling territory, I think, except for one area: when it IS okay to yell.

Because, I do believe there is a time to yell, and I don’t just mean the emergency situations.

Yes, my yelling meter clearly states that yelling to (not at) is okay in emergency situations, dangerous situations, where a truly raised voice is necessary to keep a child out of harm’s way. Yep, I am cool with yelling in those situations so long as it is to get attention in order to deliver a clear message of safety, not of degradation to the child for misbehaving.

But more so, I am totally cool with yelling for joy, and happiness, and pride, and love.

I am cool with yelling at the top of my lungs “YES! My son’s brain is okay!”

I am cool with yelling at the top of my lungs “YES! Go #1, keep  going, you got it, SCORE! You did it!”

I am cool with yelling at the top of my lungs “HAPPY BIRTHDAY #2! I love you!”

I am cool with yelling at the top of my lungs “YEAH #3 you pooped in the potty!”

Yes, there is most definitely a time to yell.

And when the times comes, the time to yell for joy, I need all the energy I can muster. When the time comes, I don’t want to be struck with Parental Laryngitis and unable to yell because I have lost my voice. When the time comes, I don’t want to be so tired from yelling and feeling so crappy from yelling that I can’t find enough joy to yell. In fact, when the time comes for me to yell to my child for a terrific reason, I don’t want my kids to be so used to my yelling that they tune out the important yells — the yells of rejoicing.

You see it is the yells of happiness that really matter. Those are the yells that need to be shared and celebrated and heard loud and clear. The other ones? Over spilled legos and spilled milk? Yeah, not so much. Not so important.

Tonight, tonight I yelled at the top of my lungs for joy and it felt AWESOME. I yelled with happiness that the worst is behind my son. I yelled with gratitude for all the support from you all. I yelled with relief that I can kind of exhale.

I yelled and it felt great and will continue to feel great.  And those are the yells I live for! Yells of anger and sadness and frustration and impatience? I don’t need them, they just bring me down. They feel good for a second, but that is it. Yells of joy? They bring me up, they make me feel alive.

306 days without yelling, 59 days of loving more to go!

Dear Green Turtle,

People are going to wonder what this post has to do with not yelling. Here’s the thing: when I feel disconnected to you, when I feel like we are two ships passing in the night because of the stress of raising young kids, I get more snippy and much more likely to yell. When you and I are in a good place, it is easier to not yell. Today, super easy to not yell because I remembered that you count too!

The Orange Rhino

*

It was the Summer of 2010. My oldest was almost four and our third son was almost one. My husband and I were debating whether or not we would or should go for a fourth. We did a lot of soul searching that summer, both together and separate. My husband did his soul searching, pondering if he could handle four kids, while playing video games. I did mine, I know I want four kids but can our marriage handle four kids, everywhere and anywhere.I spent countless hours thinking: when I woke up, in the shower, driving here and there, when the kids were bathing, before I went to sleep and any second there was quiet in the house.

Why so much thinking? Truthfully? Because we were in what I thought was maybe? more than a marriage rut and I was worried. I was worried about where we were headed and that naturally made questioning a fourth child, well, kind of silly, no? But through my soul searching and talking with different people I realized that my concerns about my marriage weren’t abnormal and that they were in fact what a lot of couples experienced when children came along.

Disconnected. Tired. Out of sync. Unenthusiastic. Why? Because so much of their free time was spent not necessarily with each other as a couple, but either as a family or focusing on just the kids. And let me tell you, with three kids in 3 years, and my husband’s work schedule, this was most definitely our situation. We hadn’t fallen out of love as I often worried, we had just fallen off each other’s radar because every spare moment was about “survival.” It was about keeping diapers changed, mouths fed, hearts comforted, tears dried, fights avoided.  We let our couple-dom get lost, we let it become de-prioritized. It wasn’t intentional. It truly wasn’t. It just happened. We stopped focusing on us and only focused on the kids. Are they happy? What do they need? We stopped asked are we happy? What do we need (besides sleep and peace and quiet)?  I stopped making him a priority. All my free time was for the kids, then myself, and then sleep. (This is perhaps over the top, but you get the idea). Oh Orange Rhino, not good!

As I slowly started to realize this I had a huge epiphany. I love birthdays, always have, always will. My mom made my birthday’s incredibly special and as such I have dreamed to do the same for my boys. So for each birthday I spend HOURS and I mean hours planning. I find hours that I don’t even know exist. I go out of my way to find time creating the perfect birthday invitations, by scratch. 10 hours, easy. Finding the perfect plates, napkins, decorations, 2 hours. Searching for the perfect favors and party games, 2 hours. Baking and decorate the perfect cake, 10 hours. That is 24 hours. 24 hours per child.

And then comes my Husband’s Birthday. Before kids I would spend a couple hours thinking about what to do, where to go, what to buy him and then spend 2 to 3 hours making one creative thing to keep as a memory over the years. Maybe 4 to 5 hours total.

And now? The big aha? I spent max 45 minutes. For my kids I jumped through hoops to show them my love on their special day. For my husband? Not so much anymore. Awful. Just awful. The summer of 2010 I realized that I was marginalizing my husband. He deserved more than 45 minutes of preparation for his birthday. He deserved to know that I would go out of my way to make time and effort to make his day special, just as I would my sons. He deserved to know that they weren’t more important than him; but that all my boys are important to me. And always will be.

From that summer on, I have started making sure my husband’s birthday gets as much love, energy, and creativity as I would give to my sons. No, I don’t spend hours on invitations, but now instead of buying a cake at the grocery store last minute, I make him a cake just as I would my sons. And this year, my sons joined in the creativity and helped planned all the details of the day. It. Was. Awesome. The theme? Green Turtle, green everything. Daddy got balloons just like them, a green tablecloth, kazoos for party favors, polka dotted birthday plates, and got to enter a kitchen this morning “decorated” with green streamers. Everywhere.

Cake designed by the boys. #1 suggested we needed a beach so we smashed Graham Crackers. #2 said I needed to write Green Turtle instead of daddy. #3 said the turtle needed eyes and #4 just kept eating the frosting.

It was a fantastic day, despite the headaches from the kazoo chorus. It was fantastic to feel so connected to my boys and my husband. It was fantastic to see him light up at the sight of his personalized cake. It was fantastic to see the boys take joy in celebrating their daddy.

It was fantastic to have realized three summers ago that I had started prioritizing my kids over my husband and that I could change that at any minute and that that change could bring much greater joy to my life.

Ahhhhhh. That was a deep breath. Like a really, big, super-ginormous  ridiculously huge deep breath. What a 10 days.  First “seizure week” then “stomach bug week.” What a doozer. I feel absolutely wiped. But feel awake again after getting this novel, this pain, off my chest. Now, I can move on. Until Monday.

*

We entered the hospital last Thursday morning and all was going well.

Little man wasn’t thrilled to have 25+ wires attached to his head to measure for seizure activity, but he, we were managing. We had dance parties, read books, played with blocks and threw hospital food (can you blame him?) Friday morning came fast even after a rather crappy night of hospital sleep (he didn’t want to sleep, I couldn’t sleep) and I geared up for the harder day – a day of not eating so that little man could have an MRI at 3:30. An MRI to rule out brain tumor, brain damage, or a brain abnormality. While the previous tests were important, this was the test most important to me. This was the test that SCARED me. This was the test that I wanted done and over with. Not just because it meant sedating my sweet, young son, but because the unknown results were keeping me from feeling calm.

Party at my crib! 9:00, 2+ hours past bedtime!

Somehow the day turned out to be very easy. After a few attempts by little man to find food in my bag, he settled down and actually was rather quiet all day, even laying down on the floor numerous times to rest. I just assumed he was lethargic from no food and drink. I kept mentioning it to the nurses because I thought it was odd but no one thought it mattered. Let’s just say that mother’s instinct that he was OFF was RIGHT.

3:00 came and little man ever so gracefully let the nurse insert his IV. Not. One. Tear. That of course made me tear up like mad as I was so proud of him for being such a trooper. The wheelchair rolled in and I hopped in with little man in my lap (held perhaps more tightly than ever before), and we began our trek to the dreaded MRI. Even though blood tests and the EEG (test for seizure activity) were good to date and I should be relieved I still feared the MRI.

A rather unpleasant nurse greeted us and felt it necessary to keep trying to make little man smile. Instead, she just made him cry every time she talked and put her face in his, practicallytouching it. And she DIDN’T. GET. THE. HINT.

Just leave him alone, please!!  Let him be in peace.  Leave us in peace. We are nervous and tired, let us be.

The more pleasant anesthesiologist entered and peppered me with questions.

“When is the last time he ate?”

“9:00” I answered.

“What! He shouldn’t have eaten past 7!” barked the nurse.

“It’s okay. It will be okay.” replied the anesthesiologist politely.

He then proceeded to have me sign my name on a form stating that x,y,z, and vomit are risks of anesthesia. And then just as I got up to place little man on the stretcher for sedation he VOMITED all over me, all over himself, all over the nasty nurse.

“Oh my god. What a mess!“  the nurse, who works in a hospital, a place where people go when they are SICK, said in my direction.

“I just followed my doctor’s instructions. Please get me a towel.” I replied quietly, shocked by what she had said, sad for my little man, discouraged that the test would be delayed, that we would have to repeat the nerves, again.

The anesthesiologist returned and I looked at him and immediately the stress hit me. I burst into tears and mumbled “please, please just tell me that he didn’t throw up because of a brain tumor or something in his brain. Please. I beg you.”

“I can’t answer that. We’ll get answers soon though. Let’s clean you guys up.”

We then had the pleasure of the nasty nurse pushing us back upstairs, had the pleasure of listening to her continue to talk about how little man shouldn’t have eaten all morning. Really. Really??? Was she blaming me? Didn’t she know that babies sometimes get sick? That perhaps the stress of the situation got to him? Who did she think she was? She was luckily then interrupted by the booming voice on the intercom.

“CODE WHITE. CODE WHITE. CODE WHITE Room 621.”

I had heard a lot of Code Reds and Code Blues the last 24 hours. Being in a hospital is as unnerving as it is, then hearing code colors called out left and right is just enough to put you over the edge. I nervously asked the nurse what a code white was. Get this.

“It’s code that a parent is losing control. That they are yelling, throwing things, hitting doctors. When you hear code white you just get out of the way immediately.”

I then had a nice conversation, with me, myself, and I.

“You mean, a parent is feeling what I am starting to feel inside because of you? Oh I feel for them. It’s a good thing you are pushing faster to get us out of the way as I might be the next Code White.”

We arrived at the Pediatrics floor and the nurse laid into my doctor about how this was everyone’s fault. After she left I tried desperately to find out if the test would be re-scheduled and for when? Could I finally feed my baby? Give him fluids?

SOMEONE PLEASE ANSWER ME!

It took an hour. An hour before I was given the green light to give him food as we were re-scheduled for 8:00 the next morning.  One sip of water, thrown up, 5 cheerios thrown up, I discovered the reason for the delay.

The nurse REFUSED to answer the phone to re-schedule him since it was “our fault.”

WAIT. It gets better.

As little man hadn’t eaten all day and couldn’t keep anything down we hooked him up to IV fluids. My sweet boy fell asleep in my arms immediately; only to toss and turn and be up ALL night as every time he moved he set off the IV machine alarm.

We didn’t sleep a wink Friday night. Not. A. Wink. Which made me a really cheery site Saturday morning.

The wheelchair came again, and again the fear of putting my young baby under anesthesia gripped my body. I stayed as calm as I could, even sang a few lullabyes as we were rolled down the long, cold, start hallways to calm us both. Little man snuggled tight, gripping me. He knew what was up.

We were greeted by HER. The nurse who really, well, perhaps shouldn’t be a nurse.

A new young anesthesiologist came out and began questioning me, again. His conclusion?

“It is too risky to put him under anesthesia. Should he throw up while in the MRI there is no way to tell until a few minutes too late. The vomit might go in his lungs and he could choke and well, it wouldn’t be good. The other hospital has better equipment for sedating young kids.”

“Okay” I said. “I trust your judgment and certainly don’t want to take that risk. What a shame though. It means going home and then waiting weeks for an appointment and then having to experience this stress all over again and pricking my son with another needle. I get it. Just disappointed.”

No tears fell. But my heart fell. Way down deep and discouragement stepped up. When will I get answers I thought? What if he has another seizure? When will I stop worrying? My deep thoughts were interrupted by the nurse.

She wanted to be empathetic. I know she did. I could tell by the fact that she sat down next to me and started with “I know you are disappointed.” She should have stopped there. IMMEDIATELY. What she said next still haunts me. And will probably bring me to tears for years.

“You know, I was up at 5 am this morning booking this. I am as annoyed as you are.” (Yeah? I was up at 5 too. Because my BABY who is in the hospital couldn’t  sleep and PS that’s your job.)

“And well, I have been picking pieces of vomit out of my clothes and shoes and even in my lab jacket since yesterday.” (Yeah? This is a hospital. People throw up. You went home to a shower and clean clothes. I went to a sink and scrubs.)

And then the kicker. Which maybe to most people is fine, but to me, a mom, under major stress and fear and all sorts of emotions, it didn’t sit well at all.

“You know, they called to re-schedule yesterday but I was too angry to answer. I refused to for an hour. And now, well, now I just keep saying how lucky we were that he threw up when he did. You know 30 seconds later and he would have been sedated and he would have choked on his vomited and wouldn’t have been able to breathe and we wouldn’t have known and it would have been minutes if not longer before we knew and just WOW it would have been beyond awful. Your guy could have been so unsafe. We were 30 seconds from being in a really dangerous situation, a grave situation.”

Thank you nurse. Thank you for telling me, what I knew. I knew it was a miracle. I knew how lucky we were, how dangerous it could have been. But guess what? I didn’t need to relive it step by step. I don’t need to know that my son was 30 seconds away from well, something I can’t write. I am stressed enough and sick to my stomach with fear that he has something in his brain. Because even though 2 tests were fine, my mommy gut isn’t. So no, no I don’t want to hear about how close we were to what, potentially causing brain damage or harming him. So thank you, please, BE QUIET.  I thank exhaustion and shock and disappointment for keeping these thoughts IN my head.

“Well, yes, it was a miracle and I am glad it worked out” I said softly and started singing to little man who was falling asleep hoping that maybe, maybe she would leave me alone. She got the hint. Another miracle.

We arrived back at our floor and the nurses looked at me with shock, question, confusion.

“Denied.” I said. Denied an MRI. Denied respect. Denied support. Denied empathy. Denied. Denied. Denied. Granted FEAR. Lots of it. Tears rolled down my cheeks as we were rolled back into our room.

I settled little man into his crib (which by the way, looks more like a cage) and I lost it. I started texting a friend about my fury then stopped.

No. It wasn’t right. I wasn’t going to stay silent. She shouldn’t have told me all she did. She shouldn’t have complained about the vomit, or the job, the situation, her anger and she certainly crossed the line telling me not once, not twice, but three times that my son was so close to being harmed.

I went straight out to the hallway and asked the staff who I share a complaint with, immediately.

I told my story and the tears fell. And fell and fell. They fell from relief that he was safe. They fell from deep sadness that he might not have been. They fell from stress that I would be back. The fell from physical and emotional exhaustion. They fell from anger.

Code “ORANGE RHINO”.

No code white, but code “Orange Rhino.” I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t yell. I didn’t scream. I even went so far as to say that I know the nurse meant well but that perhaps communicating wasn’t her strength and that perhaps she didn’t need reprimand, just teaching. I didn’t lose it, I didn’t hit Code White. And I am so grateful. Because code ORANGE RHINO – handling anger with warmth, feels so much better and actually made people want to help me.

The nurses kept checking on me the rest of the day and bringing me tissues. They offered support and true empathy. They said thank you for staying calm. You see, using kind words when angry, it has a much better chance of helping you. Yelling, mean words, it does you no good. Sure it might get your point made, but does it inspire positive action? Does it inspire people to WANT to help you? No. Nice words though, or words delivered with respect, they at least stand a chance. Sure, they might not get you an immediate response, but over time, there is much greater upside.

I got a call today from the manager of the Children’s Hospital. Apparently my kind words had made quite an impact. The manager called to hear my story of what happened and ultimately apologized profusely saying that there is no way she would accept or tolerate one her staff treating her patients that way. I again said that I know that nurse meant well but that well, it SCARED ME. It scared the sh*t out of me to hear someone verbally talk about what bad could have been. And with all the stress, I just didn’t need it. I went on to say on top of it all, now I have to wait one month, ONE MONTH, to get an MRI. One month to know that my son is okay. Because he will be okay. That is the only answer.

“Oh that is frustrating. I am going to call right now and see if we can’t change that. You’ve been through enough. You don’t need to be waiting a month” she said sweetly. I liked her. She was sincere, empathetic, calm, and caring. She made me feel okay to be anger and scared. She made it safe.

I got a call at 2:43 today. Little Man’s MRI has been moved up to Monday.  Monday folks. This is GREAT news. It is 24 days earlier. It means no waiting until January 3^rd. It means by the middle of next week I will have the answers I need to sleep a little better. It means we can move on sooner than later.

I TRULY owe this to my code Orange Rhino, to the Orange Rhino Challenge. If I had lost it and yelled, do you think the nurses would have been inclined to share my story? If I had lost it and been rude with the Manager, do you think she would have been moved to make the calls on my behalf? Maybe, maybe not. But I am going to say, YES.

Kind words matter. Nasty ones, they just do no good. They don’t get you anywhere. Well, they do. They get you nowhere, fast. So choose kind words. I can’t imagine you will ever regret it.  I know I don’t.

* I don’t hold anyone responsible for what happened except maybe the Stomach Bug. While this experience was frustrating and disheartening, all the other care I received was great and again, the nurse had good intentions just perhaps needs some teaching. You know. Kind of like my boys who I often get frustrated with 🙂 And while the situation isn’t what I would have chose, I am grateful for yet another opportunity to put The Orange Rhino Challenge benefits to the test. 

* * * Discover all the ways taking The Orange Rhino Challenge has changed my life beyond how I handled this situation in my just released book, “Yell Less, Love More: How The Orange Rhino Mom Stopped Yelling at her Kids–and How You Can Too!” available at many bookstores and online stores like Amazon, Barnes & Nobles, Qbookshop, IndieBound, Indigo Canada, Bookish

295 days of not yelling, 70 days of loving more to go!

Dear Orange Rhinos,

Monday night I took #4, now 16 months old, to the hospital via ambulance as he had another seizure. This one was worse than the one three weeks ago, and that one was worse than the one three months ago. I was hesitant to go but the Pediatrician insisted I call 911. 5 minutes later 4 EMT’s stormed my house. Two minutes later as the ambulance tore towards the hospital we were cut off by the paramedics who jumped in the ambulance, kicked the EMT’s out and started attaching little man to machines and oxygen. Soon after we had arrived at the hospital and I shared all that I had just witnessed (excessive drooling, a twitching left hand, a vacant stare that can only be described as, it looked like my son had no soul behind his eyes for 10 minutes) the two pediatric doctors on call agreed that a trip to the Neurologist was now necessary. As in, the next day, pronto.

I asked the doctors all sorts of questions: would he be safe at home? Should I sleep in his room? What happens if he seizes again? Will he be okay? They answered my questions calmly and thoughtfully and I bundled up my love and walked out of the hospital in a complete and utter daze. I remember getting in my neighbors car to go home. That is the extent of “feeling” I remember from that part of the evening.

The minute we got home I settled sweet #4 into his crib and then settled myself into my porch chair, big glass of wine in one hand, baby monitor in the other, and a heavy down comforter on top of me. It was 37 degrees out but I didn’t care. The cold air and the twinkling of the Christmas lights brought me the calm and peace I so desperately needed at that point.

Because you see, there are three words I don’t like together: Baby, Neurologist and Pronto. The combination successfully freaked me out and while my son’s nervous system had gone under attack earlier, now mine was. My brain was firing off all sorts of thoughts. I was simply scared shi*tless. But not much I could do at that point. So I slowly sipped my wine and breathed in whatever fresh fair I could knowing that tomorrow could very well be a hard, long day.

Last drop gone I then settled myself into my make shift bed – an air mattress outside #4’s door so that I could hear if he started seizing again (he moans and groans in a way that is unsettling beyond words.) I woke up the next morning to the sound of #1 and #2 asking each other “do you think mommy is back from the hospital? She’s not in her bed. Do you think baby is okay?” Reality hit. I needed to get up and face the day. I needed to be as strong as I could muster for all my boys that day. I needed to fight my desire to cry and stay cuddled up in bed. My boys needed me.

My boys were awesome yesterday morning. No fights over getting dressed, who got what cereal bowl, who gets to sit in the back car seat, etc….It was just the peace I needed to start the day, the peace I needed to stay calm for all of them and myself. Well, as to be expected, the peace was somewhat short lived as when it was time to go to school no one wanted to because they all knew mommy couldn’t pick them up because #4 had his big appointment. Tears fell. And fell. And fell. Legs kicked and kicked and kicked. Screams yelled and yelled and yelled. “I want mommy!”

Oh yes, the house was filled with chaos, and noise, fear and sadness. And I just wanted to scream. Scream out my worry, scream out my frustration. I wanted to scream at no one, yet I also wanted to scream at them, for no reason.

But I knew that would do nothing. So I did what I have taught myself to do.

I talked. I listened. I empathized. I treated my boys with respect and told them all they deserved to hear.

“I know you are angry. I know you are scared. I am too. I wish I could take you to school. I wish I didn’t have to take baby to the doctor. I wish I didn’t have to go to the hospital yesterday.”

“But it is not fair. You’re spending all your time with him.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t seem fair. It is all kind of sucky. But I love you. And as soon as I can get home I will. And I will hug you and love you. It will be okay. It will be okay.”

And then I cried with them. I just couldn’t help it. And you know what? I was okay with that. Because through this all (this Challenge) I have learned that of the many things I am learning to do, I am learning to teach my boys how to handle emotions. And that means feeling them. All of them.  Even the ugly ones. It means showing them that yelling at people isn’t okay, but that it is okay to cry, to be angry, to be sad and to SAY SO. Nicely. And it means learning to handle those emotions so they don’t bring you down. It means talking about them.

And that is what I did all day, and that is what I have done for the last 290+ days (albeit with a slight filter to keep my boys anxiety down and a simplified manner, but still.)

When I came home from the neurologist yesterday I was a mess. I pretty much still am but I am not talking about that. Yet. I’ll talk about it when I have something concrete to share. The appointment wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either so when I walked in that door I didn’t feel like being a parent. I didn’t feel like being responsible. I just wanted to curl up on my porch and feel the fresh air and pray that it brought me peace again. And cry. And cry. And cry. I wanted to feel scared and sad. I didn’t feel like dealing with all the energy that my boys had at that moment – all the excitement they had to see me after a long day. And yet, I wanted to be there for them at the same time. I wanted to hug them and love them and feel the goodness that was real in front of me at that moment. I was so conflicted with emotions. Wanting to hide but wanting to be present. And that overwhelming confusion actually made me want to scream at them to stop running around and to stop jumping on me.

So I did what I did earlier. I talked and I told them where mommy was at.

“Hi guys. I am excited to see you too. I love you so much. Listen. Here’s the thing. Mommy has had a long day with the baby. I’ve missed you tons but mommy is tired and feeling a little stressed. So I need you to help me. I need you to play loudly in the basement or quietly up here. I get cranky when I am stressed and I don’t want to get cranky with you. I want to love you lots. Can you help me?”

It worked. It works. It makes me feel better and my boys got it. It being openly sharing my feelings instead of keeping them inside until I scream.

I openly share my emotions with you, my boys, my friends and my husband. With everyone including the wall. Some people think it’s too much. But I’ll tell you what? It works. It keeps communication lines open, it helps people know where I am at, and I truly believe it prevents big blow up fights and screaming. And you know what else?

It is teaching my sons empathy and the more proper way of how to deal with emotions than yelling.

So, so be it if it is too much. To me, there has been nothing but upside. It has kept me “calmer” and closer to all my sons during a very trying week. And it turns out that is what I needed more than a glass of wine and a trip to the porch. I didn’t need stress from yelling and feeling crappy about yelling. I didn’t I feel crappy enough as is. I needed to love and be loved by all my boys. And I got it.

So yeah, this week has been tough. And tomorrow and Friday will be equally tough as I sit in the hospital for 48 straight hours watching my baby go through seizure tests galore to rule out all the bad stuff. And yeah, I wanted to go out to my porch tonight and cry instead of packing for the hospital. But I needed to get this out. I needed to set my feelings free. I needed to admit I was having a hard time.

It works wonders you know, sharing  your feelings with adults AND kids alike.

(Now let’s hope our Neurologist can work some wonders too and give me good news.)

Fingers crossed,
The Orange Rhino