5 Things I Learned When I Stopped Yelling At My Kids

Being a mother is a difficult task. And how it is! But it’s also the best way to enhance our existence. Sometimes the anguish of everyday life does not allow us to remember the wonderful task we have in our hands and we end up screaming or scolding our children. Not because we are tired of them, but because the tiredness appears as a result of the endless additional tasks that we have to be a mother, as if they were little.

However, sometimes we are the ones who set ourselves some very high goal. We want perfect children, those who don’t raise their voices or get their clothes dirty. Or those children who are discreet and greet everyone with kisses. We want kids who get good grades and have perfectly tidy rooms, who read quickly at age 6, and who don’t get disheveled. Children who don’t lose their toys and who do their homework on their own… We want children who only exist in magazines!

So what I learned when I stopped yelling at my kids was:

The perfect is the enemy of the good

When I stopped yelling at my kids, I learned that I don’t need to be a perfect mom. That is, that I’m not in a daily competition to show anyone anything. I understood that my children prefer me to be less self-righteous and planned and more spontaneous and happy.

Maybe folding clothes in the morning or washing dishes at another time will make me a more human, happier, more relaxed mother. It makes me a better mother. Maybe my house isn’t those magazine-cover houses. But my kids’ smiles are and that’s because I stopped yelling at them.

I don’t have perfect kids, but I don’t want perfect kids either.

My children are perfectly imperfect. These are common children: they spill the juice, they don’t like to take a shower, they complain about tidying the room, they don’t like vegetables and they always want a new toy. And how could it be different? They are children!

I love my kids just as they are. They are like a whirlwind of laughter and gooey kisses. My children are sometimes reckless because they are spontaneous. sometimes they are grumblers because they have their own opinions about things. Sometimes they are capricious because they just want to be happy. These are my children: perfectly imperfect. They are children.

I am the mother my children need

Even before their arrival in my life, I already had ideas of how I wanted to raise my children. When they were on their way I planned what I was going to do in each situation. I didn’t want to be an impromptu mother.

I wondered how I was going to teach my children to pray. And how he was going to teach good table manners. I told myself that I would never give my son anything to eat and that I would teach him to be brave, independent and generous. Anyway, I made plans with people I didn’t know. What a big mistake!

I soon realized that I must be the mother that each of my children needs. Not the mother I planned to be. Sometimes I need to be firm, sweet at others, sometimes protective and sometimes impulsive. Each child needs a different mother because each one is different.

The looks of others in excess

I have some good friends with whom I can honestly share the difficulties I sometimes encounter in raising my children. In those moments I hear their difficulties too. We laugh and worry together, look for alternatives, or call each other’s attention. They are my partners, after my children’s father, in this matter of motherhood.

But I’ve also learned that there are some looks and words that come in excess. These are the looks and words of insincere people who fake perfection just to look perfect. These days this is of no value to me. I think these people need to do this to have someone to brag about.

I learned to overcome myself

Of all the things I learned, my children taught me to build strength in times when I felt drained. So they taught me to rise above myself, to be a better human being, to forgive myself with unshakable faith in the next opportunity. They taught me to discover that I am strong and persevering. More than I thought. They taught me to focus on a goal, not obstacles. And to realize that I can hit them without yelling at my kids.

These days I really am a better version of myself compared to when they were born. They made me reinvent myself, challenged me to be someone better. Maybe my body and my dark circles say otherwise. I won’t even talk about my nails! I’m not saying I didn’t miss seeing myself as I used to. It would certainly be great, but I don’t trade it for having made me what I am today.

Every day I get up with the desire to be a worthy mother, with an inexhaustible strength to be able to educate my children as each one of them needs. Not as I would like, in order to satisfy my ego. Really, not every night I go to bed satisfied. Some yes, and a lot, but others I feel I’m going to bed owing a better day to my children, some hugs and maybe more patience. On these days, more than on any other, I go to bed totally convinced that the next day I will have another opportunity not to yell at my children.