Parenting Is Just Hostage Negotiation

Every Morning Begins With Demands

I used to think parenting was like hostage negotiation.

It’s not. I’m not the negotiator…I’m the hostage.

Every morning begins with demands.

“I want this.”
“Why can’t I have that”
“No, I don’t want this for breakfast.”
“Why are you packing this for lunch.”

Usually right around 8 a.m., I’ve worked myself into a frenzy and will give them just about anything they want to leave me and their mom alone!

I attempt authority.

Kids: “Dad, why do I have to eat this for breakfast”

My answer: “Because.”

Kids response: “Because is not an answer”

My response: “Technically it is.”

As I write this, it is not lost upon me that, perhaps, if I gave a more thoughtful answer I could cut down on a bit of the back and forth, but honestly, if I was to bet, I’d still get the same questions and probably get worked up even more because the thoughtful nature of my answers are being disregarded.

I remind my kids what would have happened to me if my dad had to ask me to do something for the second time. Christ, sometimes shit would hit the fan before he asked the first time. Let’s just say a Middle Eastern dad coming from a war-torn country would handle things a lot different back then than you can now!

Three Different Breakfasts

Anyway, we eventually break down and make three different breakfasts, and on top of that, each kid is getting something different for lunch. This one doesn’t like fruit, that one doesn’t eat vegetables, the other one questioning if we love him because “who the hell would feed their child a bologna sandwich for lunch.”

Thankfully this teachers strike is done and their mom and I get a little respite for the day while they’re in school. Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids, but from 8:27 to 3:15, they ain’t my problem.

In case you were wondering, it picks up just where it left off at 3:16 p.m. (2:05 p.m. on Thursdays).

Supper Hits

“This tastes weird”… “We live in Canada why are you making us eat ‘this’ kind of food”… “Dad can you buy me Roblox”… “Why do I have to study for my spelling test, I’ll never use this word again.”

(It would be funny if the word was “Please” because then he would probably be right.)

I try my hardest not to lose my mind, but negotiations stall. I offer dessert leverage… money… a guarantee that whoever listens is my favorite child. Anything to gain some ground in this war.

Bedtime Is A Scam

Bedtime is the final stand.

It is very important to note that “Bedtime” and when the “Kids go to bed” are two very different exercises in my house. Bedtime has been established to be 8:30. I know this because at 8:30 every night I say, “Kids go to bed” and like a donkey, I think they are going to listen.

When they go to bed…well this has been established as any f#@cking time they want.

Yelling, threats, speaking calmly, offering them money…nothing works.

At this point, we’re exhausted, cornered, and too tired to push back. We just lay in the bed…take a deep breath…and know it will start all over tomorrow. We are banking on the fact that, at some point, their batteries eventually need to recharge for the following day’s festivities.

The Long Game

And yet…here’s the strange part…as frustrating as it can be, I don’t actually want to escape.

There is a certain charm in their back and forth and trying to figure out how they can assert their own sense of independence. Don’t get me wrong, it would be great if they could bring it down about 100 notches, but part of their craziness (I say that in the most loving way) is also part of their charm.

Three boys, all with awesome personalities, unbelievably witty and lovable to their core. Sure, from birth they had a predisposition to do the exact opposite of what I ask, but it’s not lost upon us that one day, they will get old and have families of their own.

The demands will stop, the house will be quiet, and we will probably miss being held hostage by these quasi terrorists.

As the old saying goes, “they may have won the battle, but we have won the WAR”.

I can only hope that one day these boys have families of their own and experience the joy that children bring to your life.

And while this is happening, Lydia and I will be there every step of the way. Contradicting everything they say to the kids, giving the grandkids candy, cash, and soda, letting them know that “Bedtime” is just something that parents say but they can go to bed whenever. Really letting them do whatever the hell they want!

Why, some might ask?

Well, it’s because we’re petty pricks, and the thought of this is the fuel that keeps me and their mom going.

So, as we use this time to hone our negotiation skills and keep notes of what we can use against them…it’s about the long game.

Cheers.
- Robin Nasserdeen