The scene of the crime

Perhaps I'm a mean mommy or maybe I'm just keeping it real. I'm out numbered at home. Three of them vs. one of me. I don't rely on my family and I certainly don't rely on their father. Having said that, I'm doing the best I can. Yes, I forget the little things, like a snack here and there or when picture day is coming and yes, sometimes I send them to bed without a bath after a long day of playing outside. But, I keep it real with them and anyone who asks me about them. I'm living and learning and one day they will totally be in therapy for being my little lab rats.

The newest "problem" in our lives is hitting. So far we have overcome cursing, name calling, slamming doors, throwing toys, touching things that aren't theirs and now I've come full circle to deal with the hitting dilemma... AGAIN. (thank god this is my last four year old!) It's bad. My boy Zach is just impulsive and doesn't seem to care about the consequences. It's everything from bed after dinner, no toys, no Leap Frog and not being able to go outside to play. I'm pretty sure that soon, he is going to get kicked out of daycare and sent to boot camp for pre-schoolers. (seriously, I've started a fund already)

So after a week, maybe two of Zach not taking heed to my warnings I finally found a threat that seemed to work. I told him I was taking him to the Police Station if he didn't learn to keep his hands to himself. Yesterday, I made good of it.

Here is my Police Report.

Yesterday, I picked him up from daycare and got another negative report from his teacher. "Zach has been hitting again today and left a bruise on Jason's face." I'm pretty sure I couldn't hide the rage that came over my face. I turned to my son and gave him a stern lecture. But when we were away from the teachers judgemental eyes, I told him I was taking him to the Police! And in kicked the hysterics! He shrieked and cried and dropped his body weight the entire walk up the stairs, down the outside stairs and all the way to the car. "Noooooo Mommy! Pleee-eeease! Give me a-noth--er chan---ce! It was an acc-i-dent!"

I got him in the car, and this continued as we picked up his brother.
Just as he slightly started to subside he realized that we were on our way home. Even pointing this fact out to me! But what this little guy didn't know, is that there is a Police Station right around the corner from our house. So as I took a sharp and alarming left HE STARTED SCREAMING:
"OH GOD! OH, MY FREAKING GOD! I'M IN SO MUCH FREAKING TROUBLE! PLEASE HELP ME!"
Now of course, I am in a bind... I want to laugh, because this is HYSTERICAL. He knows he isn't allowed to say this, but on the other hand, he is so stressed out, he doesn't give a flying crap right now! He is so petrified that I think he is a second away from losing control of his bodily functions and suddenly his big browns are just the sweetest things I've ever seen, so full of fear and dare I say innocence? and I want to console him! But I know that would defeat all purpose.

Finally I see an officer and quickly put the car in 'park'. I jump out like this crazy chick and shout "Excuse me! Excuse me! I need your help!" then realize that 1- he looks annoyed and 2- he may think I'm in trouble! So I follow with "Uh... I'm not in trouble or anything, but I was wondering if you could do me a favor, you see I have a son who is being bad in school and hitting all the time and I told him I was gonna bring him to talk to the police!" (what a mouthful; the poor officer!) Thankfully he agreed and asked how old my boy was, when I said "Four" I thought he was going to pass out!

He kindly obliged and went to the car asking which position he was in, then swinging open the passenger side back door to the wails of Zach sobbing and gasping for air "IT WAS AN ACCIDENT! JENNA HIT ME FIRST!" (Jenna not being the child with the bruised face)
The officer replied with a sweet tone that also included what I like to call "Bass"
"Listen little guy, if someone hits you you walk away. You find the teacher and you tell her what happened. This way you won't get in trouble. Alright?"
"Yes sir." bottom lip pouting and quivering.
"And you listen to your Mom and your teachers! Do you understand me?" The big officer said, hand hanging over the top ledge of the door.
"Yes sir." Zach replied with tears streaming down his face.
"Now I don't want to see you back here again! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!"
"Yes sir." my now exhausted and defeated son said as part of my Mommy heart ached for him.
"Good." and the door closed between us.


So I quickly turned to the officer who scared the daylights out of my son and thanked him and his reply was "No problem, now that will be $34.99." as he flashed his pearly whites and walked away. I did the same and jumped in my car, driving away, happy that it was over for Zach and satisfied with my decision.

So let me ask you this, what great lengths have you ever had to go trough to get your point across to your child? And did you do it even though it broke your heart?

I really hate being the bad guy......