I could hear the chaos outside—screams and shouts that were far from alarming. It was just another morning, and I was frantically darting in and out of the house, collecting backpacks, swim gear, lunchboxes, and all the essentials for the day. With three kids—a 7-year-old and 5-year-old twins—loading the van requires multiple trips. It also demands an escalating series of reminders and a voice that could rival a rock concert, urging them to just put on their darn shoes and get into the car.
Welcome to our daily life; this is our norm. Unfortunately, because my family resembles a zoo, the scene at the end of the driveway was no different. The racket was coming from all three of my kids, each wielding an old badminton racket, pretending the garbage bin was a monster in need of defeat. Naturally, things took a wild turn as they transformed into mini Power Rangers, yelling “DIE!” and “POW POW!” while tossing their rackets around. For the record, we consider ourselves a peaceful family and typically discourage such chaos.
It was still before 8:00 a.m., and my kids were already deep into their shenanigans. If I were a parent with more patience, I might have calmly asked them to stop and consider the neighbors. But let’s be honest: I’m the one in charge here, and there’s no room for soft-spoken requests amid such nonsense. Instead, I found myself shouting, “KNOCK IT OFF! Someone’s going to get hurt, and I don’t want to deal with it!” As a racket whizzed past my head, I grabbed a child and shoved them into the car.
“ENOUGH! Do you think Dave wants to hear this? GET IN THE VAN!” The kids giggled and darted in circles, oblivious.
Just to clarify, Dave is our neighbor—the poor guy. I respect that some folks prefer a peaceful environment, but our brand of chaos seems to infiltrate every space we occupy. I’ve tried every parenting technique in the book, but the only thing that truly works is me losing my cool. I won’t claim to have embraced this reality, but I no longer fight it.
In the past, the mere thought of going out in public or hosting guests filled me with anxiety over my kids’ volume levels. Every word seemed to require an exclamation point, and I constantly found myself begging them to quiet down. But they simply can’t; they’re kids, after all. So now, I let them be loud. We either choose family-friendly spaces or stay home, and if guests come over, they need to either ignore the noise or embrace it like I do.
When we flew to visit my in-laws, I dreaded the thought of sharing a plane with my little ones and unsuspecting passengers. However, as I managed three kids, carry-ons, and a much-needed coffee, I realized I’d lost my concern. While the kids plugged into their tablets or the plane’s entertainment, they shouted over the sounds, demanded snacks, and loudly announced their bathroom needs—usually at the worst moments. Fellow travelers found them amusing; I found them exhausting. I was also a bit irritated with my partner, who napped through the chaos, mouth agape.
I could have been kinder, but I insisted she wake up to help. Snapping at each other is part of being a couple for 20 years; it’s just how we roll. During the twins’ first year, we had a rule: anything said between midnight and 6 a.m. didn’t count. Parenting three kids under three was no walk in the park, and even now that they’re older, it’s still a handful. We often express our frustrations openly, whether at home or in public.
Our family’s antics are part of a larger spectacle: spilled ice cream cones, discarded underwear in park restrooms, a packed backpack of snacks and supplies, and the delightful noise of our rambunctious kids—often in trouble. It’s a circus, and I’ve come to accept that.
Once I embraced this reality, I began noticing smiles from other parents. I saw relief on their faces, heard words of solidarity, and realized that a loud life is also one filled with love. If that makes us a traveling circus, then so be it.
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Summary:
This piece humorously captures the chaotic yet love-filled reality of parenting three kids, embracing the noise and disorder that comes with it. The author reflects on the challenges and joys of family life, illustrating how acceptance can lead to a more joyful experience.