How to stop yelling at your kids: a guide for dads
You've decided not to yell a hundred times. Then it's six-thirty, the shoes still aren't on, and it happens anyway. Here's why deciding isn't enough, and what to practice instead.
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Don't start by trying not to yell. Start by noticing what happens in your body right before you do: the heat in your chest, the jaw, the grip. Practice noticing it on small stuff first. Name it in three words. And when you yell anyway, go back and apologize with nothing after “but.”
Why do I yell at my kids so much?
Usually not because you've decided to. Most dads who yell describe it the same way: it was out before they chose it. Tired, stressed from work, not being listened to for the fourth time, late for school. The kid did something small and the reaction was big.
Week two of The Better Father starts here. There are two ways a man moves: one is fast and arrives already formed, the sharp answer, the door that closes before you decided to close it. The other has a gap in it, a breath between the thing that happens and what you do about it. Most capable men have paved that gap over, because speed paid off at work. At home it costs.
Is the anger really about the shoes?
Often not, or not all of it. The program puts it plainly: sometimes the heat is just the room, but often the size of it is old, bigger than the room you're standing in. For a lot of dads it goes back to their own father, or to a day at work that came home with them. That isn't an excuse. It's useful, because if the heat isn't really about the shoes, you don't have to act on it as if it were.
A question worth asking, quietly, after you've caught it: how old is this? You don't need an answer. Just ask.
What happens right before I yell?
Something moves before the words do. Usually not a thought. A heat in the chest, a tight jaw, your grip on the phone or the steering wheel, a heat in the face. If you can find that, you've found the moment before the yell.
Once today, when irritation flashes with your kid, ask one question: what moved first? The chest, the jaw, the hands, the heat in the face. Find it before you find the words. If you can, do one small thing with your body right then: unclench your hands, or take one step back. If you only notice afterward, that counts too: replay the moment tonight and find what moved first.
Can I stop yelling once I'm already angry?
You don't have to wait until you're calm. That's the mistake most of us make: we think the goal is to stop feeling the heat. It isn't. The heat will come for the rest of your life. The goal is a gap between the heat and your mouth, and you can find it while your heart is still pounding.
The simplest tool the program teaches is three words. The second you feel it come up, name it, in your head: There's the heat. The feeling stays. But the one who can name the anger isn't the anger, and now there's a little room between you and your mouth.
How do I practice when nothing's happening?
On small stuff, on purpose. A rep you only try when the house is on fire is a rep you'll almost always miss. So practice on the slow driver, the cold coffee, the email that's slightly wrong. Name it, find the gap, choose something a little different. The grandfather in the books calls a stripped bolt “a free one.”
Take three free reps today: three small irritations, on purpose. Name it, find the gap, choose something small and different. Make at least one of them with your kid. With a little one: the wrong-color cup, "No, I do it!" when you're trying to zip their coat, the fourth song at bedtime. Say the three words in your head, then pick the slower answer: hand over the blue cup, let them fight the zipper for one more minute. With an older kid: the shrug, the plate left on the counter, the "in a minute." Name it, then ask once, in a normal voice, and leave it there.
What should I say instead of yelling?
Less. When the urge is to lecture, say one sentence and stop. “Shoes on, we're leaving in two minutes.” Then help with the shoes. The lecture about responsibility can wait for a calm day, and you may find it doesn't need giving at all.
And if you need a minute, say so: “I'm too hot to talk about this right now. Give me five minutes.” Then come back in five.
What do I do when I yell anyway?
You will. Every dad does. Go back as soon as you can keep your voice level and say: “I yelled. That wasn't fair. You didn't deserve that.” Nothing after “but.” The full guide to apologizing after yelling →
Then, later, the two questions the program uses after any miss: what happened? and what do I want to do differently? No hour of beating yourself up. That isn't taking it seriously; it's just more yelling, aimed inward.
Does stress from work make it worse?
It can. If your worst moments come in the first half hour after you walk in, before you've put the day down, that's worth noticing. A sixty-second reset at the front door →
How do I get them to listen without yelling?
Have the rule and the consequence ready before you need them: say it once up close, give one warning, then follow through in a normal voice. How to discipline without yelling →
What if my kid is a toddler?
Then the shoes are a battle every morning, and reasoning doesn't work yet. The same ideas apply, sized down: get low, say one sentence, help with the next step. How to stay calm with a toddler →
What if my kid is a teenager?
Then they yell back, and it can turn into a fight about everything. The same ideas hold, plus a few that are about teenagers. How to stop fighting with your teenager →
More guides for dads
- How to apologize to your kid after yellingWhat to say, when to say it, and the one word that undoes it.
- Too stressed when you get homeYour family reads your mood before you say a word. What to do at the door.
- When you hear your father's voiceRaised by a yeller? What you picked up, and how a habit changes as it's handed down.