Often times I feel like my life is one big negotiation. Every day I seem to be holding my cards close to the vest deciding which ones to play, when to bluff and when to fold. For instance,  yesterday morning Paul went out the front door to get the paper and banged himself in the nose with the door because I had left the chain on, he didn’t realize it and slammed the door in his face. Ouch. At dinner last night he asked me, “When you lock the front door, could please not put the chain on?” My response was that I always put the chain on, especially when he is out of town. It makes me feel safe. It is a habit I got into when I was a single mother. And then I thought, “Why do I have to change? Why can’t you just remember that I do this, check before opening the door and this way you won’t bonk your forehead again? ” You’d think if he did this once he’d remember.

He conceded. I won that battle. Just as I sort of did over the issue of the area rug in front of the kitchen sink. I don’t like area rugs because I always trip over them and I see them as just one more thing that I have to clean. But Paul was insistent that we have one so we got one and when it wore out, I threw it out. He keeps asking me when I am going to replace it and I tell him I haven’t found any that I like. But the truth is, that rug is never coming back.

Now I’ve made my share of compromises too in the cohabitation department. Or have I? Let me think for a moment. Yes. Actually it is more on the tolerance level. For instance, I have learned to overlook his toothpaste spit on the bathroom towels, the crumbs he leaves behind on the dining room table and the sunflower seeds I find all over my car. (Oh and I can’t forget the lint from his pants pockets that always ends up on my dresser.) These are things that I have learned to overlook because as an adult, I know in the big picture, they are not that important. But through the eyes of a child, they are HUGE.

I’ll never forget when we were first contemplating the move Eva asked me, “Are we going to smell like them?” Smell like them??? She went on to explain that every family smells differently. We figured it was mostly because of the bath soap and laundry detergent they used combined  with various food smells. Eva was insistent that she did not want to smell like them. And I assured her we would still smell like ourselves.

What it all comes down to in a kid’s mind, and often in an adult’s mind, is: Who has the power and the control? Just as I wondered last night  to Paul, “Why do I have to change? Why can’t you just remember to take the chain off before you open the door?” My sense of autonomy was impugned. I didn’t want to be challenged on something so trivial to him that was so important to me. And he took it like a man and let me have my way because he knew that my sense of security was worth the risk of him hitting himself in the nose with the door.

I continue to hope that I am modeling to my children the life skills they will need to become thoughtful, considerate adults so that they not only learn  how to assert themselves  for the issues that are most important to them, but  also see things through other people’s  perspective.  It’s called negotiation. It’s called Democracy. It doesn’t always seem fair, but sometimes you just have to compromise. Even if it means smelling (just a little) like them.