Yelling became the default form of communication between me and my kids. Change was hard, but we're in a much better place now.

• Before I had kids, I judged moms who yelled. Then I had a few of my own and I got it.
• Raising my voice to get my kids' attention became the norm, but it set a dangerous precedent.
• With my husband's support, I was able to make some significant changes in how I react.

Before I had kids, I used to judge moms who yelled at their children in public. I thought I would be different, the kind of parent who never raised her voice. Years later, I found myself doing exactly what I swore I wouldn't: yelling to get my kids to listen.

With my firstborn son, I was much gentler. I had my struggles, but my anger was mostly in check. Then, my second and third children came along, and everything changed. A demanding full-time job (I work from home), health issues, and my husband's long work hours built up a frustration inside me that I didn't know how to handle. My tolerance for mischief significantly declined, and even minor annoyances set me off.

At first, yelling worked. One loud reprimand, and my kids dropped whatever they were doing. But I didn't realize I was setting a dangerous precedent.

Over time, they stopped responding to my normal voice. I found myself trapped in a cycle: ask nicely, ask again, raise my voice, and then finally yell. They only listened when I shouted, and I hated that version of myself.

The toll of constant yelling

The more I yelled, the more ineffective it became. In public, I could get them to behave with a stern look or a whispered warning. But at home, they had grown so used to my raised voice that they barely flinched unless I was full-blown shouting at them.

It wasn't just them who became accustomed to this behavior and volume — it was me, too. The feeling of not being heard, the loss of control, the constant frustration, it drained me. Some days, I was on the verge of tears. Other times, the stress triggered migraines. My husband, while often the friendlier parent, occasionally raised his voice too, but he never relied on it the way I did. I knew something had to change.

I knew I had to stop

One day, I had a migraine while home alone with the kids. My husband was at work, and I needed them to lower their voices. But no matter how many times I asked, they ignored me. I didn't have the energy to yell, and it hit me. I couldn't keep relying on shouting to get through to them.

Another moment of realization came when we had guests over late at night. My older kids had an exam the next morning, and I told them to go to bed. But they were too excited, playing with the guests' children, and completely disregarded me. I felt powerless, but I also didn't want to raise my voice in front of company. If I couldn't enforce boundaries without yelling, what kind of parent was I?

My youngest daughter, now 3, mimics everything her older brothers do. I realized that if I didn't change, she would grow up thinking that yelling was normal, too. That was my breaking point. I had to do better. For them and for myself.

How my husband and I turned things around

My husband and I agreed that things needed to change. He validated my frustration and stepped in to help, not by fixing my reactions but by supporting me. When situations started escalating, he intervened before I hit my breaking point. He also took on more responsibilities. Now, he gets the kids ready and drops them at school so I can start my day feeling more rested.

On my end, I worked on self-regulation. I let go of the little things, like a spilled cup of milk, noisy mornings, and chaotic pillow fights. I reminded myself that kids will be kids. No amount of yelling would magically turn them into quiet, mature adults.

Instead of raising my voice, I focused on consistency, active listening, and positive reinforcement. If they didn't listen, I followed through with consequences instead of shouting.

I admit, it was not an overnight fix. Some days, it felt like trying to tame a roaring dinosaur with a whisper. But I stuck with it.

One night, after a particularly calm bedtime routine, my younger son held my face and kissed me, saying, "You're a loving mom again." That moment reassured me I was on the right path. Slowly but surely, things improved. My kids started responding to my normal voice, and even when they pushed back, they did so with respect. They didn't want the old, yelling version of me any more than I did.

The chaos is still there, but I handle it differently

My house is still noisy. The kids still argue. There are still moments when things spiral out of control. But I have learned to handle it differently. And the best part? I have finally let go of yelling for good.