Last night, we enjoyed dinner at my mom’s house, something I had been eagerly anticipating for days. There’s something special about being treated to a meal that someone else has prepared for you.
On our drive there, I reminded my kids about good manners. Even though they are older now, they still need gentle nudges on how to behave as guests in someone else’s home. But as soon as we sat down, the chatter about bathroom habits erupted. I shot them my best “you better stop right now” look, but they just stared back, as if daring me to say more. So, I warned them in no uncertain terms that they needed to cut it out.
That worked for a whole two minutes before they returned to their antics. Then my youngest began rolling on the floor, clamoring for dessert like a little wildling. That was it for me—I snapped and started yelling. Suddenly, they were all ears.
My kids often wonder why I raise my voice so frequently. When we’re out in public, I have no qualms about adding to the chaos they create. If they misbehave, you can bet I will call them out on it, embarrassment be damned.
It baffles me why it seems necessary for parents to reach their breaking point before being taken seriously. It’s a well-known phenomenon that partners and children often ignore you until your face turns crimson and it feels like you might explode.
So much frustration could be avoided (not to mention the sore throat and lost screen time) if they would simply listen the first time, or at least respond to “the look.” I honestly don’t understand why warnings fall flat. It seems that I have to get loud and assertive for them to truly hear me.
Moms find ourselves repeating the same things and questioning how our families manage to trigger our outbursts. Life would be so much simpler if they didn’t send us from zero to sixty in less than two seconds—it feels like a straightforward request.
No amount of electronics or snacks taken away seems to work. It’s as if they either forget my words or choose to ignore them, favoring their momentary mischief over compliance. After one particularly embarrassing incident at a store a few weeks ago, I told them it felt like they thrived on my meltdowns. If they truly didn’t enjoy the chaos, wouldn’t they just straighten up?
They know, whether I raise my voice or not, I always come out on top in the end. I really don’t get why they push me to my tipping point when it only complicates matters for everyone involved.
After 15 years of parenting, I remain hopeful that one day they’ll have a lightbulb moment. Imagine how magical life could be if they simply followed the rules the first time around. Until then, I’ll just be here, losing my voice in the process.
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In summary, losing my cool seems to be the only way to get my family’s attention, and it’s exhausting! I wish they could just listen the first time without all the drama.