Why Is Everyone Yelling?

Let’s paint a picture: It’s 5:03 PM. The toddler is sobbing because the banana broke in half. The 6-year-old is arguing with the 8-year-old about who actually fed the baby. You’re trying to defrost chicken that is still frozen solid despite sitting out since lunchtime, and someone just stepped on a LEGO. Probably you.

Welcome to the Witching Hour—those magical hours between late afternoon and bedtime when the wheels fall off the parenting wagon and everything becomes a crisis.

But don’t worry, fellow chaos coordinator. I’ve been through the trenches (still in them, actually), and I’ve put together a survival guide. Is it perfect? No. Will it help you avoid crying into the mac and cheese? Maybe. Let’s go.

Snacks Are Sacred

At 4:59 PM, all children will become suddenly and violently hungry. Do not attempt to argue logic. Just hand them a pre-dinner snack. Something quiet, not messy, and ideally not loaded with sugar.

Pro tip: Call it an “appetizer” and feel fancy while throwing snacker crackers in their general direction.

Turn Down the Volume... Emotionally

You don’t need to be calm. Just pretend to be calm. I’ve learned that the louder everyone else gets, the softer I speak. It’s a power move. Also, they’re so confused when you whisper-yell “PUT ON YOUR PAJAMAS RIGHT NOW” that they pause, and in that pause, you can reclaim your authority. (Or at least your kitchen.)

Have a Pre-Dinner Ritual

Light a candle. Turn on music. Declare it “quiet time” (LOL, but worth a try). Even 10 minutes of calm-ish activities like coloring, storytape listening, or sitting on the floor pretending to meditate while actually hiding snacks can set the tone.

Yes, they might fight through it, but you’ll feel like you tried—and that counts.

Dinner: Lower the Bar

Weeknight dinner is not the time to prove you're the next MasterChef. Pasta, grilled cheese, and breakfast-for-dinner are the tricks of witching hour cuisine. Bonus points if it’s finger food and they can eat it without complaining. (JK, they’ll always complain. It’s tradition.)

Repeat after me: "If at least 50% of the meal is eaten and no one throws a fork, I call it a win."

Bath Time: Let Chaos Clean Itself

Here’s the beautiful thing about bath time: it contains them. Walls, water, and bubbles. Let them splash (within reason), toss in every bath toy you own, and take five deep breaths while leaning against the sink and pretending you’re at a spa.

Just don’t sit on the toilet lid too long or you might actually fall asleep. Trust me.

The Bedtime Hustle

There are two types of bedtime routines: the ideal and the real. The ideal includes calming music, storytime, and snuggles. The real includes bribes, negotiations, and a child screaming that they’re "not even tired" while rubbing their eyes like a raccoon at dawn.

Stay strong. Keep the routine simple and predictable. Eventually, they'll sleep. Probably after asking for water 19 times.

The Moment It’s Quiet—Breathe

When the house is finally still and no one is climbing furniture, throwing LEGOs, or demanding cheese... just sit. That moment right after bedtime is sacred. It’s when you remember you’re still a person, not just a snack dispenser with Wi-Fi.

Bask in the silence. Reheat your coffee for the fifth time. You survived the witching hour.

Final Thoughts:

The 5 to 8 PM stretch is hard. It’s loud, it’s messy, and it often smells vaguely like ketchup and exhaustion. But tucked in there are the little moments—bath giggles, bedtime hugs, sleepy “I love yous”—that remind you this chaos is temporary.

So, hang in there. Pour that glass of wine, open the cookies you said were only for lunches, and know that you’re not alone. Somewhere, another mom is muttering, “Why is everyone yelling?” too.