I normally don’t honk my horn when driving for no other reason than I can’t stand the sound. Sure on occasion I do the light, gentle “beep” if someone is hanging out at a red light just turned green. And yes, if I am close to getting into an accident I’ll do the more firm, “BEEP” to keep both cars safe. But hardly if ever do I use the horn besides that.

But today I did and I immediately felt like a total ass afterwards.

Today was just one of those go, go, GO kind of days. It was also one of those, everything that could make me late for every appointment did happen, kind of days. It was a real doozer. So needless to say when I was driving late to our last appointment of the day and I found myself stopped behind two cars waiting for the first car to turn left, for oh say five minutes, I became a wee bit frustrated. I mumbled to myself things like, “Come on already, just turn!” and “What’s your problem, you so could have turned!” The driver in front of me clearly shared the same frustration, for she honked after the driver refused to take the third totally safe opportunity to turn. It was a gentle honk, though, one of the polite ones, so it was cool.

Mine, however, not so cool.

After the fifth opportunity passed, I did a, “BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!” and then knocked my head against the window impatiently as the sixth opportunity passed! Finally the person turned and I could see the driver’s face clearly. His face didn’t show signs of, “oops, I shouldn’t be looking at my phone, I should be turning,” or “shit, I haven’t been fully paying attention.” Nope. Instead, it showed signs of patience and diligence which given the age of the person, and given my past experience with drivers of this age, is a rarity.

It was a high school student.

A high school student driving responsibility, safely and intelligently; a high school student being vigilant; a high school student not speeding or driving recklessly like so many do. I shouldn’t have honked at him. Instead, I should have turned left, followed him down the dead end road, got out of my car and said,

“Hey, good job. Driving is a big responsibility and you are taking it seriously. You ignored the honking car and waited until you felt safe. Keep driving like that.”

Quite frankly, he deserved my praise, not my impatience.

But he got my impatience because I assumed that he had no good reason for not turning. He got my impatience because I assumed that he was busy texting or chatting with someone. He got my impatience because I didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt. He got my impatience not because he deserved it, but because I was running late. My problem, not his.

As I drove away today, I felt ashamed of myself for being so quick to honk. It was a very familiar feeling; it’s how I used to feel when instead of slowing down and thinking about what good my kids might be up to, I assumed they were up to no good and yelled because of it. Sure, sometimes my assumptions were spot on (um, all four kids are quiet, and daddy’s Ipad is missing. Hmm?) But lots of times, my assumptions weren’t spot on, but actually far from spot on.

Take one day last month for example. My four year old absolutely, positively, refused to get into bed and as such, my patience absolutely, positively, refused to stay chill! My hands started to sweat and I knew a yell was growing quickly and furiously. Before I could even go into my closet to yell and let of my frustration, my son joyfully yelled,

“Yeah! I found it! I’ve been looking for it all night. That’s why I couldn’t go to bed!”

He ran and grabbed “it,” then ran back to me and held it up for me, pleased as punch.

“It” was a cup with hearts all over it that he had received that day at his Valentine’s Day party.

“Here mommy,” he lovingly said, “I wanted to give you this cup. You can use it when you drink water at night. Then you’ll think of me and how know how much I love you.”

My heart didn’t know if it should stop from the immense shame I felt for almost going ape shit on him when he was just trying to do something good, really good, or if it should beat wildly from the incredibly sweet gesture. It stopped for a second, and then beat wildly as I looked at his precious face and the smile that I swear went from ear to ear. He was so proud and happy. I was so proud and happy oh him and yes, I was proud and happy of myself for not yelling. I took the cup, scooped him up into my arms to thank him for being so loving and thoughtful, and then thanked The Orange Rhino powers that be that helped me stay calm long enough for him to find the cup.

I can’t get this memory out of my mind. Not just because I felt so bad for assuming he was just trying to delay bedtime and almost yelled because of it, but more so because it reminds me that good things happen when I don’t yell. If I had lost it before he found the cup, I am certain he would have given up and gone to bed crying while screaming, “You are the worst mommy ever!” Instead, he showed me how much he loved me.

Yep, good things happen when my mind and my mouth don’t drive recklessly.

I try to remember this as often as possible on tough days when I just want to scream. It motivates me to go slow and not speed through the morning or bedtime routine which would only increase chances of yelling. It motivates me to stop and to think before reacting and risking the chance of a blowout. It motivates me to be vigilant and look out for my triggers or any stressful situations for my boys that could negatively impact their behavior and therefore mine.

And it motivates me to be cautious with my actions so that just like the high school driver today, I can make the right move, at the right time, and in the right manner so unlike today, I don’t feel yucky for my actions, but rather lucky that I had another great time with my boys.

Let me see if I can find an appropriate adjective or term to perfectly describe my mood the last, oh shall we say, two and a half months?

Beastly?
Bitchy?
Grumpy?
Irritable?
Blech?
Rageful?

All of these words totally work, and yet they don’t seem fully accurate. There must be a better term to describe someone who wakes up grouchy (after being pounced on numerous times by the kids), grouses through the entire morning routine, hardly smiles, barely laughs, and always yawns. Oh wait, wait, I got it…

SLEEP DEPRIVED!

Yes, that is just the term to describe me this entire year of 2014 thus far. Massively, utterly, sleep deprived. For the last few months, every night I crawled into bed tired and yet unable to fall asleep. I stared, and stared, and stared at the blinds hoping that my mind would stop racing and that it would catch up to my beyond exhausted body and shut down for the night.  But it didn’t. So instead, as my husband snored away next to me, blissfully asleep I just lay there and watched the clock get closer and closer to 11:00 and then 11:30 and then midnight. This would be “manageable” if my boys didn’t wake before the birds; if they didn’t get up to pee at 5:30 every morning and then play loudly in their rooms until 6:00. Five and a half hours a sleep with four energetic boys to parent is just not a good combination, except of course if you are creating a recipe for disaster!

As more and more weeks passed under these circumstances, I found my mood increasingly worsening and right a long with it, my desire to yell increasing. I of course just assumed that my increasing desire to yell had to do with other things that had nothing to do with sleeping. (Why I assumed this I have no idea since I discovered early in my challenge that I need sleep to be civil!) Yep, I assumed it was because of the extra snow days, the extra pounds from said snow days and my inability to exercise from my injury, and the extra stress from other areas of life.

Until one morning.

I came down with the boys and started to prepare breakfast. Before I knew it, a raging feeling roared inside of me, screaming to get out, pushing me to yell bloody awful things at my kids. To be fully honest, the intensity of the emotion scared me – not because I feared I would go ape shit, but because I felt in that moment that I had no control over my body. I had no reason to be angry with my boys; they were being quite peaceful and well behaved actually and yet I wanted to bite their heads off. I felt like my body was on fire, totally off balance and unable to chill the f… out! I felt totally hormonal…wait, I felt just like I did after every single one of my boys was born and I was getting exactly zero sleep!

A light bulb went off and I realized that all my crappy, I-just-want-to-yell-because-I-have-no-patience-or-tolerance-at-all-right-now feelings were being driven a lot by massive sleep deprivation. I realized that I was working overtime to “Yell Less and Love More” wasn’t because I didn’t know how to not yell, it was because I didn’t have the energy or the mental capacity to keep myself as cool, calm, and collected as I need to be in order to “easily” yell less.

I realized that my sleep deprivation had to be solved, ASAP.

I was miserable, my kids were miserable, shoot, I am fairly certain everyone in my life was miserable with my sleep-deprived state. Sleep deprivation blows – I know I don’t have to tell you that. So instead, I will tell you what I am doing to kick it to the curb because as you also probably know, it is a huge trigger for yelling! So, here you go!

A few days after my lack of sleep epiphany, I went to my doctor.

“Doctor, I can’t fall asleep at all! I have bags under my eyes, I am constantly grouchy, I don’t like who I am right now, I need to change, now! Please, help!”

She offered this…

“You have insomnia, again. We need to battle that directly. What do you do half an hour before bed?” she asked.

“Honestly? I am on Facebook, aimlessly reading and reading and reading the same stuff over again. Or I am on People.com looking at all the ‘beautiful’ pictures. Or I am on Weather.com praying that it doesn’t say ‘Winter Storm Warning’ again. Or I am watching television or emailing.” I answered.

What did she think I was doing?! Once the kids hit the bed, it is my time! I need to catch up on things, you know like who wore what to the Oscars (okay, I needed to avoid doing things I need to do because I don’t want to) but also I legitimately had emails that I needed to get to.

“Okay, that needs to stop. No electronics thirty minutes before bed. Period. Electronics just get the mind all wired. You need to use those thirty minutes to unwind; to get your mind to settle down. Just like you do a bedtime routine for your kids, you need one for yourself. ” she stated matter-of-factly.

“So, what can I do then? I have read that hot showers just get the body temperature up and don’t help one sleep. I don’t like warm milk and I don’t like tea.” I stated just as matter-of-factly, but also with a bitter tone, for certain.

“How about reading? That helps a lot of people relax.” She replied.

“Can I read parenting books?” I asked innocently…and hopefully!

“Not if they stress you out about how to be a better parent.” She replied.

Well, shit. Of course they stress me out – I feel like a super inadequate parent now (daily?!) and am reading parenting books to find out how to be better and apparently, there is a lot I can be doing “better.” And double shit, the only time I have to read them IS at night and I like reading IN bed. Feeling totally screwed and out of options, I sarcastically, yet totally seriously asked,

“Okay, so what do normal people do to relax? I don’t know to relax. Seriously.”

She laughed at me (politely-ish) and suggested I try puzzles or folding laundry or tidying up the house. She also suggested that I write down everything that is on my mind so it doesn’t hang out in my mind while I try to sleep AND she suggested I write down all that I DID accomplish that day so that I don’t worry at night about all I have to do. She added the session with some “wise” words,

“The bed is for sex and sleep only. End of story. Do not get in the bed except for those reasons. If you don’t think you’ll be able to fall asleep, get up and get something done. Do not get into bed without winding down – you will not sleep well.”

Knowing how miserable I have been in my sleep deprived state, knowing how much I have been frustrated by how hard I have had to work to not yell, and knowing how much I preach “take care of you so you can yell less more easily,” I took all her words to heart and left her office promising myself that I would take care of me.

The results are clear.

The nights I unwind per her advice, I sleep phenomenally and wake up rested and able to tackle the day and have much more positive, fun-filled, loving days.

The nights I don’t, eh hem, like last night, I wake up on the wrong side of the bed and start the day hundreds of steps behind my kids and the entire day is an uphill battle.

So on that note, it is 9:23. In seven minutes I need to stop all electronics and fold laundry and write out my accomplishments/to-dos. This by the way has worked – and felt – wonderful!

Sleep deprivation blows. Often time it is unavoidable. But I know I want to avoid yelling at my boys so I am going to keep on trying to get as much sleep as I can…both for me, and my boys.

Sleep tight everyone!

Hi everyone! This is a quick post. I just learned that our community was mentioned in an article about yelling featured on www.today.com (NBC news!) As a result, I know that a lot of new people are coming here, no doubt looking for guidance on how to change, hope that he/she can change, and support to change! So…

Welcome! I wanted to put up some quick links to help our new Orange Rhinos get started – and to help anyone else feeling like he/she needs a re-start today! This is by no means a complete list but I hope it will help you get started.

INSPIRATION: Here is my Epiphany that helped me realized it was time to change and that I could change because I already knew how to not yell. Click here. 

GUIDANCE: I had no formal plan when I started my journey to stop yelling, but as I reflected upon the year, I realized that I loosely followed these 12 steps. Click here to get yourself started and by the way, you already did step 1 so congratulations! “12 Steps to Stop Yelling at Your Kids”

HOPE: Here is one of my favorite stories that proved to me that not yelling has major upsides. I think of this story often when I need to cool down. Click here: “Is Not Yelling Worth it?”

Even more HOPE: This is a funny, totally casual look at the journey to yell less. Not only did I know I could not yell because I never did in public, but I also realized that there are several other things I have taught myself in life that required the same actions need to not yell. Click here for “Learning to Hold a Yell”

SUPPORT: The Orange Rhino Community is the most wonderfully supportive, kind, and non-judgemental group of moms, dads, caregivers, teachers, grandparents, and anyone else determined to yell less and love more. Our community is international – we have Orange Rhinos from The United States to Chile to Australia to Germany to Spain to Mexico to India to Ireland.  Join us at our Facebook page www.facebook.com/TheOrangeRhino for daily tips and as a great place to “yell” and get support when the milk spills on the floor, again! Also, we have a PRIVATE online community where you can find others like you and gain a support network. I really encourage you to check this out! www.theorangerhino.com/community

I hope you find these few links helpful – I will try to add more to this post later tonight.

Welcome and all my best on your journey to yell less and love more – BELIEVE in yourself because you can change.

The Orange Rhino

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I just can’t stop crying today!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I laughed right along with her and replied,

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

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

An entirely different and ass backwards story.

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

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

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

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

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

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

So I corrected the situation as best as I could.

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

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

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

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

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

And better I did.

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

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

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

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

Failure is out and Forgiveness is in.

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