If you have ever shouted at your child, you need to know this

1 day ago
6 min read

When We Lose Our Calm

You feel your blood pressure rising.

The lava within you begins to bubble, slowly at first and then more intensely. The tension gathers somewhere deep in your chest and shoulders, and you tell yourself—again—the same promise you have made countless times before: Stay calm. Don’t lose it.

But then, in a split second, it happens.

You lose it.

Perhaps it was the whining that had been echoing through the room for the past ten minutes. Perhaps it was the high-pitched crying that pierced through your already tired mind. Or perhaps it was the simple, maddening feeling that your requests were falling on completely deaf ears.

Your child did not respond when you asked the first time. Or the fifth time. Or the fifteenth time.

And suddenly your voice is louder than you intended. Sharper than you hoped.

You shouted.

...and almost immediately afterwards, regretted it.

Many parents recognise this moment. The sharpness of the voice. The flash of anger. And the quiet wave of guilt that follows right behind it.

But what many parents do not realise is that in those moments something very real is happening inside the brain and body.

When the Brain Thinks You Are Under Threat

In the seconds leading up to an outburst, the body shifts into a state of alarm.

Your heart rate accelerates. Your breathing becomes shallow. Your muscles tighten in preparation for action. Blood is redirected toward the core organs needed for survival.

Your nervous system has entered defence mode.

Deep within the brain sits a small structure called the amygdala. Its task is simple but vital: it constantly scans the environment for potential threats. When it detects something that feels dangerous or overwhelming, it activates the body’s ancient survival response—fight, flight, or freeze.

For our ancestors, this system was essential. It prepared them to run from predators or defend themselves against attack.

The challenge is that the brain does not distinguish particularly well between physical danger and emotional overwhelm.

When we are exhausted, overstimulated, or under pressure, our nervous system may interpret a screaming toddler, persistent whining, or defiant behaviour as a threat to our sense of control.

The rational and reflective part of the brain—the prefrontal cortex—momentarily loses its influence. The emotional brain takes over.

In that moment, your nervous system reacts as if you are facing danger.

Except the “danger” might be your three-month-old baby, your three-year-old toddler, or your six-year-old child.

Written down, this sounds almost comical. Yet biologically it makes perfect sense. The brain is simply trying to protect you.

Even Conscious Parents Get Triggered

Many parents imagine that if they only understand child development well enough, they will always remain calm. They picture the knowledgeable parent as endlessly patient, endlessly grounded. You know: the embodiment of Yoda himself.

But knowledge alone does not remove our humanity.

You may have studied early childhood education. You may have read every parenting book available. You may practice mindfulness, meditation, or yoga.

And still, once in a while, something will reach your inner Yoda.

Parenting places adults in an environment of constant emotional intensity. Sleep deprivation, sensory overload, competing responsibilities, and the deep emotional investment we have in our children create the perfect conditions for our nervous system to become dysregulated.

The goal of conscious parenting is therefore not perfection.

The goal is repair.

Why Children Do Not Need Perfect Parents

The British pediatrician and psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott introduced the idea of the “good enough parent.” His insight was both radical and reassuring: children do not require flawless caregivers in order to develop securely.

What they need are parents who respond well enough most of the time and who return to repair the relationship when things go wrong.

These moments of rupture and repair are not failures of parenting. In many ways, they are essential experiences through which children learn how relationships actually function.

Through them, children discover that conflict does not mean abandonment. They learn that mistakes can be acknowledged. They experience that emotions—even big and messy ones—can be repaired.

In other words, they learn resilience within relationship.

Awareness: The First Step Toward Change

The moment you notice that you have reacted in a way you wish you had not, something important has already happened.

You have become aware.

Awareness interrupts automatic behaviour and creates the possibility of choice.

Author James Clear describes this process in his book Atomic Habits. He explains that habits begin to change the moment we shine a light on them.

When a behaviour moves from unconscious reaction into conscious awareness, we gain the ability to reshape it over time.

Parenting reactions work in the same way. Each moment of awareness creates space between the trigger and the response.

And within that space lies the possibility of something different.

“Name It to Tame It”: Helping the Brain Regulate

One of the most powerful tools in emotional regulation is surprisingly simple: putting feelings into words.

Psychiatrist and neuroscientist Daniel J. Siegel often describes this principle with the phrase “name it to tame it,” a concept he explores in his work on brain development, including the book The Whole-Brain Child.

When strong emotions arise, the emotional parts of the brain—particularly the amygdala and limbic system—become highly active. The thinking part of the brain, the prefrontal cortex, temporarily loses its influence.

But when we put feelings into words, something remarkable happens. Language activates the prefrontal cortex and begins to reconnect the thinking brain with the emotional brain.

In other words, naming the feeling helps calm the emotional storm.

This principle works for children, but it also works for adults.

When you say to your child, “I felt really frustrated just now,” you are not only explaining your behaviour. You are modelling how emotions can be recognised and regulated.

You are demonstrating that feelings can be named instead of acted out.

Brain Integration and Emotional Maturity

Siegel often describes healthy brain development as a process of integration. Integration occurs when different parts of the brain communicate effectively with one another.

Young children are not born with fully integrated brains. Their emotional centres develop earlier than the regions responsible for executive function: impulse control, planning, and emotional regulation.

This is why toddlers experience emotions so intensely. Their feelings are powerful, but the neurological systems that help manage those feelings are still under construction.

Through consistent interactions with caring adults, children gradually build stronger connections between these parts of the brain. Over time, they learn to pause, reflect, and regulate.

Every moment in which a parent helps a child understand and name emotions strengthens these neural pathways.

And interestingly, the same process occurs for parents. Each time we pause, reflect, and repair, we are also strengthening our own brain’s capacity for regulation.

Parent and child grow together.

Returning to Connection

Just recently, I experienced one of these moments myself.

My requests were falling on deaf ears and my to-do list seemed endless. Time was slipping away, and the priorities swirling through my mind did not include a whining toddler and a moody baby.

Eventually, I snapped.

My voice rose sharply, and regret followed almost immediately.

The crying escalated, and suddenly I realised something important. There was no version of the next ten minutes in which I was going to meet the expectations I had set for myself.

So I made a different choice.

I lowered myself onto the floor. I apologised to my toddler and wrapped my arms around him. I brought the baby close and joined them in their world instead of insisting they enter mine.

For the next fifteen minutes we were vrooming toy cars across the carpet and flying airplanes through the living room.

Slowly, the tension dissolved, and I realised even more so:

Children do not calm themselves in isolation.

They borrow calm from the nervous systems of the adults who care for them.

Moving Forward Without Guilt

Over time, many parents come to an important realisation.

Some days will feel calm and harmonious. Patience flows easily, and our responses feel wise and measured.

Other days will be messier. Sleep deprivation, time pressure, and emotional strain make calm harder to sustain.

On those days, things may unfold in ways we wish they had not.

What matters most is not whether we make mistakes, but what we do afterwards. When we notice the moment, repair the rupture, and return to connection, we show our children something far more valuable than perfection.

We show them what it means to be human.

And tomorrow, when parenting tests us once again, we may find that we pause a little sooner, soften a little faster, and recover a little more quickly.

Not every time.

But often enough.

And sometimes, just for a moment, we may even feel a little bit like Yoda.

Here's to raising smarter, more confident & resilient children - and more often than not, it starts with us.