Mom Rage to Mom Guilt: Lessons from a Disney Meltdown

And an interview with parenting support expert Christina Furnival!

The cookie that launched the Grand Battle

I was crouching in the middle of EPCOT in 85-degree heat, staring in the eyes of a toddler who was about to set me over the edge. We had skipped breakfast that morning (big parenting mistake, huge) but had since offered her all her favorite food groups—yogurt, bananas, granola bars—that she had rejected one by one, for reasons no other than them being the incorrect size, texture, and shade of beige. Instead, she had dragged us to a small Norwegian bake shop next to the Frozen ride, where she had requested a chocolate chip cookie the size of her 90^th percentile head. In a moment of weakness, we had surrendered, making her promise that she would only have a small piece. An hour later, she was demanding that we give her the bag so that she could consume the remainder of the cookie for lunch.

A rush of anger surged through my body, bolstered by heat and discomfort and hormones. I tried to reason with her, which she demonstratively ignored. I then resorted to hissing out empty threats in my “scary tone”, informing her that I was going to throw out the cookie, take her home immediately, and never bring her anywhere again for the rest of her life. She continued screaming. My willpower slowly disintegrating, I told her she could have a small piece of the cookie, after which I would throw the rest of it out. Upon seeing me pull out the white paper bag, she lunged for it like a little werewolf, tore it out of my hands, and clutched it to her body like it was a safety raft in the middle of the Atlantic. As I attempted to wrestle it out of her hands while simultaneously spewing lava in her ear, I suddenly understood why, in my own childhood, leather belts had been considered a viable parenting aid, and “shlepat po pope” (spanking) had been as common a tactic as gentle parenting is today. The only savior was that we were in public and with friends, so I willed myself to calm down, handed the terrorist over to her father, and walked away.

Five minutes later, she collapsed into a puddle of sadness, clearly confused about her desire for the cookie and her feelings in general, and began asking for me. Could I hold her, could I hug her, could I carry her through the park? As she buried her tear-streaked face in my hair, a mix of embarrassment and mom guilt set in. We were in Disney World, where we had gone for her, and I didn’t have the self-control to refrain from exploding? Why couldn’t I just let her have the damn cookie? Why was I such a loose cannon, and how much would I mess up her—and our relationship—for the future?

This clearly wasn’t the first time this had happened. Ever since my daughter had transitioned from a silly, rowdy toddler to an opinionated, stubborn and, at times, completely illogical preschooler, I’ve found myself challenged on a regular basis. It feels as though each day, a new stress test is thrown my way, whether it’s in the form of her refusing to take her cold medicine, or leave the birthday party, or simply close her eyes at 9:30pm, when most of her classmates are already sound asleep. In each situation, a number of different factors—sleep, mood, general life satisfaction—determine whether I keep my cool or explode, losing my sh*t to the point where I then feel like the worst mother in the world. It doesn’t help that my daughter happens to be downright obsessed with me in a way that has her crawling into my arms after each tantrum, hiccuping and asking for me to comfort her. Every time Dave jokingly says, “Mama walks on water,” I instantly see Sasha at age sixteen, traumatized from a lifetime of being yelled at, rejecting me as a confidante and friend. What happens next is a weepy scene in which I apologize for screaming and she tells me she will listen to me next time, a so-called “repair” that does very little to subdue the gut-wrenching feeling inside.

I acknowledge with my logical brain that I’m not the only one struggling with this, and that the term “mom rage” was coined for a reasons. And yet, I always assume that the other women experiencing these outbursts have a lot more on their plate – multiple kids, corporate jobs, husbands who expect home-cooked meals every single day. Given that I have a fairly friction-free life with a set of built-in babysitters-slash-chefs (i.e. grandparents) living next door, I should be blissfully thriving in motherhood. Instead, I find myself crying quietly at 9 p.m., guilt-ridden over yelling at a small child who will fall asleep feeling hurt by her mother.

So, where do we go from here? For once, I feel incapable of arriving at an answer through my own reflections—after all, they haven’t been much help in this area before. That’s why I reached out to mental health therapist and parenting support expert Christina Furnival, armed with a set of (slightly unhinged) questions designed to ease my sense of guilt. And ease it she did!

MK: Hi Christina! I feel as if I’ve read all the gentle parenting literature ever written, and yet there are days when I’m completely incapable of implementing any of it and resort to screaming. What’s wrong with me?! 

CF: Absolutely nothing is wrong with you. And I totally get you and can find myself in the same situation, which feels really awful when our initial intentions were to nurture and support our children. Gentle parenting as it is often done, is gentle to the child, but in all honesty, really rough on the parent. The idea of treating our children as humans, respecting their autonomy and their needs, and allowing them space to have and express their emotions is wonderful. But it is often at the expense of our own wellbeing and stability. Full force gentle parenting expects us parents to be rather robotic, avoidant of our own emotion and needs and natural responses to the challenges of parenting, and that is just not realistic. We can hold it all together (our own emotions and self-regulation, our children's emotions, our role as co-regulators for them, and all of our daily life stressors and invisible work tasks) for only so long before we combust. If we hope to not explode after holding it all in, then we need to not stuff down our feelings in the first place. We need to work to acknowledge and process our own experience instead of burying it in an attempt to be "gentle" and calm. True balanced gentle parenting is where the parent lovingly and firmly sets and upholds boundaries, where affection and care is high, and so are expectations of the children, where the parent doesn't play doormat to the child. 

MK: We all know we have to meditate, do breathing exercises and work with therapists to control our anger. But not everybody has the ability to do that. What are some effective shortcuts to controlling our temper towards our children? 

CF: Anger is an emotion that we feel when we are feeling a more vulnerable emotion underneath, which shields us from the heavier, more personal emotion, and gives us a false sense of control and power. All of us would benefit from looking at what's beneath our anger in order to identify our real thoughts and feelings, from which we can then brainstorm the solutions. If the deeper feeling is insecurity in your authority as a parent, reading books on boundary-setting and positive discipline may help. If the deeper feeling is overwhelm or burnout, tapping into your support system and prioritizing what's worth your focus as a person and parent may help. It's beneficial, too, to have some key mantras in your back pocket. Ones I try to use are "this is not an emergency" and "pause and take a breath" to help put space between whatever is happening and however I respond. I also really like "connection before correction", so that I can focus on who my children are and nourish our relationship first and foremost, instead of being so corrective and leaning heavier into shaping them into the image of whoever I think they should be. 

MK: How does raising your voice and disciplining children affect them in the short and long term? Is there a certain amount that is “normal” or is fully eliminating it the goal? 

CF: What's important here is to note that yelling is not disciplining. At the very least it is an ineffective attempt at disciplining. The word discipline stems from the word meaning to teach or instruct, and we will not effectively accomplish that by yelling. If we find ourselves yelling, we need to be honest with ourselves by owning that how we feel and act (i.e. yell) is our own response to a situation and often happens when we find ourselves maxed out or really don't know what else to do. But it doesn't help our children learn. When we yell in an attempt to teach or discipline, our kids' brains go into survival mode, and the logic and reasoning part of their brain that we are trying to access goes offline.

That said, it is human to lose it sometimes and as much as we may try to not lose it as parents, it's impossible not to from time to time. Are we traumatizing our kids by occasionally yelling? No. Should we yell all the time? No. But is it okay for our kids to see that we are human, that we sometimes lose it, and that sometimes it happens in response to our interaction with them? Yes. While our children are not responsible for our own thoughts and feelings and responses, it is good for them to learn that what they do does impact others. This is not a pro-yell argument, but I hope it provides nuance to say that we have reactions to frustrations and challenges with our kids, and it's okay that our kids experience that sometimes. Should we be yelling at them 24/7? No. Should we shield them from seeing us as human with a full range of emotions and expressions? No. 

MK: What are the best steps towards repair? Should we apologize, explain the reason behind losing our temper, etc? 

CF: On the occasions that we do lose control and yell, we should absolutely apologize. We can express remorse and explain how we hope to handle similar challenges differently, as well as remind our children that they are loved, even when we haven't acted lovingly. And then we need to actually take steps to improve our responses in the future.

Learn more about Christina’s practice and reach out to her via ChristinaFurnival.com!