Fellas,

Some problems would be easier to solve if the other person would simply say:

I did it.

Not I did it, but you...

Or I wouldn't have done it if...

Or my favorite:

You're acting like you've never made a mistake.

Just:

I did it.

I understand what it caused.

What do we do now?

The mistake may still hurt. The money may still be gone. The appointment may still have been missed, with your child still disappointed.

But at least now both of you are standing in the same reality. That's where solutions become possible. The trouble begins when you're not.

You remember the agreement one way. They remember it another. You bring up what happened Tuesday. They bring up something you did six months ago. You explain how their decision affected you. They explain why they made it.

Before long, you're no longer solving Tuesday. You're litigating the entire relationship.

And if you share children with this person, you don't always have the luxury of simply walking away.

There are pickups next week. School forms need signatures. Money has to be exchanged. Decisions have to be made. Birthdays are coming.

Your child still needs two adults who can somehow operate in the same world, even when those adults cannot agree on what happened inside it.

So what do you do when another person's refusal to take accountability affects your life?

More importantly:

How do you stop their inability to take accountability from changing the way you live yours?

One of the easiest places to get lost is intent.

Intent matters. Of course it does.

There is a difference between someone accidentally stepping on your foot and looking you in the eye before stomping on it.

But intent isn't always necessary to address impact. Imagine you've been separated for two years.

Your co-parent has someone new in her life. That's not the problem. You knew this day would probably come. Both of you would eventually meet other people, and if one of those relationships became serious enough, that person would naturally become part of your child's life too.

That's easy enough to understand when you're talking about it in theory. It's a little different when another man is actually standing beside your son.

Still, you understand that caring about your child's mother will probably mean caring about your child too. You may not always be comfortable with that, but his presence alone isn't the problem.

Your son mentions that her boyfriend took him to get a haircut.

Okay?

A few weeks later, you learn he signed him up for baseball.

You would have liked to be part of that decision. Strike two.

Then the school emails both parents about a meeting concerning your son's grades. You rearrange your work schedule and show up.

Her boyfriend is sitting beside her.

He's not merely there for support either. He's asking the teacher questions. He's discussing what happens with homework at their house. At one point, he begins explaining what he thinks your son needs to work on. 🤷🏾‍♂️

Now something in you changes.

Afterward, you tell your co-parent that you don't have a problem with this man caring about your son.

But decisions about school, sports, medical care and other important parts of your son's life need to remain conversations between his parents.

Her answer?

"This is exactly what I knew you'd do."

What?

"You're threatened by him."

"Why does it bother you that he was there?"

Because I'm his father.

"See? This is jealousy."

And maybe that gets you thinking:

Why would she think I'm jealous? Did she want this to bother me? Is that why she brought him? Was this intentional?

Before you know it, the two of you are arguing about whether she brought another man into that room on purpose to provoke you.

And now the school meeting is gone.

Your son's education is gone.

The question of who participates in major parenting decisions is gone.

You're arguing about something neither of you can prove.

A person outside your co-parenting relationship has begun participating in major decisions about your son, and the two of you have never agreed on what that person's role should be.

That's the conversation.

"I'm not going to argue with you about whether I'm jealous. I'm talking about how we're going to handle decisions concerning our son."

She tells you you're insecure.

"We can disagree about that. I'm asking how we're going to handle school decisions."

She tells you her boyfriend does more for your son than you.

That sentence hits every nerve you've got.

You still don't have to follow it.

"We're not changing the subject. If you want to talk about me as a father, we can do that another time. Right now, we're dealing with school decisions."

You're refusing to abandon a problem you can actually address for an argument you probably can't resolve.

Now you're somewhere useful again.

This is when separating impact from intent matters most: when the argument over why someone did something begins preventing you from dealing with what their decision changed.

Start with what you can see.

You don't always need access to another person's motives to decide what the next boundary should be.

Reality gives you somewhere to stand.

There's another distinction worth learning. Someone can be irresponsible and terrible with money without being a terrible person. Someone can break an agreement without every agreement they've ever made becoming meaningless.

That distinction can be difficult to make when their behavior keeps affecting your life.

Suppose you and your child’s mother agree that you'll send extra money for your son's back-to-school clothes.

You've already paid your regular support. This is separate.

She tells you what he needs, you talk about what everything should cost, and the two of you agree on $500.

You send it.

A week later she tells you she needs another $150.

"What happened to the $500?"

She explains that she bought a few other things while they were out. Your son wanted a new pair of sneakers that cost more than expected. They stopped somewhere else. She figured she'd make the rest work.

Now you're pissed.

Because this isn't the first time.

“At this point, I should just add twenty percent every time you tell me what something costs and save us both the conversation.”

You don't have to be an asshole about it.

“I'm being serious. You're terrible with money.”

And there it is.

Making the person the problem only gives them something to defend. Now they have a reason to tell you about the field trip they paid for, the winter coat they bought, and every other example that proves they're not the person you just accused them of being.

You've traded a problem you could actually do something about for an argument about who they are.

Maybe she is terrible with money. That still isn't the problem you need to solve.

The problem is that the two of you agreed on what the money was for, the plan changed after you sent it, and now you're being asked to absorb the difference.

Those are behaviors.

Those can be addressed.

“I sent the $500 we agreed on. I’m not sending another $150 this time. If something costs more than we planned going forward, call me before you spend it and we’ll figure it out together.”

She may not like hearing that either.

But at least you've given the conversation somewhere useful to go.

You cannot solve a person.

Think about that.

What are you supposed to do with:

You're irresponsible.

You're selfish.

You're terrible with money.

You never think ahead.

Even if those descriptions are completely accurate, what does proving them accomplish? You're not going to argue her into becoming somebody else. You're not a magician.

If she's irresponsible, don't be surprised when she acts irresponsibly. You already know who you're dealing with. So the useful question becomes:

Knowing this is who I'm dealing with, what do I do differently now?

So what do you do differently?

Start looking for the parts of the problem that don't require her to become different.

If money is repeatedly the issue, change what requires trust. Sometimes that means breaking one large expense into smaller responsibilities you can each handle yourselves.

Five hundred dollars for back-to-school sounds specific until you start shopping. Clothes. Sneakers. A backpack. Notebooks. School supplies. Maybe a haircut. Maybe something neither of you remembered when you came up with the number.

So the next time around, you don't necessarily have to send $500 and hope everything fits inside it. “You handle his clothes. Send me his shoe size and school-supply list and I'll take care of those.”

Or divide it even further. “I'll get the sneakers, backpack and supplies. You take care of the clothes.”

You may end up spending the same amount of money. You might even spend more. That's not necessarily the point. You've taken one big, vague responsibility and turned it into smaller ones with clear ownership.

You know what you're responsible for. She knows what she's responsible for. And neither of you has to keep wondering where the other person's portion went.

For the problem already sitting in front of you, start by finding out what actually remains to be solved. Instead of asking, “So what are we going to do?” ask, “What's left that he still needs?”

If there are still things your son needs after the $500 is gone, offer another way forward without reopening the original agreement: “Send me the list and I'll see what I can pick up.”

You're not renegotiating the $500. You're giving the problem somewhere else to go. She can reject that option, but you haven't handed the conversation an infinite number of directions to travel.

Most importantly, a pattern gives you an advantage. You've seen this problem before. You don't have to solve it the same way again.

So instead of pulling harder on the same broken handle, start looking for another way to open it.

Until next time

Barkim

P.S. This was Part I.

We talked about what to say when someone won't take accountability and how to keep the conversation from becoming another argument.

But sometimes talking isn't enough. The problem still has to be dealt with. Something still has to get done.

And when the other person doesn't handle their part, it's easy to end up handling it for them.

Next week, in Part II, we're going to talk about what to do when that keeps happening.

Try Factor, America's #1 ready-to-eat meal delivery service.

Made from ingredients you recognize. Whole food. Nothing unnecessary. Let’s eat real.

Get 50% off your first Factor box + Free Breakfast for a year *1 free breakfast item per box for 1 year while subscription active.

Try Factor Now