Not Yelling

I have been having a challenging time with my son lately.  It feels like the perfect storm of terrible twos, frustration, and plain old stubbornness.  We actually yelled at each other yesterday morning, a moment I am not proud of, and one that I recognized as a terrible parenting moment even while in it.  I later cried to Nick about it, and he calmed me down, assuring me it wasn't so bad.  Still, I know that yelling isn't the best way to accomplish things, so this morning as I walked in to get Christian out of bed, I gave myself a pep-talk.  Stay calm, don't take it personally, don't get mad, don't yell.  Breathe.

Christian started to yell at me almost immediately.  I took him out to the living room and asked him if he wanted milk, if he wanted to watch a movie, or if he wanted to snuggle.   Each question was answered with more screaming and yelling, and such willfulness, you wouldn't believe.  Deep breaths.  I calmly told Christian that if he was going to scream at me then I was going to leave.  He screamed.  I walked into the kitchen.  He screamed louder. 

For those of you cringing right now, please keep in mind that he wasn't crying or hurting in any way.  He was mad and telling me about it.  Such a Leo.  When he quieted down for a moment I walked back and asked him if he was ready to be a big boy.  I got a very hostile "NO!" to which I replied that he would have to go to time out if he continued to yell.  He did, and he went to time out.  I carried him to the guest bed, and pulled the covers up over him so at least he wouldn't be miserable and cold.  To my astonishment, a few minutes later I heard nothing but silence.  I peeked in the room and couldn't quite tell if he was just clam or asleep.  I decided not to risk it, and tiptoed to the living room to finish my coffee in peace.

About fifteen minutes later, I heard Christian start to talk quietly to himself.  I walked in to get him, crossing my fingers that he wouldn't start yelling again.  He turned to me, smiled, and said in the sweetest voice "I'm ready to be a big boy and say I'm sorry Mommy."  I almost fainted.  But instead I picked him up and once in my arms, he looked me in the eye and said "I'm sorry."  I'm not making this up.  I gave him the tightest hug I could, kissed him a million times, and told him I loved him.  We went into the living room and had a beautiful morning.  So I guess not yelling worked much better than yelling.  Who would have thought?