61 days down, 304 to go!

Dear Nasty Lady at the Restaurant,
It was so nice of you to make fun of my husband and I while we were in ear shot. Thanks, I really appreciated (and needed) that. Looking back, you inadvertently taught me that I have changed and that yelling really doesn’t achieve a thing. So I guess my thanks is genuine. Darnnit. I really didn’t want to say anything nice regarding you.

Blech,
The Orange Rhino

*

A few weekends ago, my husband and I had the rare opportunity to go out to dinner, just the two of us. Well, at least in theory. We didn’t have our four boys with us but instead we had the privilege of being squeezed in between two other tables of 2. In fact, we were so close together it felt like we were a party of 6. I could hear everything the couples next to us said. You see, I have supersonic hearing and can carry on my own conversation and hear and remember 1 to 2 others at the same time. It’s mostly a blessing, ie. I can hear my boys whispering their plot to cause trouble from across the room while on the phone. But it’s also a curse. Big time. On this particular night out, it was a curse.

In usual self confessed dorky Orange Rhino husband and wife fashion, the first thing we did on our intimate night out was talk business, tonight’s conversation being what reward system we want to use at home to help the boys become more responsible. We’re thorough and analytical people. We covered all the pros and cons of different systems. Actually, we exhausted all the options.

Do we do points or stickers on a chart? Or do we do money or gold dabloons (ie. Jake and the Pirates) in a jar/treasure chest?  Do we only reward good behavior or do we also subtract for bad behavior?

We decided on gold dabloons in a treasure chest. Most visual, most fun.

Next.

Well how many gold dabloons do you get for clearing your plate? For making your bed? Then how many gold dabloons are needed for a reward? What about #3, he is too young to collect, he’ll want instant gratification. How do we handle that?

I won’t bore you with the iterations. You get the point. We were being anal, but to us, it was an important conversation. Helping our kids learn to be responsible, polite, loving kids is important to us. Is that dorky? Is it loserish to be committed to finding a reward system that will easily, clearly, and fairly help inspire these new behaviors? I don’t think so.

Well to our neighbors to my left, specifically the single, clearly no children, under the age of 30 woman, our personal and important conversation did. In fact, she thought our private conversation was hilarious. So funny in fact she felt it necessary to start making fun of us. Yup. While we were sitting not more than 2 feet away. And given my supersonic hearing, I heard every word.

Her: “What losers. They are out without kids and they are talking about reward systems.”
Him: “Shhh. You’re talking loud. They can hear you.”
Her: “I don’t care. Wait, do I lose 2 gold dabloons for being rude? Or is it 1?”
Him: “Shhh. Please. Seriously. It’s embarrassing.”
Her: “Honey, you get 1 gold dabloon for saying please. Would you like 2 gold dabloons for getting out of bed in the morning?”

I won’t bore you with her iterations either as she went on for oh say, 10 minutes? And it just got more hurtful with every jab at us. Tears slowly started to fill my eyes and I fought my hardest to keep them from falling onto my plate. I fought my hardest to keep her from knowing how upset I was. I fought my hardest to keep myself from taking my glass of red wine and throwing it at her yellow blouse. You see, I’ve had the distinct honor of catching people talking badly about me on numerous occasions…the first being when I was 6. Yup, it was that bad that I still remember it. So to say the least, this chick, this obnoxious chick, really hit a nerve.

And oh did I want to YELL. I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to tell her to go screw herself and that she had no idea about parenting and how hard it is. I wanted her to get up to go to the bathroom and have to say “Excuse Me” to us  just so that I could say, “Of course! That is 2 gold dabloons for asking so politely!” And well if she never got up I wanted to turn to her and say “You know, I can hear you. And it is incredibly rude to be listening to my conversation and making fun of it, all while we can hear you.”

But my husband wouldn’t let me do any of those things. As he so perfectly put it that I immediately put it in my blackberry to remember…

“What would yelling at her do? Sure it would make you feel better, but what would it accomplish? Nothing. You’ll still feel crappy. She might pick a fight making things worse. And it will ruin what is supposed to be a nice night out.”

He was right. Yelling REALLY would make me feel better. But he was also right that it wouldn’t achieve anything. The cons of yelling far outweighed the pros… darn it!

So I sat there, not yelling and trying to ignore her and enjoy my dinner. Which is exactly what I did. Which was a really big step for me. Before Challenge, I would have sat there and pouted, sat there and felt embarrassed, annoyed, angry, sat there and thought well maybe she is right, maybe we do sound like losers. Before Challenge, I would have let her ruin my night.

But not tonight. The new me, The Orange Rhino, who is learning to stay calm, find perspective, let go and more, decided to think Screw her!  This is my night out with my husband. I am not going to let some nasty woman ruin my night. I am not going to let anger ruin my night. I am going to choose love. I am going to choose to love my time with the one I love.

And I did.

And it felt great. Much better than yelling would have. My husband gets 2 gold dabloons for great advice. And I think I deserve 5 for listening to said advice, 10 for telling him he was right, and 20 for not yelling (even though she more than deserved it!!!)

Even though this post is about me as an adult and not a mom per say, I think the take aways apply to my life as a mom too, don’t you? When have you wanted to yell but didn’t? Did you feel better?

56 days down, 309 to go! 

Dear Neighbor,
You asked me how it feels to not yell for 56 days. Are you sure you want the answer? The real answer?

Prepare Yourself,
The Orange Rhino

*

Yesterday I told you not yelling felt great. Amazing.
And it does. More than most of the time.
In the beginning I told you it made my kids listen more.
And it does. More than most of the time.
But I can’t lie.
Sometimes not yelling doesn’t feel amazing because sometimes
my kids don’t listen more.
Because they are kids.
And just like me, they have good days and bad days.
And during those moments when they don’t listen,
I mean REALLY DON’T LISTEN and it feels like they are all giving me the middle finger  and don’t give a hoot what I have to say…
I want to yell.
I want to yell because Yelling used to be my go-to parenting method when all else failed.
And it always worked. It always got my kids to stop and listen.
Because it scared them.  And I don’t want to scare my kids. I love them.
And so I can’t yell.
And it turns out, I can’t even cry…

This afternoon was brutal. Change is coming to the Orange Rhino Household and mommy is anxious, and overwhelmed, and nervous, and scared, and sad. The list goes on and on and on. And my boys sense it. When I am anxious #1 is twice as anxious and his response is to be over silly and hyper and to not listen which of course gets #2 and #3 acting the same way. The three feed off of each other and the house goes from acceptably calm and quiet for having 4 boys in it to loud, rambunctious, and intolerable. Simply stated, if mommy shows signs of being anxious, even if she isn’t yelling, then my household spirals into a world of chaos. A world where I feel like I have no control, no power, and I just want the madness to stop.

And today I just wanted to cry. I stood in the middle of the chaos surrounding me – my boys running around yelling and my to-do list yelling at me to get to it – and I wanted to cry. I wanted to bawl. I wanted all my feelings of being overwhelmed to pour out of me and be gone. But I couldn’t.

The tears wouldn’t come.

I was pissed. I felt cheated. How come my boys can release their anger, their frustration, their anxiety via a good ‘ole fashioned temper tantrum, with tears pouring out, and I can’t? I was pissed I couldn’t cry and I was pissed I couldn’t yell. Because both would have made me feel better and I couldn’t do either.

Harrumph.

What did the situation feel like?

I felt weak, truly. I felt like I could just collapse.
I don’t think I could have even screamed if I wanted too, I was so tired.
I felt overwhelmed.
I felt desperate.
I felt hopeless. Powerless.
I felt defeated.
I guess you could say I felt pretty sh*tty.
All I wanted to do was cry.
And the tears wouldn’t even come.
I couldn’t yell and I needed to release.

I couldn’t move my legs to stomp out my frustration because they were too weak from walking back and forth, room to room, talking directly to my boys to try to get the desired behavior. My legs were too weak from going up and down the stairs bringing #1 to his room to cool down, again and again.

I couldn’t even whisper because I was tired of trying to communicate.

I couldn’t even bring myself to get the camera because well, what was the point? The kids were running around me in a whirlwhind, a camera wouldn’t catch them, there wasn’t a photo that would make me laugh.

I couldn’t even take deep breaths because my heart was beating so fast from my blood boiling.

I felt hopeless. Powerless.
I felt defeated.
And all I wanted to do was yell.
Because I knew that would work.
I knew it would stop my kids dead in their tracks.
It would demand they give me attention. It would demand that they listen to me.

If only for a moment.
One moment.
But then the tears would come. Not mine, but theirs.
And with it the guilt, theirs and mine.
So I knew I couldn’t yell. And I didn’t know what else to do.
I didn’t know how to stop the madness.
And so all I wanted to do was cry.
And the damn tears wouldn’t come.
They wouldn’t free me from my feelings.
They wouldn’t let me body release the frustration it felt.

So I stood still, paralyzed by frustration.

I stood still.

And suddenly I stopped trying to control the situation. I stopped trying to control their behavior. And I started trying to control MYSELF. I searched for calm. And clarity.  And tried hard to not pull out my hair or throw something across the room in the process.

Clarity came first. Get a book. Just start reading. They will come.
And I did.
And they did.
And then the calm came.
I survived another whirlwind of boys’ insanity without yelling.
Phew.

*

So how do I feel not yelling for 56 days?

Well at the beginning of this post tonight I’d say I felt powerless.

Because yelling gave me power to handle and stop the most difficult situations. And without it…I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to discipline when the going gets really tough without saying mean things and raising my voice to a ridiculously loud level. And it is REALLY frustrating. So frustrating that the tears wouldn’t even come because my body was so tense. And it kind of sucks to realize that. To realize how heavily I relied on yelling.

But, wait, I just realized something else. LOVE when that happens. I DO know what to do. Don’t yell. Stand still. Just stand still and wait until composure finds me. Because it will. Because I want it to find me. And when there is a will, there is a way. And boy am I glad it did find me. Because really, choosing not to yell and following through, feels pretty amazing. In fact, I don’t feel powerless anymore, I feel powerful.

What do you do when you feel like you have lost control of your household? Do you yell? If not, please tell me your secret! Do you stand still? Do you get a book? What do you do when all. Else. Fails?! Comment below…

54 days down, 311 to go!

Dear Readers, myself included,
Here is something I wrote on Day 1ish that I never posted. I guess I kind of forgot about it. (If you are new to my blog and want to know what made Day1 even an idea, read The Epiphany) Anyway, I stumbled upon it this weekend and was glad to have re-read it as it reminded me about not only about why I am doing this Challenge in the first place but also and  powerful feelings related to yelling – both in yelling and more so, in not yelling. It re-inspired me and gave me the extra push needed to make it through a very difficult weekend. I hope it helps you too!

Thanks for reading and for all your support,
The Orange Rhino

*

January 22, 2012 (about 70 Days ago…)

The Birth of The Orange Rhino Challenge
(before it even had a name, the name came a few days later thanks to my son, read here: About The Orange Rhino)

Dear Husband,

Wouldn’t it be cool if I made a promise to not yell for 365 days straight? Better yet, what if I blogged about it and made my promise public? That could really force me to stay on the ball. What do you think? Do you think I even stand a chance of making it that long? You don’t? Yeah, me neither but wouldn’t it be fun to try?

xoxo,
me

*

Now mind you, I don’t even know what blogs are or how they work. So I was surprised when this idea popped into my head (both the idea of going 365 days, HUH?! And blogging, double huh). I tried real hard that Sunday to see if I could do it. The whole not yelling for a day thing. It was hard. Really f’n hard.

But I did it.

I found sweet, calm, loving, empathetic tones and voices I didn’t know I had.

I found strength and impulse control I certainly didn’t know I had.

And by the end of the day, I was wiped. Wiped wiped wiped. I was physically spent. I haven’t felt so tired since the early days of having a newborn. WOWZA!

It had taken so much energy to keep myself inline. I love my four boys, don’t get me wrong, but as you can imagine the endless and pretty much all at the same time chorus of: he called me a poopy face, he touched me, he knocked over my tower, he took my toy, I’m hungry, I didn’t want water I wanted milk¸ I’m not listening, I don’t care, no I won’t do that, …. can well, kind of get under your skin after a while!

But not today. I managed to rise above it. It felt SOOOOO good to not yell. NO, not just good, IT FELT GREAT. Absolutely fantastic. I felt totally invigorated and in control for once, two feelings which parenthood had kind of sucked out of me. Maybe this was worth a try? Because I DID IT. I went the whole day without yelling. I CAN DO THIS.

I woke up Monday morning and went downstairs to find a note from my husband. “1 Day down, 364 to go.” Well, I guess he took me seriously. Alrighty then, game on.

*

Not sure what I like more...the love and support or the use of color?

January 23, 2012

Dear Husband,

Thank you so much for drawing that cute little countdown note yesterday encouraging me to go 364 more days without yelling. It was really sweet of you and oh so supportive, exactly what I needed to get going! I never really say thank you to you for loving me, for encouraging me and well, quite frankly, for putting up with me! So thank you!

And #1, #2, #3, and #4, thank you for being so patient with me. I am a work in progress! I know sometimes, well, okay much more than I, and you, would like, that I yell too much and too loudly. I know it hurts your feelings, makes you sad, and scared too sometimes.

I want you to know that I ALWAYS feel dreadful when I do yell.

I never feel better.

I just feel embarrassed, disappointed, and angry that I lost control and made you cry, especially since it never solves anything, it just creates a huge feeling of guilt. So I’ve decided to change. I’m going to work really, really, really hard to stop yelling all together.

I promise you, no matter how long it takes, I will go 365 days without yelling at you. Because I love you. I love you in a way that I can’t even put into words. I love you so much that I don’t just NEED to stop yelling, I want to stop yelling.

Will you be patient with me along the way? Will you help me learn along the way? Will you love me along the way? Will you do all these things…even if I make a mistake?

I guess those are the exact questions you ask of me, daily, aren’t they? Because just like me, you too are works in progress. And you deserve the same patience, help, and love that I am asking for. All the more reason for me to stop yelling at you…all the more reason for me to be more patient, to give you more help, to love you more. Even when I really want to yell. Because it isn’t fair of me to ask things of you that I often forget to give you. So I’ll start.

I promise that I’ll start giving you more love, more help, and more patience when you need it…instead of yelling at you. And maybe you can give me a little back, okay? Deal?

I love you boys, all 5 of you. And that’s why I am willing to take on this Challenge. Let’s kick some no yelling a*s together, shall we?

*

Are you taking The Orange Rhino Challenge with me? What was your first day like? How did you feel? Tell us. ALL of us. The good, the bad, and the ugly. You’d be surprised how many people you’ll help and inspire.

www.Facebook.com/TheOrangeRhino
www.TheOrangeRhino.com

44 days down, 321 to go!

Dear Self,
You need to just chill out. And you need to remember why you started blogging in the first place. To have a place to go to for support. To keep yourself accountable, and on task. You didn’t start blogging to become a popular writer. What you write doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be real. And honest. Forget coming up with thesis statements and the like. This isn’t college. You aren’t getting graded. Phew. I really detested English class. Because I always got flustered writing. And yet here I am. Flustered. Go figure.

Remember, RELAX! (do you know what that means?),
Your Self
a.k.a. The Orange Rhino

*

Last week I threw a temper tantrum, to the likes of my 5 year old’s temper tantrums, although perhaps worse since I am 30+ and *should* have it all together. Which I SO don’t. It is actually a tossup as to whose temper tantrums are worse. Mine or my 5 year olds. Sadly, they are about the same. He just has 1-2 a day and I am down to 1-2 every few months. THANK GOD.

But last week’s was grand.  Complete with foot stomping, yelling, slamming my computer down, and some tears. All because I was frustrated. All because I had a vision of what I wanted to write and I couldn’t achieve it. I wanted what I wrote to be perfect, to make sense, to flow and say exactly what I wanted it to say. And it wasn’t flowing. And I just kept thinking, sh*t, this is a WASTE of my time because no one reads what I write. And I just kept obsessing over words, lines, trying to shorten my blog to make it fit the suggested length of a blog so people would read it, when really, I should have just put it out there.

I should have just stopped worrying what people think about me and instead used my babysitter time to have quality time with my baby while my sitter played with my 2.5 year old. And vice versa. That is the waste. Not the less than perfect writing. But the poor prioritization of my time. And really, that is what the tantrum was all about.

Or was it?

Was it really my being angry at myself for sucking at prioritizing. Is that really why I was mad?

Was it really my being angry at myself for not having self discipline, not knowing when to stop. Nope.

I have to be honest with myself, with you all. And this is going to be wicked embarrassing to admit. My tantrum was all because I was afraid of what people would think, that you wouldn’t like what I wrote, that you wouldn’t like me.  Why is that embarrassing to admit? I don’t know. I guess the part about caring so much about what others think of me and not having any self confidence to believe in myself?

I finished my tantrum and my babysitter who had just witnessed it looked at me.

“I think you should stop blogging. It is stressing you out.”

“No it’s not” (said grouchily, kind of like a barking dog, roof!)

“No really, it is.”

And that’s when I realized. The blog itself isn’t stressing me out. It’s the putting myself out there that is. I am the most insecure person you’ll meet. I spend probably way too much time out of my day worrying that I am not good enough, that people don’t like me, that I did something wrong, yaddah yaddah yaddah.

So this blog, in all of its wonderfulness, and this challenge, in all of its wonderfulness, is phenomenally difficult to me. It is like a double whammy – learning to not yell and learning to not care so much about what the negative stuff other people *might* or *might not* think of me and what I write.

So I turned my tantrum into a teaching moment. My babysitter LOVES when I act like her 2^nd mom (insert sarcasm).

“You’re right. I do seem stressed. But it is a good thing. It is positive stress. This blog, writing and sharing with the world, it’s forcing me to learn how to worry less about what people think (might think) about me. It’s forcing me to learn how to believe in myself first, to feel proud about what I wrote even if others don’t feel the same. This personal issue of worrying that others might think negatively about me has kept me stuck in many ways for my entire life. It’s held me back. If I can fight through it, I’ll come out a stronger, better, happier person.”

And I truly believe that.

So I am choosing to challenge myself. To  keep doing The Orange Rhino Challenge, the not yelling and the blogging. Because I believe I will come out stronger, better, and happier. It is HARD, REALLY HARD but it is so worth it.

www.facebook.com/TheOrangeRhino
www.TheOrangeRhino.com

43 days down, 322 to go! 

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

xoxo,
The Orange Rhino

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am an IMPATIENT person.

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

Because “love is patient.”

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

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

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

Exhibit 3: I am Impatient Because…

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

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

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

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

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

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www.TheOrangeRhino.com 

41 days down, 324 to go!

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

Much obliged,
The Orange Rhino

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is up to ME to control MY voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why am I stressed? Why am I overwhelmed?

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

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

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

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

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

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36 days down, 329 to go!

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

It’s been real,
The Orange Rhino

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HECK YES!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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35 days down, 335 to go!

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

xoxo,

The Orange Rhino

*

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

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

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

The pre-occupied mind moved in.

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

Then the physical exhaustion hit. WHAM.

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

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

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

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

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

But the explosion never came.

I continue to be surprised by myself.

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

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

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

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

But still, most every night I am antsy.

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

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

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

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

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

Wow, communication really has its perks.

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33 days down, 332 to go!

Dear sweet Husband,
Wow, you really taught me a lesson this past weekend. A frightening one. A thank god you taught me one. A thank god I am taking this challenge one. So thank you.

Xoxo,
your most appreciative wife, a.k.a
The Orange Rhino

*

Wow. Wow wow wow. What a moment. Lots of them actually all in the span of 90 minutes. Hilarious and scary (insightful) moments all at the same time.

It was Saturday.  A glorious, sunny Saturday. We slept in until 6:30 (insert sarcasm) and felt great.

We took the boys to go bowling as a reward for sleeping, scratch that, STAYING in their rooms until 6:30 am every morning for 5 days straight. We got to the bowling alley on schedule ie. early enough so we had time to play and then leave in time before the I’m hungry meltdowns started. We started having fun as planned (we’re big planners here at The Orange Rhino household).

Not planned? That #3 was strong enough to pick up the size 14 bowling ball…repeatedly! I was trying to feed the baby, my husband was trying to help #1 and #2 bowl (otherwise their balls got stuck in the middle of the lane) and #3, well he was busy trying to toss the size 14 ball, which if you don’t bowl is HEAVY, across the lane, towards our neighbors, who were, just a wee bit busy. You see, the father next to us was throwing a LOUD temper tantrum at his two tween aged sons.

“That’s it. We’re out of here. Brady, you cost me $20! I wanted to have fun. And you whined the whole time. We’re leaving. Put your shoes on, now!” He then threw the shoes at the two kids and walked away.

I felt so bad for the two boys. Not only were they clearly used to being scolded like this in public, but after witnessing the whole thing go down, after having done The Orange Rhino Challenge for a few weeks, I knew something I didn’t know before. That all the dad needed to do was to ask Brady, why are you so upset? He would have just answered…which he eventually did…that he was frustrated he couldn’t bowl as well as his dad. That he sucked. Sigh.

Now to be clear I AM NOT JUDGING. Why? Because I have said stuff like that before. Just not in public. My temper tantrums B.C. (Before Challenge) were ugly too. We all have our moments.

Thankfully for me, but not for the kids next to me, the dad’s behavior kept me in check because at that moment, when I was trying to feed a baby and keep  #3 in check, I too wanted to throw a temper tantrum. I wanted to scream “I can’t do this by myself. Husband, help me NOW! #3, enough already. Just sit next to me and color. STOP screaming every time I try to take the ball away!!”

Needless to say, when we left the Bowling Alley, I was exhausted.

My husband asked me if I had fun. I looked at him. Was he f*n nuts? I spent the whole time trying to keep #3 from starting WWIII with the neighbor. But yes, I guess it was fun…

On to lunch. #3 was still in a mood. God Bless him. We were all squished into a booth at Burger King (kid’s choice) and #3 wanted space. Needed space. Demanded space. He kept elbowing  #2 and me to move. Oh, and he was taking everyone’s French fries. Let’s just  say he was on no one’s good side. So my husband picked him up and left with him…screaming. It was another peaceful moment on this beautiful peaceful Saturday that we had planned to be a fun day.

Back in the mini-van. #3 is still crying that he didn’t get to eat his KETCHUP and my blood is boiling. I’m exhausted at this point from not yelling. I’m done. I start driving. #1 thinks it is funny to start screaming. #2 joins in and well #3 is still crying.

I HAD IT.

I pulled over to the side of the road as soon as it was safe. I turned to look at the kids. But instead I stopped and looked at my husband. He was covering his ears and leaning away from me.

He was waiting for me to BLOW. To lose it. To scream.

I just looked at him, totally confused, and said,

“What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you to scream.”

“Huh?”

“Oh right, you don’t yell anymore. You’re The Orange Rhino.”

Totally hilarious that he was taking cover from me. Totally embarrassing too. Totally sad that I used to yell that much and that loud that he was prepared. BUT totally awesome that I have stopped (fingers crossed).

So what did I do? I waited. Waited until the screaming stopped. Didn’t say a word. Just waited.

It finally stopped. THANK GOD.

And Thank God my husband took cover, thus pointing out to me that yes indeed, I did yell too much.

I am totally hoping I can keep this up, this not yelling thing. Because I really, REALLY, don’t want to be like that dad in the bowling alley (LIKE HOW I USED TO BE.) It was so not cool. And I really don’t want my boys to have the same sad, shamed look on their faces that the other boys did as that too was so not cool, more than not cool. It was heart wrenching.

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31 days down, 334 to go!

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

Fondly,

The Orange Rhino

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But let me be very clear.

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

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

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

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