I am mommy, hear me roar.

I used to live by a family that was always yelling. The parents, the kids- yelling. Always yelling. I remember being able to hear them yelling at each other. To this day, there is a strange uncomfortableness when I visit. I never wanted to be 'that house.'

I find myself wondering though, if we have become 'that house.' There are days, much like today that I really feel that I have failed. That I could and SHOULD do better. I lose my cool way to easy. I yell too quickly, and too often. I never claimed to be soft spoken, but I never thought I was a 'screaming mom' either.

There was an episode of Dr. Phil where a woman allowed them to video tape her at home and in the car. She was shocked to see that she was constantly yelling at her kids. Her voice was shrill, and angry and intimidating. I thought it was sad. I made a mental note to not be her. I thought about her today. The picture of her losing her cool and verbally wailing on this young boy, (maybe age 12?) came rushing to my mind.

I should have been better prepared. I should have taken the cups out of the bath tub. There are other bath toys. Bath toys that Danny does NOT use to pour water on to the bathroom floor- EVERY FUCKING TIME! I should have had their soap on the edge of the tub, so I did not have to turn my back to him and he would not have been able to pour the entire 20 ounce cup of water on the bathroom floor- AGAIN.

But he did. And I yelled. Loud enough to scare both naked toddlers. I threw both cups into the sink, causing them to bounce back and sort of go flying across the room. I soaped Danny up, rinsed him off wrapped him in a towel and pushed him out of the bathroom to his dad, who decided NOT to come in and see if I was ok. (He knows me well enough to know my answer.) I turned to Gabriel, who didn't seem to know WHAT to think. I yelled at him too, Asked him if he was going to make a fuss about the colored soap? He frighteningly shook his head no.

While I soaped him up, I started to calm down. I realized that HE hadn't done anything, and that HE never poured water on the floor, and that while he was arguing with me about the blue soap, at the moment that I turned my back to get the blue soap. The blue soap (that sort of paints him blue and washes away) that he does not like- so why do I insist on using it?? He let me use it anyway, probably not wanting to test me further. He reiterated that he was a good boy (he does this when Danny gets in trouble) and that he was a big boy, and Danny is still a baby.

Danny is still a baby.

It comes from Bill, my step dad. He yelled a lot. Aggression was the way he worked. He scared the ever-livin out of me, because he always yelled, cussed a lot, and hovered over me when he did it. For all my 5 feet tall, I still must seem like a giant to them.

I hate myself at the moment. I need to try to yell less. Love more. Understand and be more patient. I can love them, and discipline them without screaming all the time. I can get my point across, raise my voice when it's appropriate. But I do it all the time, so quickly. Sometimes it's necessary, but sometimes it's not deserved. They deserve to have me not screaming every time I'm unhappy. Being 3 and 4 does not warrant my rage every time something goes awry.

They are 3 and 4, something is ALWAYS awry. I wonder how much of that has to do with me- more than them?