Too tired to be patient with your kids?
By bedtime there's nothing left. Small things set you off, and you know it's the tiredness talking, but it comes out anyway.
What running on empty looks like, by age
Babies and toddlers
The tiredness is literal: broken nights, five a.m. starts, no break in between. Patience is gone by late afternoon, and a toddler's “no” at bath time feels like the last straw. With a new baby in the house, everyone is short on sleep at once, and nobody has spare patience to lend. Tips for first-time dads →
Kids in school
It's the evening crunch: dinner, homework, practice, bath, bed, all packed into the hours when you have least left. They have energy to burn just as yours runs out, and the questions keep coming. You end up saying “not now” to everything, including the things you'd like to say yes to.
Teens
Teenagers keep later hours than you. The conversation they want often starts at ten at night, just as you're done for the day. It's easy to wave it off, and it may be the only time that week they'd have talked.
Why tiredness eats patience first
Patience takes effort. Staying calm, staying curious, staying in the room when you'd rather leave: all of it costs something, and when you're worn out there's less to spend. You don't decide to be short. Hunger, a bad night and a long day add up, and the bill comes due around dinner. That isn't a character flaw. It's a reason to plan around the hours you already know will be hard. How to stay calm with a toddler →
Small things to try this week
- Move one hard thing out of the worst hour. If homework blows up at half past seven, try it before dinner. If bath is the battle, do it earlier, or every other night. Fewer jobs in your worst hour means fewer chances to snap.
- Eat before you walk in. It sounds too small to matter. But hungry and tired together make for a short fuse, and a snack in the car costs nothing.
- Trade for a real break. If there's another adult at home, swap one evening job so each of you gets twenty minutes alone, out of earshot, twice this week. If you're on your own, lower the bar for that hour instead. Cereal for dinner is allowed.
When you snap anyway
You'll be short with them when you're running on fumes. When it happens, go back and say it plainly: you were short with them, and that wasn't fair. Leave the tiredness out of the apology; said there, it can sound like an excuse. Then do the next small thing, like finishing the story or tucking them in. The next day, look at what made that hour harder than it needed to be, and change one piece of it.
If rest doesn't help, or the tiredness comes with feeling low most days, see a doctor. It can be more than tired, for dads as well as moms.
First, name your low hour: the time of day you're most likely to snap. Then give your kid ten minutes where they lead, before that hour or inside it, whichever you can manage. With a little one, get on the floor and be whatever the game needs: the customer, the monster, the bridge the cars drive over. With an older kid, ask them to show you something they're into (a game, a video, a song, a drawing). Questions are fine if they want them; skip the advice and the critique. Ten minutes. Then you're done.
That's day 2 of the program, word for word.
Relevant exercises in the program
Word for word, with their real day numbers: three short words to say before you answer, and practicing on small annoyances when nothing big is at stake.
Today, name it at least three times, in three words or fewer, before you answer your kid. There's the heat. Running on empty. There's the lock. Then deal with whatever's in front of you. Once, say it out loud in kid-sized words. With a little one: when the milk goes over or bedtime starts slipping, "Daddy's getting grumpy. I'm going to take a breath." Then the paper towels, or the next step of bedtime. With an older kid: when the eye-roll lands or the homework fight starts, "I'm getting frustrated. Give me a minute." Then come back and finish the conversation.
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.
Want one thing like this to try every day?
The Better Father is eight weeks, about ten minutes a day: a short read in the morning, one thing to try with your kids, one line in a private log before bed. Four versions by your kid's age. $149 once, no subscription. What's inside
Full refund within 14 days of buying. Just email us. You don't have to explain or show your log.
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Guides for this one
- Losing your temper with a toddlerTantrums, the shoes at the door, the low hour, and what to say instead of yelling.
- First-time dad: the first yearBefore the birth, the first two weeks, the long nights, back to work, and the move to crawling.
Something else is harder right now? Take the 1-minute quiz.
This page describes a common problem, not you. It doesn't diagnose anything.