We never plan to shout, do we? We don’t sit at the dinner table crafting a detailed plan about when to shout, how long for, and who at. It just happens—spur of the moment. We don’t always have complete control over our actions. And if it happens to you, know this: it’s normal. We all do it.
We aren’t robots programmed to react perfectly or adjust our emotional settings like the robotic crew in Interstellar. On the contrary, we’re messy, raw, and chaotic. We feel, we experience, we process. And sometimes, we overreact or respond in less-than-glamorous ways. Oh well.
But once you’ve shouted at your kids, it falls to you to calm the situation. No Mary Poppins is flying in to save the day. To bring calm to your household, you have to start with yourself.
The most common advice? Breathe.
Breathing
Regulating your breath helps to calm your nervous system. It’s sound advice:
• Breathe in deeply, then exhale slowly. Repeat several times.
• Try box breathing: imagine a box. Inhale for four counts (up one side of the box), hold your breath for four counts (across the top), exhale for four counts (down the other side), and hold again for four counts (completing the box).
• Alternate nostril breathing can help too: close one nostril, breathe in, then switch nostrils to exhale.
But what if you just can’t get your breathing under control in the heat of the moment?
Counting
Good old counting might do the trick. Count from ten to one, then back from one to ten. Experiment with counting quickly, then slowly, visualising each number in your mind. What colour is it? How big or small is it? This simple exercise shifts your focus away from the shouting incident and onto something neutral.
Brace Position
If counting and breathing don’t work, imagine you’re on a plane making an emergency landing. Assume the brace position: place your head on your lap and let it rest slightly below your knees. This not only redirects your attention but also mimics a posture often used to regulate panic attacks. Moving your body physically like this can help reset your nervous system.
Jumping Jacks
A few jumping jacks might do wonders. Exercise is a powerful mood-lifter, flooding your body with feel-good hormones that help you reset. Yes, you might look silly, but who cares? Your kids might even start laughing or join in, instantly defusing the tension. I’ve tried it myself—works every time.
Hug Yourself
Give yourself a bear hug. Pat your shoulders, squeeze your arms, and gently rock from side to side. Stroking your arms or shoulders can have a calming effect. Hugs—even from yourself—release oxytocin, a hormone that helps us feel soothed and connected.
Lion Roar
Try a lion roar, or practise the yoga pose “lion’s breath.” Bend your elbows, lift your arms halfway, open your mouth wide, and let out the fiercest roar. Make a scary face, relax your jaw, and let it out! It’s a brilliant combination of movement and vocal expression. Don’t let embarrassment hold you back—kids find it hilarious, and it helps release pent-up frustration.
Downward Dog
Speaking of yoga, I can’t leave out “downward dog” (or my playful twist on the downward dog pose called downwards mum). Put your hands on the floor, bend your knees if needed, and let your head hang loose between your arms, bottom up. Breathe deeply and exhale slowly. By inverting your body like this, you give your nervous system a chance to reset.
Build Your Own Toolkit
There are countless ways to calm yourself after shouting at your kids. Stroking something soft and fluffy, humming or singing, massaging your earlobes, dancing or jumping, etc. If none of these work for you, think about what’s helped you in similar situations in the past and jot it down. Start your own collection of calming techniques—you’ll never regret having it. After all, life throws plenty of moments where quick calm is a superpower.
If might also help you visualise calming down after shouting at your kids by reading this short story that I wrote to help me process my emotions after an incident with my own children:
Fluffy Therapist
She didn’t want to shout, but her two-year-old threw his dinner on the floor, claiming the plate was the wrong colour and the seven-year-old found it so funny that he spilt his drink onto his food. Now the little one was in tears, and the big one in stitches. Total chaos as usual.
The day had started like any other weekday. School and childminder drop-offs—nothing special, only lost shoes, missing school bags, and a sudden demand to use the loo as we were about to walk out the door.
The commute was a bit above average - sweaty rushing bodies, loudly bickering schoolchildren, and a 20-minute delay, made it memorable.
The office was fine, apart from the part where her boss had asked for a “quick chat in her office”. It was about the importance of time keeping and other office policies. Then the daily workload went berserk and started multiplying like spring rabbits.
Upon the return home, the dishwasher threw in the towel and spewed the dishes out still unwashed. All the cutlery and pans had to be salvaged by hand to guarantee any food on plates. Just a typical weekday, really.
And then—boom, splash! Followed by a loud shrieking voice: “I wanted a yellow plate!” Then everything went red in front of Olive’s eyes.
“Oscar! No! Stop it! How many times have I asked you not to throw your food on the floor?” Olive shouted at the top of her voice. “And Robert! Stop laughing! It was not funny!” She snatched a toy her eldest was holding and threw it on the floor. The double floodgates of tears opened.
Immediately, guilt engulfed her, making it difficult to breathe and think. She felt like she’d been nominated for the “Worst Mum Ever” award.
Oscar howled louder, smearing tears and snot over the kitchen tablecloth. Robbie tried to cry louder than his brother, but his voice faltered, and he gave up, with a few shouting arguments. Olive’s heart was pounding like a wild animal in a cage. She felt helpless and trapped. Being home alone meant no one was coming to help, to give her a little breather.
She remembered with sudden tenderness how easy everything had felt last month when her parents were visiting. She’d be happy to put up with mum’s constant nagging about the state of her house, if only she could deal with the boys right now.
“Breathe,” Olive told herself, but like a defiant toddler, her brain refused to comply. It continued to flutter and panic, ignoring her attempts to bring it to order.
Tears threatened to burst at any moment. She held them in by scrunching her face and pinching her nose. The cacophony of sounds and emotions—guilt, despair, frustration—was deafening. Then she heard very gentle yet persistent,
“Meow.”
The sound startled her. It must have been the neighbour’s cat, but she couldn’t see it anywhere. Then she noticed Robbie’s toy cat spread across the floor. It had a piece of bread stuck to its side.
She grabbed Robbie’s squishy kitty without thinking, removed the crust and began to stroke it. Slide up, slide down, slide up, slide down—her hand moved rhythmically. It felt soft and fluffy. She remembered gifting it to Robbie when he turned one. All sort of memories and emotions flooded Olive’s head making her feel warm and fuzzy inside. After a while, she noticed her heartbeat began to slow, and the noise in her head, though still present, wasn’t as sharp anymore.
“I’ve just had a tough day,” she murmured to no one in particular holding the kitty really tight to her chest. “It was wrong of me to shout, but I felt like I would burst otherwise. I’m okay. It happens to all of us.” The toy smelt of kids’ bath soap and childhood.
Lost in her thoughts and the soothing motion, she didn’t realise when Oscar had stopped crying and crouched next to her, his clammy hands enveloping her neck.
“I am sorry, mummy,” his quiet whisper tickled her ear.
“Oh, my darling,” Olive said, grabbing his tear-streaked face and kissing his cheek. “Mummy’s sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted. Throwing dinner wasn’t nice, but I shouldn’t have yelled.”
Oscar looked at her with wide, trusting eyes and buried his face in her hair. “I love you, mummy.” Robbie joined them and all three of them, and the fluffy kitty, had a nice long cuddle. Then they ordered pizza and watched some cartoons. Just a normal weekday.
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