Every parent has that one behavior that tests their patience to the limit—something that drives them up the wall for reasons they may not even understand. For some, it’s the habit of picking noses; for others, it could be dishonesty or constant whining. In my case, it’s the act of screaming.
I’m not referring to the joyous squeals that come from children having fun (I’m not a monster). Nor am I talking about the yells of fatigue and frustration that often erupt during grocery store trips. What I mean is the uncontrolled screaming that seems to serve no purpose—just a raw, primal sound that feels more appropriate for a horror film than a family home.
That high-pitched wail cuts through me and triggers an immediate fight-or-flight response; my instincts kick in, and I find myself scanning for a paramedic. It’s an automatic reaction for me. My kids understand that the only time they are allowed to scream is if they are in grave danger—like being chased by a stranger, encountering a wild animal, or falling into a well.
Growing up, I was not permitted to scream. I realize this has shaped my parenting style today. In my rural childhood home, screams were reserved for true emergencies, and thankfully, I never had to unleash that repressed scream for anything serious. My parents would have known immediately that I needed help, rather than thinking I was merely auditioning for a role in a horror movie.
Now, as I raise two children in the woods, where bears, mountain lions, and the occasional aggressive squirrel roam, I find it crucial that they know the importance of their screams. While I work from home and can often see and hear them, I can’t predict when a wild animal might make an unexpected appearance. I want them to enjoy their adventures but also to understand that if they scream, I will be there in a flash—so they better have a valid reason.
I’m often astonished that some parents seem unfazed by their kids’ screaming. Recently, at a park, a little girl was atop the play structure, screaming at the top of her lungs while her mother chatted with friends, seemingly oblivious. My heart raced; I couldn’t help but wonder if she was in danger. Would her mother even know?
To those parents who don’t mind the noise, I have so many questions. Is it because you believe that letting kids scream is an essential part of childhood? Do you worry that you might stifle their expression? Or have you just grown immune to it over time? Maybe I need to chill out—I get it. But the issue of screaming feels deeply rooted in my psyche, and I’m not sure I want to unravel it all.
I don’t think I’m inhibiting my kids; rather, I’m providing them a way to alert me in genuine danger, especially in our wild surroundings. My children can express themselves through howls, sing loudly, or even play their instruments until I feel a headache coming on. They can scream into a pillow if they need to vent. However, they must reserve their actual screams for moments of true peril. And I, in turn, can live without the constant adrenaline surging through my veins.
For further insights on parenting and emotional well-being, check out this resource on home insemination, an excellent guide for expectant parents. Additionally, if you’re interested in boosting fertility, this article offers valuable information on fertility.