I’m a yeller
I’m a yeller. I yell. I grew up in a boisterous Greek home where high volume meant excitement. It also meant trouble or sadness. Because of this, I go from zero to yelling really fast. It’s not my best feature.
I have a three and a half year old boy the size of a six year old who’s boisterous. He likes sports, video games and movies. He yells. Because of this, we yell a lot at each other. Mostly out of excitement, but sometimes out of anger.
Recently, a study came out saying that kids who grow up in households with 25 or more “yelling incidents” each year can suffer from depression and low self esteem. Did they take into account Greek families? Italians? Portuguese? We are boisterous, yelling people (many of us, anyways). Yelling doesn’t always come from a place of anger.
We live in the world of Google where a parent can find out exactly what they’re doing wrong in 10 seconds. So, basically, I’ve broken my children and they will be miserable adults because of the shortcomings of their mother.
Google again. My love and support will carry them through to becoming well rounded adults.
Google again. OOOOOH muffins.
What I’m saying is, maybe step away from the net and trust your gut, and I’ll try it too. No point beating ourselves up for something that hasn’t happened yet.
But let’s talk about those muffins.