Kids · a letter from Momma
I yelled at my kids again. Now what?
Why a small “no” can set off something so big, the four moves before you go over the edge, and how to come back after.
Dear Momma,
It’s 7:52. You asked for shoes at 7:35, nicely. Again at 7:41, with a reason. At 7:46 you asked from the doorway with your keys in your hand, and you heard the edge come into your voice. At 7:50 you found them on the bottom stair with one sock on, and they looked straight at you and said it. “No.” Flat.
Something came out of you that wasn’t about shoes. You remember the volume, and the shoe you threw down the hall, not at anyone, just away, hard enough to hit the baseboard. You remember their face going from flat to frightened in about a second. And now you’re in the bathroom with the tap running, and the question isn’t “how do I get them in the car.” It’s “who was that?”
Start with this. It wasn’t the shoes.
What the “no” landed on
Most of us are good at crises. The split chin, the 3 a.m. stomach bug, the call from school: calm when it counts. What sends us over is smaller. A flat “no.” The fifth time you asked. A particular tone.
When the size of your reaction is far bigger than what happened, that gap is information. Something else got hit. Usually it’s one of three things, and often two at once:
- Old. It found something older than this morning: a house where pushing back got you punished, or where nobody listened. It feels bigger than the moment, sometimes in a voice that doesn’t sound like yours.
- Spent. It landed on empty: five hours of sleep, no breakfast, someone on you since dawn. Spent isn’t a character flaw. It’s a measurement.
- Now. A real line really was crossed. That anger is useful: it gets you moving and stops you negotiating. But anger can decide that you act. It can’t decide how hard.
None of these is a diagnosis, and none is an excuse. You still threw the shoe, and you still owe the repair. But you can’t change a reaction you don’t understand, and you can change a great deal about one you do.
Use it next time: four moves at the edge
- Check everyone’s safe. One look: the stairs, the road, the stove, the baby.
- Bring your hands home. Flat on the counter, in your pockets, folded under your arms. Hands never go on a child in anger.
- Make some distance. One step back. If your child is safe, tell them where you’re going and when you’ll be back, and step into the next room for a minute. Never if they’re unsafe on their own, and never as a threat.
- Decide nothing. Anything decided at the edge comes out the size of your anger. One sentence holds the line: “I’ll tell you what happens next once I’ve calmed down.”
If it already happened
Wait until you’ve both come down. Then crouch to where they are and say two sentences: “I got loud about the shoes, and I threw one. That was mine, and I’m sorry.” Then: “Shoes on now, and we’ll go.” Then stop.
No speech about how tired you are. No treat to buy it back. And don’t ask them to make you feel better about it; that was never their job. Don’t promise it will never happen again, either. You can’t guarantee that, and every broken promise costs you some of their trust. Promise the repair instead: whatever happens, you’ll come back.
When it’s more than a bad morning
If you’re ever afraid of what you might do, put your child somewhere safe first, like a crib for a baby or toddler. Then step out, even if they’re crying, and call someone. If it feels like something you might actually do, call your local emergency number now. If you’re having thoughts of suicide, or you’re frightened by how dark things have gotten, call or text 988, in the US or Canada, any time.
If your hands have hurt your child, look after them first: check them properly, and get them seen if they’re hurt. Then talk to your own doctor this week. If you’re worried about your child’s safety, from you or anyone else, talk to their doctor, or, if they may be in danger, your local child protection services or the police.
If your anger frightens you, or keeps going further than you meant, talk to your own doctor this week. And if looking back at your own childhood brings up more than reflection can hold, please talk to a doctor or a qualified mental health professional. You deserve real help with that.
What happened matters. So does what you do next. You can take responsibility, make the repair, and get help if this keeps happening. You’re not ruined.
— Momma
This letter draws on When It Boils Over, the Kids Guide for when you’re the one who loses it: for the moment your voice goes up, and the guilt that follows, what sets you off, how to step away without leaving them, and how to come back.
