Old Yeller?

Over the course of the past two months, my regard for single parents has grown. I used to think that I knew the real me when I became a mom, more specifically the mother of more than one child. Once I was outnumbered, I had to revise "People who don't have a kid just don't get it," to "People who only have one kid just don't get it." Once #3 came along, I tried to just shut up. That's hard for me. When the parent of one talks about how hard it is to make the time to spend with his or her child, I REALLY want to say, "Well, just imagine how hard it is with THREE!" I say it in my mind.

When we first got married, we lived above a single mom and her two young sons. Almost every day, Jason and I would roll our eyes as we heard her yelling at both of them. Jeez, we thought. Shut up, lady. I now make that woman look like a mute. I'm not kidding. Yelling doesn't work, and it only temporarily makes me feel better as a means of venting, but I keep doing it anyway. Insanity is defined as doing the same thing incessantly and expecting a different result. I yell a lot, but the only thing it yields is more yelling. Here's the thing: I don't want to yell. I want to be the calm and cool mom who deals placidly with my child who just painted his crib with poo. Really, I do. I mean, what would it achieve to yell? And there's no guilt worse than what comes after the yelling is done.

I remember being a child and thinking how strange it was when I would call a friend and she would yell at her mother or grandma on the other end of the phone. Now, when Jason calls, it's more likely that he'll hear me yelling than it is that he'll actually have a conversation with me. What can I say? My yelling has gone viral. And, no, I have not always taken this route. It used to be the job I left up to my husband, and now I realize what a really crap job that was. Now, I suppose that I could give myself an out. I mean, I am on my own a lot of the time. I'm working full time, taking care of three little ones and trying to keep a home presentable for showings. (And by the way, people who called with 40 minutes notice today, thanks for the workout. Not.) I now incant the very words I despise: "Why do I have to yell to get you to do anything?!" As one might imagine, haranguing my three year-old is not a fulfilling life goal for me. Nor is it effective.

So I sincerely want to ask anyone out there who cares to chime in: What's a mom to do? I didn't always yell, and I don't care to continue doing so, but when three little boys create a synergistic chaos at every possible turn -- and I will stress that they are three adorable and loving little boys but little shysters nonetheless (love you kids!) -- do I have any other alternative? I have maintained a career in education where yelling has never been an option -- how has it reared its ugly head in my mommyhood?

Also, a side note. Three months ago, I lost the digital camera. Somewhere. This would be why the photos I have posted are entirely from the cell phone. No idea where the phone is, though I know the last place I had it. Conducting a comprehensive search for it would require looking under the seats of our mini van, something I refuse to do on principle. The purpose of having a mini van is to contain the life that one works so hard to cover up in one's home. I would never allow for multiple Dunkin' Donuts bags to accumulate in my kitchen, but the back seat of the mini? No problemo.

Nicholas celebrated his third birthday last week. Jason took pictures on his Blackberry. I think if we had the camera, I would have had no opportunity to take a picture anyway. Living in a digital age can sometimes be a drag... I remember the days when a roll of film would take a year to finish. Now, if I don't have 50 pictures of my son's third birthday, I'm somehow deficient. So here is one taken with the cell phone at home on the actual day.

Nicholas is three. And that's so hard for me to believe. It has gone so fast. He now does his own choral reading of The Giving Tree with me each night. I read, he repeats. The other night, out of nowhere, he said, "I want some money. Can you give me some money?" I almost burst into tears, then actually did shed some tears of joy when I realized he was reciting from his favorite book. Thank goodness -- for a moment, I thought I was raising Gordon Gekko Jr.