Is there anything worse than sitting in church and hearing a beautiful talk on family happiness that includes some prophetic quote about how you should never, ever have to raise your voice to your children or spouse for any reason whatsoever, only to realize in that moment that you just might be screaming your way to Hell?

I found myself skimming through a book in the store the other day - Scream Free Parenting. Intimidating title, right?  Sounds like a load of horse muffins.

On Friday we needed to leave the house to meet Aaron. The boys were scattered around downstairs engaged in a number of different time consuming, and multiple piece projects.

“Kids!” I called, “We need to leave in ten minutes, I want you both to get shoes on RIGHT NOW please! Thank you! I love you!”

Setting the timer on my phone for ten minutes, I pulled on boots and checked to make sure I had my jewlery and watch before leaving my bedroom.  Moving to the kitchen I gathered odds and ends and placed on the washer by the door, so as to not forget them.

I looked at my timer. Three minutes and not a single stir from the nether reaches of my home.

I headed downstairs to the family room and looked in on my kids. “Jackson, Johnny, seven minutes before we go. Please get your shoes and coats on right now, we have to leave!” I headed up flipping off lights along the way then quickly fixed my lipstick and grabbed a coat.

Timer check. Five minutes to go and they hadn’t moved an inch. That’s okay, I told myself, there is still plenty of time for them to get shoes on and get in the car if they come down right now.

“You guys, I’m serious. We have to leave now, please grab your shoes, I’m heading out to the car. Hurry!”

I headed out to the garage throwing the keys in the egnition and checking for my purse. Taking the stairs two at a time I entered the kitchen and looked at my phone: two minutes to departure.

There wasn’t a kid in sight. I looked around at the random shoes and coats strewn about the entry way, lazily waiting for me to do something about them already. How many times had I asked my kids to put their shoes in their room or hang up their backpacks? How many times did a woman have to kindly speak to her children before they actually listened?

And before I knew what was happening Nice Mom was replaced with Now I’m Going To Yell My Head off Until I Get a Little Respect Around Here Mom. And so the thunder storm began.

By the time I’d dragged my kids from their veritable projects and verbally forced them up the stairs and into shoes I was sweating.

“Gosh Mom,” Jackson said, “You don’t have to yell at us! All you have to do is ask!!”

“Yeah, Mom!” Johnny said, both hands on his hips. “You don’t have to be so MEAN!”

I know many professionals who say that parents in my position just drive away and leave their kids to teach them a lesson, or they make them come without shoes and coat. Unfortunately I don’t think they would have missed me, and while the “you’re coming with or without shoes” works for some people, it’s also really annoying to take your kids out, in February, with soggy socks on their feet.

I guess maybe it’s time to buy that book and see if scream-free parenting is myth or magic.