Hey Reader,

You’re cooking dinner, the kids playing in the next room, when you hear it:

Your eldest is frustrated with your youngest for not handing over a toy.

He raises his voice...

Makes a threat.

And your heart sinks as you realise:

His words are the exact ones you used with him yesterday, his tone the same one you’d resorted to when he still hadn’t done as you’d asked after the fifth time asking.

You lay down the vegetable you’re halfway through chopping, the sibling squabble fading to the background as the shame descends…

“Is this really what I’m passing on?” you ask yourself. “My impatience? My inability to control my anger?”

There’s a pit in your stomach, a deep-seated fear that you’re messing them up.

But you aren’t, mama.

Your child yells, hits, and snatches in frustration because they lack the skills to deal with that feeling in an effective way.

Not because they’re a bad kid.

And the same is true for you:

If you’re snapping and making threats, it’s because in that moment, the frustration becomes bigger than the skills you have to manage it — so it takes over.

It makes sense that you snap because your emotions are in the driver’s seat.

But when you have the right skills to manage your frustration, you’ll be changing the behaviour at the root: the frustration that drives it.
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When that underlying emotion feels manageable, your response will start to feel like a choice again, and you’ll see yourself respond in a way you’re proud of.

And the good news? We already have evidence that your kids are watching and learning.

They’ll watch and learn from your positive example, too. They’ll quickly take it on.

Until the evening you’re in the kitchen, pouring out the pasta water, when you hear it:

You eldest, pausing to find calm. Then the clear but kind words you used yesterday.

And your heart will swell with pride.

In support of you,

Kirsti

Mum of two | Coaching Psychologist (MAPPCP)

In my world

Lately my eldest daughter has been having a hard time accepting that I’m not the one putting her to sleep, clinging and crying before bed about it, and my initial impulse was to feel frustrated. Her dad has been doing it for almost two years now while I feed the baby to sleep, I thought, I’ve been spending all day everyday with her lately while my husband works and we’re without childcare — how is it still not enough? But then one afternoon the baby took a danger nap, pushing her bedtime way out, and I realised I had a rare opportunity: the chance to be the one to put my eldest to sleep like she so badly wanted. Her excitement was big. As I closed the storybook and went to turn off the light before cuddling her to sleep, she gave me a look of such joy, my heart exploded with gratitude. Who knew I also so badly needed the chance to have her fall asleep in my arms, nothing to focus on but her, like she did for so long as a baby? She knew. Of course she did.