Both Children and Parents Are Demanding

Sometimes, when we are on a road trip to visit relatives, we stop at a drive through on the way. Last week was one of those times. Then comes the flurry of passing out fries and figuring out whose shake is whose and everything that goes along with that—straws, napkins, ketchup, the works. Sean was driving and I was passing things every which way, the children and Sean simultaneously putting in bids for their food. I was on sensory overload and feeling frazzled and finally, in exasperation, I called for a ceasefire.

“Parents and kids are demanding!” Sally exclaimed.

And then I sat there and thought, because she’s right—parents and kids are both demanding. I know it. I live it. Life with children of Sally and Bobby’s ages means life with constant demands.

“More milk!”

“Play this game with me, mommy!”

“Mom! Trains! Mom!”

“I want another popsicle!”

“Mommy, he hit me!”

When I’m at home with these two little people I often feel like I am being pulled into pieces. Sally wants this, Bobby wants that, and all I want to do is have a moment of peace and calm, which isn’t on anyone’s agenda but mine—and Sean’s of course. I have to take a deep breath and remember that this—this chaos and constant movement—is what I signed up for when I had children. I created two little beings, and it is my responsibility to care for them and meet their needs. (And Sean’s responsibility too—having a partner to tag-team with can be a lifesaver.)

But Sally’s comment reminded me of something else. Parents, too, are demanding—and not just in the car in the hectic frenzy of passing out piping hot fast food. I make demands of Sally all the time—I tell her to brush her teeth, to get dressed, to sit down and eat her breakfast. I tell her it’s time to go inside and I tell her to clean up the mess she just made.

Now yes, I work hard to be communicative and cooperative and to listen to and consider her needs and wants. I warn her when it is almost time to go inside so that she knows what’s coming, and if she lobbies for more time I listen and we talk about it—and sometimes she makes her case persuasively. In other words, I try very hard not to be a dictator. But to a five-year-old child, that distinction is not always obvious.

I think it can be easy, as a parent, to be frustrated by your children without remembering just how frustrating parents, too, can be. Being a kid is hard. It means someone else has control over your life, and even if that person tries to be fair and do right by you that basic fact remains true.

And parents—even good parents—can be quite demanding. Brush your teeth! Pick up your clothes! Get in the car! Sit at the table! Clean up that mess! How many orders do children receive each day? More than I think most parents realize.

In the future, when my children are demanding and I’m feeling sapped, I’ll try to remember that they’re not the only ones who are demanding. I’ll try to teach them to put their demands in softer terms, to communicate and negotiate rather than issuing ultimatums, and to remember that I have needs and wants too—and as I do so I’ll work harder to apply those principles to myself as well.