A Gift for Mom! 🤍

Dear Kids, I’m Sorry I Yelled But I’m Just So Tired

6 Minute Read

By Amber Kruse

Mom with her hand on her forehead tired — christinarosepix/Shutterstock.com

Dear kids,

I’m sorry I yelled. But in my defense, ya’ll got me so stressed it’s the only outlet I have before I spontaneously combust from holding it all in.

I know you’re tired and cranky. I am, too.

So when I ask you to pick up your Hot Wheels for the 76th time and you continue to dance around clucking like a chicken, I lose my crap. Then when you melt into a puddle of snot because I yelled, I can only step over you and your Hot Wheels and move on to the next mess cause momma ain’t got time for this.

I have daycare pickup, cheer carpool, football carpool, carpool for carpools. You want a last-minute ride to a friend’s house? Sure, load up the crew, what’s another trip. You forgot you needed supplies for a project due tomorrow? Kroger, here we come. Last-minute practice changes? Why not, sounds great.

I’ve got lunches to pack that I’ll throw most of away after school tomorrow. I have 10 minutes of homework that will surely take four hours. I have dinner to cook that you will refuse to even try because it has green stuff in it, which will then be followed by a gourmet five-course meal of your choosing consisting of Easy Mac, a hot dog, chicken nuggets, yogurt, and cereal of which you’ll consume a cumulative 6.5 bites before it joins the majority of your packed lunch in the trash.

I have hours of laundry to fold and put away so you can yank it all out of your drawer tomorrow and throw it all over your room while looking for the stained, too small shirt you’ll insist on wearing to make sure everyone thinks your mom never does laundry or buys you new clothes. Then when I yell at you to clean your messy room, you will pick up those clean clothes from your floor and toss them right back into the dirty clothes hamper. Hence, the never-ending laundry and my need to yell. Again.

I have 12 blankets to pick up and fold from all corners of this house. Not because it’s freezing in here but because your favorite hobby is getting every blanket out and dragging it through the house and dropping it wherever you feel the urge before going back for the next one.

RELATED: Why Tired Moms Stay Up Late

I have costumes to pick up from every surface because you want to be Captain Underpants when you get home from preschool, you have to eat dinner as a Ninja Turtle, you insist on putting on your football uniform to play imaginary tackle football with yourself, then gear up in your police uniform to head out to patrol the backyard in your police vehicle.

The yard. Oh, the yard. It’s a never-ending job picking up construction vehicles and returning them to the sandbox. Gathering random socks from around the trampoline. Rounding up 43 basketballs, footballs, and kickballs. Watering my dead plants out of principle, not that I actually think they have a chance of ever coming back to life.

I have sand to sweep from the floors and scrub from the bathtub after the ring left from bathing dirty little boys. There’s urine to mop up around the toilets—because again, boys.

I have permission slips to sign, money to be handed over, fundraisers to solicit.

There’s kind of a lot going on.

So, at the end of the day when I ask you to pick up your Hot Wheels, please do not cluck at me. Just pick up the darn cars and put them away. Because believe it or not, I don’t like to yell. It does not spark joy within me. It leaves a huge weight of mom guilt on my shoulders that never really goes away. It may shift from my shoulders to my mind at night, so I have plenty of things to overthink and worry about as I lie in bed instead of resting my overly tired mind. It infringes on my allotted six hours of sleep I so desperately need before waking up to do this all over again. By morning, it will shift back to my shoulders for me to carry around all day again because no amount of worrying and overthinking seems to ever make it go away.

RELATED: A Mother’s Mind Never Rests Because We Carry the Mental Load

I’m sorry I yell. I really am. I will try harder tomorrow but no promises can be made. I know you’ll be super shocked to hear this, but I’m not a perfect mom. It’s hard to tell from the forgotten show-and-tell days and the unsuccessful, Pinterest-worthy school projects—but it’s the truth.

I try my best, I really do. But many times, my best doesn’t feel good enough. Not because you make me feel that way, but because I feel nothing will ever be good enough for the perfectly imperfect little humans your dad and I have created. I will forever want to do more. To be more.

But as much as I yell AT you sometimes, remember I’m yelling FOR you most times. Yelling on the sidelines, proud of that tackle. Yelling encouragement when you try out for the sport you’re not the best at but willing to try anyway. Yelling I’m proud of you for receiving the best grades you’re capable of achieving. Yelling you’re beautiful, you’re smart, you’re kind because that’s what you need to hear the most. Those yells by far outweigh the frustrated, tired, cranky yells.

So, at the end of the day, please don’t remember the times I yelled.

Please remember the carpool karaoke of “Old Town Road” on repeat because that’s your favorite song—and because you were forced to participate in two hours of carpool because your siblings have places to be. Please remember your belly being full, your clothes that smell like Tide, and the overflowing bottomless toy box. Please remember me running through the house as you chase me with a sword and clapping for you as you perform imaginary tackles on the living room carpet in your football gear. Please remember the silly songs we make up and sing as we scrub the dirt from behind your ears and sand from your hair.

Most of all, remember I love you.

I’m proudly yelling “I LOVE YOU!”

Please, just remember that yell.

Love,
Mom

Originally published on the author’s blog

Parenting is a wild ride, but the strategies in Mindful Parenting in a Chaotic World have made it a little smoother for us. (And YAY! It’s on Audible as well for those of us who don’t have time to sit and read.)

Recommendations in this post contain affiliate links. Her View From Home may receive a small commission if you choose to purchase.

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Amber Kruse

Amber is a professional Accounting Manager by day and a train wreck mother by night. She is a wife and mother to four children ages 5-15. She gets through life on copious amounts of coffee, lots of humor, wine by the box and tons of laughter usually brought on by her kids’ shenanigans. You can view her Facebook page at The Motley Kru by Amber Kruse.

These Moms on the Sidelines Became My People

In: Motherhood

Moms with arms around each other watching baseball

Spending hours on end on a ballfield on Mother’s Day may not sound ideal to most, but the ones who get it know that it’s about so much more than watching young kids play ball. It’s about the instant bonds you make with families who end up becoming like your own family. It’s being surrounded by people who cheer for your kid louder than you do yourself. It’s about being lucky enough to have a pack of moms who will care for your child in your absence and send you pics and videos of what you are missing when you...

Keep Reading

I Wanted Experts to Fix My Child with ADHD. Instead, They Changed Me.

In: Motherhood

Little boy sitting at table talking to adult

I thought the experts were going to fix my child. I didn’t say that out loud. But it was there…quiet, desperate, sitting underneath every question I asked. If I just found the right strategy… If I just understood ADHD well enough… If I just listened hard enough… Maybe the meltdowns would stop. Maybe the chaos would settle. Maybe I would finally feel like I knew what I was doing. So I started asking questions. Over the past year, I’ve had the opportunity to interview ADHD experts (clinicians, researchers, specialists) through my podcast. And I showed up to every conversation like...

Keep Reading

Parenting a Child with a Disability Is Holy Ground

In: Motherhood

Some moments in motherhood stay with you. First steps. Preschool graduation. A first dance recital. And then there are harder times. The ones that do not make it into photo albums. The moments when the world feels too big and your child feels painfully misunderstood. When you are parenting a child with a disability, those moments tend to find you more often. This day should have felt like a win. My son had just met a goal in therapy. We walked out of his OT’s office smiling, carrying a page full of lopsided circles that had never looked more perfect...

Keep Reading

I Came Home With a Baby—and Lost Myself

In: Motherhood

I don’t think people truly believe me when I say I came back from the depths of hell after having my son. Birth is often portrayed as pure bliss. The moment a mother holds her baby and instantly falls in love. Life quickly returns to normal. Even in real life, new moms can look like they’ve settled into motherhood with ease. But what no one talks about is the ugly, incredibly hard side of it. Not every mom experiences postpartum depression, anxiety, or OCD. For some, it really is bliss. But for many of us, it becomes a fight for...

Keep Reading

He Doesn’t Always Need Me Anymore and I’m Not Sure How To Feel About It

In: Motherhood

Little boy playing with toys on the floor alone

There is a moment nobody warns you about. Not the sleepless nights. Not the feeding schedules. Not the endless cycle of laundry and worry that comes with keeping a tiny human alive. Those parts everyone mentions. The part nobody mentions is the moment you realize your child has started becoming his own person. And you are standing there watching it happen, equal parts proud and completely unprepared. My son is two years old. And lately he has been leaving the room. Not in a concerning way. In a he has somewhere to be kind of way. He will be in...

Keep Reading

We Keep Calling Her Confident, But She Doesn’t Trust Herself

In: Motherhood

I remember the exact moment it hit me. I was talking to a young girl, the kind everyone praises. She was polite, well spoken, respectful. The kind of girl people point to and say, “She’s so confident.” So I asked her a question I knew would reveal more than her smile ever could: “What do you do when something doesn’t feel right?” She froze. Not in a dramatic way, but in a quiet, almost invisible way. She looked down, shifted her weight, then looked back up at me, searching my face like the answer might be written there. Because she...

Keep Reading

I Knew Something Was Wrong, But No One Listened—And It Almost Cost Me My Daughter

In: Motherhood

After the traumatic birth of my daughter, I searched for others who had experienced vasa previa, but most of what I found were support groups for stillbirth. It’s easy to understand why; vasa previa is one of the most preventable causes of stillbirth, and yet most people, including most pregnant women, have never heard of it. My daughter is almost three years old, and I still carry a complicated guilt about that: why did we get to be the lucky ones? I want to share my story—not to frighten you, but because awareness is the only thing that saves lives...

Keep Reading

I Finally Admitted I Didn’t Want To Be a SAHM Anymore

In: Motherhood

For most of my life, I believed becoming a stay-at-home mom wasn’t just a choice, it was the ultimate goal. The kind of life a “good” woman was meant to want. The kind of life that meant you were doing things right. I grew up surrounded by that message. In conservative spaces, in church circles, in subtle conversations about what a “real” mother looked like. Women who stayed home were praised. Women who didn’t were quietly questioned. I learned, without ever being directly told, that a mother’s highest purpose was to center her entire world around her children and her...

Keep Reading

I’m Not Really Sure How To Do This Teenager Thing

In: Motherhood, Teen

I was not prepared to be a mother of teenagers. Sure, I was warned by other parents about the difficult journey I was about to embark on, but I did not expect it to be this challenging. I remember these two sweet, innocent children who wanted to be with me all the time. Now they barely give me the time of day. How did we get here? Like many parents, we long to have that child who once, a long time ago, called us Mommy and Daddy and begged us to read them another story. Where are those kids I...

Keep Reading

Why Don’t We Talk About Jonah’s Mother?

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood

Praying for My Son Send a storm to stop him; Let his friends throw him out. May he drop to the deeps, But gently, please, Stubborn though he may be. If it could only take three days, How my mother’s heart would Rejoice in praise. From the hell you allow him, Let him cry to you. Is not Nineveh and mercy Exactly what he knows He needs— A mercy on enemies He fears You will concede? Please let all the shade wither If his is an angry soul; Humble him and help him follow Where you would have his purpose...

Keep Reading

My Child, I Will Fight For You

Child

My Child, I Will Fight For You

My Car May Be Messy But My Life is Beautiful

Motherhood

Dear Kids, I’m Sorry I Yelled But I’m Just So Tired

I know you’re tired and cranky. I am, too.

RELATED: Why Tired Moms Stay Up Late

There’s kind of a lot going on.

RELATED: A Mother’s Mind Never Rests Because We Carry the Mental Load

So, at the end of the day, please don’t remember the times I yelled.

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Amber Kruse

These Moms on the Sidelines Became My People

I Wanted Experts to Fix My Child with ADHD. Instead, They Changed Me.

Parenting a Child with a Disability Is Holy Ground

I Came Home With a Baby—and Lost Myself

He Doesn’t Always Need Me Anymore and I’m Not Sure How To Feel About It

We Keep Calling Her Confident, But She Doesn’t Trust Herself

I Knew Something Was Wrong, But No One Listened—And It Almost Cost Me My Daughter

I Finally Admitted I Didn’t Want To Be a SAHM Anymore

I’m Not Really Sure How To Do This Teenager Thing

Why Don’t We Talk About Jonah’s Mother?

Get It Now

So God Made a Mother

Dear Kids, I’m Sorry I Yelled But I’m Just So Tired

I know you’re tired and cranky. I am, too.

There’s kind of a lot going on.

So, at the end of the day, please don’t remember the times I yelled.

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

These Moms on the Sidelines Became My People

I Wanted Experts to Fix My Child with ADHD. Instead, They Changed Me.

Parenting a Child with a Disability Is Holy Ground

I Came Home With a Baby—and Lost Myself

He Doesn’t Always Need Me Anymore and I’m Not Sure How To Feel About It

We Keep Calling Her Confident, But She Doesn’t Trust Herself

I Knew Something Was Wrong, But No One Listened—And It Almost Cost Me My Daughter

I Finally Admitted I Didn’t Want To Be a SAHM Anymore

I’m Not Really Sure How To Do This Teenager Thing

Why Don’t We Talk About Jonah’s Mother?

Previous Post

Next Post

You May Also Like