The Perimenopause Husband
Perimenopause Shouting at Kids: In Our House It Was a Tone
Shoes.
That's what it was over. Shoes left where shoes always got left, by kids who'd left them there a thousand times. On a normal week it would barely have registered. That day it landed like something much bigger, and her voice went up.
I'll be straight about the word in the title. It wasn't shouting, not in our house. It was a tone. Higher than normal, and different enough that everybody in the room stopped. The house wasn't used to it.
Then she saw their faces.
It was over in ten seconds. What came after it sat on her for the rest of the day.
Why does perimenopause make her snap at the kids?
The same reason it makes her snap at me. Her system was running hot, and whatever was in front of her in that moment became the thing it landed on. Me asking about the washing. A cup on the bench. Shoes.
It's a hormonal, biological change, and it doesn't check who's in the room first. The kids just happen to be in the room a lot.
Here's the part that matters for a dad. On my list of what perimenopause looked like in our house, snapping at the people she loves most is on it. But right beside it is the next line. Feeling guilty afterwards, and you can see the guilt on her. That second line is the one the kids don't see and you do.
If it's constant, if it's frightening her, if anything else comes with it, see a doctor or a specialist in this field. Go with her, if she wants you there.
What did I get wrong?
I went along with the room.
The kids would look at me after she'd gone off, and I'd give them a look back. Not words. Just a look that said, yeah, I know. I thought I was keeping the peace. I was quietly agreeing that mum was the problem, in front of her, in her own kitchen.
That one did real damage over time, and it has its own post. This one is about the ten seconds after the tone drops.
What is she carrying after it?
More than the kids are.
They've copped a spray over shoes and they'll be over it by dinner. She's standing there having just been the person she never wanted to be, in front of the people she least wanted to see it. She knows it wasn't about the shoes. She knows it wasn't fair. And she knows she couldn't stop it, which is the worst part, because it means it could happen again tomorrow.
Afterwards she'd say something close to this. I don't like being like this. I don't know why things get to me so much when they shouldn't.
That's not a line you answer with it's fine. It isn't fine, she knows it isn't, and telling her it is just tells her you weren't listening.
What do I say when she's just gone off at the kids?
Here's one of the tools. There are plenty.
Take the kids off her, out loud, and give her the next hour.
In plain words, the way you'd actually say it. No worries, I've got the kids. I've got the rest of the afternoon sorted. Go and watch your series. In our house that last line is exactly what I say, because that's what she'd pick.
Not a verdict on what just happened. Not a debrief. Not a quiet word to the kids about mum having a bad day while she's still in earshot.
Then do it. Homework at the bench with you. The lift to training is yours. Whatever they wanted from her in the next hour, it comes to you instead. She gets that hour somewhere that isn't the kitchen, without having to ask for it and without a conversation about why.
One more line, and it depends on the weather. I'll come and get you if I need you for anything. If she's coming out of Fog, one of the five weather patterns we use in our house, the days she's there but nothing lands, and you can see it clearing, you can add that. On a Storm Warning day, leave it off. She needs to know it's covered, full stop.
The guilt doesn't go away because you said it. But she's not carrying it alone, and she's not carrying the kids on top of it.
What I say to her later, once the day has settled, and what I eventually said to the kids about all of it, is in the book. The chapters are called When She's Annoyed at Everything and Bringing the Family In.
Should the kids know what's going on?
Yes. At a level that suits their age, and not from you in the heat of it.
That conversation changed our house more than almost anything else I did. But it's a Sunshine day job, one of the five weather patterns we use in our house, the days she's herself. Not a Storm Warning one. The signs that go unnoticed are the ones the kids pick up on first, and they deserve a straight answer about them.
Does it stop?
The tone still comes, less often. Not never. Perimenopause doesn't hand her a timetable.
What stopped in our house was the second half of it. The hour of guilt afterwards with nobody beside her. That part I could do something about, and it took one sentence and an afternoon.
Start With the Weather
The Weather Report is the two-page guide to reading these days: telling a storm warning from an overcast day from a fog day, and knowing the one thing to do in each. Free, on your phone in thirty seconds.