Even Disney Parents Yell

Like every good parent of young children, I watch a lot of Disney movies. The Incredibles was on tv the other day and I caught a few minutes in between answering the demands of two children. During 10 minutes of the movie I had time to watch, Elastigirl (the mom), yelled at her children several times.

Then, I watched Moana and the dad yelled at her a couple times (not as many as the mom in The Incredibles).  The dad yells in Finding Nemo a LOT.

All the parent who don’t yell, get axed at the beginning of the movie (Bambi, Frozen, Finding Nemo). Maybe the key for parents to survive in Disney movies is to yell at their kids.

Honestly though, I yell at my kids way more than I care to admit. Thursdays are my worst day because I have had them by myself for 4 days. That’s 4 days of getting them up, ready, out the door on time. Four days of making lunches, dinners, breakfast, refilling milk cups, wiping butts (yes, I still assist my 3.5 year old with his butt because the alternative is unthinkable). Four days of hearing the word “mommy” until my ears bleed.

I have read all the studies of how I am damaging my kids. Even worse, sometimes I can see it on their faces. I apologize. I give them love and let them know I was wrong. I also tell them how they could be helpful or why I got so upset. I hate that I yell at them. There have been countless nights I have cried because of my behavior.

The other day, my son saw a mud puddle and ran to it like a fly on honey. I asked him three times to walk away. After the third time, I walked to him and pulled him away. I asked him why he didn’t listen and he said, “I had to because MUD!”

After 5 years of studying early childhood development, this one little statement had more of an impact than anything I had ever read. This sweet little boy couldn’t listen to me because that mud could not be ignored but I could. That mud looked as good to him as a piece of pizza does to me when I am dieting.

So last night, after asking 5 times for him to get into bed, I walked over, took his hand, told him to put the toys away, and walked him to bed. And he went without a fight. No yelling. No lost temper. No feeling like a horrible mother whose children will never develop normal relationships or need years of therapy because their mother yelled.

Today is only Wednesday, so I’m not saying that by Thursday, I’ll be back to the Disney mom who survives to the end of the movie. For now, I take comfort in that I might have learned something that will make me a better mom. And even if I yell or lose my temper, Disney moms do too.