I Got A Shoutlet & It's Helped Me Stop Yelling At My Kids (Mostly)

No one told me how much parenting was going to involve stifling screams. I thought I was ready: I had the breast pump, swaddles, stroller, Moby wrap, stacking blocks, baby monitor.

But as we waded into toddlerhood, the reality check was swift and cruel. I had to face it: I actually had no idea how to parent, as in, the active verb. I graduated into the next phase—books, podcasts, parenting workshops, mindfulness apps, therapy, and yes, medication. I was on a full-blown emotional regulation quest. I didn’t want to be a yeller. I wanted to be calm. Grounded. Patient.

And yet…I still wanted to scream. And some days, I did. I’d lie awake wondering, What is wrong with me? Why do I so often feel like I'm on the edge of completely losing it? Why can’t I stop raising my voice? Spoiler: Nothing was wrong with me. I was just burned out, overwhelmed, and—surprise!—human.

I’m always looking for new tools to keep my shit together, and I recently found one that also ticks the box of a helpful addition in my parenting toolbox, too. The Shoutlet is a small, portable voice-suppression device that reduces your decibel output by 50% or more. In simpler terms: It lets you scream your head off without actually screaming your head off. It’s designed for both adults and kids to use as a way to release tension in a safe, non-destructive way. And as ridiculous as it sounds, this little thing has been a total game-changer in our house.

The first time I pulled it out during a particularly rough moment and shoved my face into it, my kids looked at me like I’d completely lost it.

“Mom…what are you doing?” “I’m going to scream into this pillow.” “Why?” “Because I think it’ll feel good.”

What happened next turned into one of those unexpected core memories I’ll carry with me forever. Instead of the moment spiraling into chaos—me snapping, them melting down—we turned it into a game: Who can yell the quietest through the Shoutlet? Whose scream sounds the funniest? Whose scream can be heard the most through it? It diffused the tension instantly. It wasn’t about suppressing emotions, it was about redirecting them.

We all know how therapeutic a good scream can be. There’s even research backing it up, like this study on emotional expression and release. But when you're a parent, full-volume screaming into the void isn’t just frightening, it can also model the kind of emotional outbursts we’re trying to help our kids avoid.

Now, I’m not saying it’s a panacea. I still have to do all that annoying inner work and intentional approach to how I navigate the daily stresses of parenthood and life in general. But it’s like a pressure valve I didn’t know I needed. When I’m at capacity the Shoutlet gives me an immediate, physical way to release that pent-up frustration without unleashing it on my kids. It doesn’t replace any of the real emotional labor, but it supports it. It buys me that crucial pause. And honestly, sometimes that pause is all I need to show up the way I actually want to, to get to the place where I can access all the other skills I’ve worked so hard to develop and show up for my kids in an intentional, connected way.

I keep one in my car and another in my room. When the chaos starts to boil over and that primal yell rises in my throat, I grab it—and when the kids see me stuff my face into it, they know: Mom is overwhelmed. It’s another option in my emotional toolkit, and some days, it’s the one I reach for first.

Just like roughhousing helps kids release big energy in a healthy way, screaming into the Shoutlet offers a form of cathartic release. Have you ever pulled over just to scream in your car? It feels good to let it out, like scream-singing the bridge from The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived. This is like that—but portable, and way less alarming to everyone around you.

I ultimately strive to be a parent that never, ever raises their voice, and the more tools I have to help me get there, whatever they may be, the better and more successful I’ll feel. I still raise my voice more than I want to. But I yell less. And when I do lose it, I recover faster. I apologize quicker. I model better. I’m more equipped to show my kids that feeling big emotions is okay, and managing them takes practice and tools.

And outside of parenting, I’m pretty sure my cat appreciates that I now lose my shit into a noise-stifling device instead of startling him with full-volume human rage. One day, maybe I’ll turn off those anxiety-inducing news alerts on my phone—but until then, the Shoutlet has its work cut out for it.

One thing I haven’t mastered yet though? Fighting over who gets to use it. I might need to invest in a dozen more.

Molly Wadzeck is a freelance writer and mother of three. Born and raised in Waco, Texas, she moved to the Finger Lakes region of New York, where she worked in animal rescue and welfare for many years. She writes essays and poems about feminism, mental health, parenting, pop culture, and politics. She is usually late because she stopped to pet a dog. She tweets at @mollywadzeck.