The Day I Got Arrested for Disciplining My Child

home insemination Kit

I might not be the perfect mom I aspire to be, but I’m definitely not the same type of mother my own mom was. My parenting style exists in that tricky gray area, caught between who I want to be and the reality of my daily life. Sure, I lose my temper sometimes, let a curse slip out when I’m frustrated, or raise my voice when I’m just too exhausted to deal with my kid’s antics. But above all, my child is loved—no question about it.

Growing up, I often felt unloved and neglected. As the nerdy overachiever—mathlete, spelling bee champion, valedictorian—I worked tirelessly to earn my mother’s affection. She wasn’t intentionally harsh; she was a single mom juggling three jobs while raising six kids. She did the best she could, but her “best” unfortunately included physical punishment.

While I may not fulfill my ideal vision of motherhood, I firmly refuse to use corporal punishment. In stark contrast to my upbringing, I celebrate my child’s achievements every day. He has a self-esteem that I could only dream of, and we express our love for each other multiple times throughout the day.

Yet, there’s a paradox: My kid is scared of me. I know, right? As a mom, I can be pretty tough. I swing between being the indulgent parent who cooks whatever he wants and a demanding “Tiger Mom.” He has friends over whenever he wants and enjoys plenty of silly moments, yet I have a low tolerance for disrespect. When he talks back, I give him a warning. If he doesn’t change his tone, there are consequences.

He loses privileges, like his tablet, and gets grounded, missing out on outings with friends. Chores are a part of life, and he has more than many of his peers—cleaning his bathroom, vacuuming, and helping with groceries, for instance. You know what? I don’t care if his friends have fewer chores.

When his belongings take over my house, I give a warning, and if things don’t change, bye-bye, stuff! I’ve got a strict academic approach too. He doesn’t need to be perfect, but he must try his best—laziness is not tolerated.

I’m not a harsh dictator; he has plenty of time to enjoy his favorite YouTubers and play Xbox Live. As a single mom, I need to instill some fear in him. If I don’t, he’ll run circles around me as a teenager.

This brings me to the time I got arrested for disciplining him. It was about 6:30 PM, and he was being exceptionally disrespectful. I warned him, “Keep that tone up, and I’ll put you out of this car.” He continued, even worse than before. I don’t make empty threats. I pulled over, opened the door, and out he went. He was shocked.

I didn’t act in a fit of rage; I carefully considered the situation. We were at a strip mall, and I thought it was safe. After ten minutes, I drove back around, only to be met by the police. Apparently, my son had started crying, and someone had called them.

I didn’t handle the officers well initially. My anger flared, and that’s never a good move when you’re already in trouble. Soon, Child Protective Services arrived, and I realized they were there to arrest me. I quickly calmed down and asked the officer not to cuff me in front of my son, which thankfully he did.

Once in the police car, my heart sank when I saw how upset my son was. I focused on reassuring him that everything would be okay and that the police were just making sure he was safe. I wasn’t entirely convinced of that myself.

After several hours at the station, they decided not to press charges, much to my relief. I told them it was a waste of resources and suggested they focus on real crime instead.

The social services investigation followed. They don’t give a heads up; they just show up. The social worker was almost apologetic when she came to my spotless home, where my son proudly showcased his karate trophies and all his school achievements.

The case was closed quickly, but my frustration lingered. I’m grateful for people who care about children’s welfare, but I felt like I was unfairly scrutinized. Once the police learned my son wasn’t abandoned but simply being disciplined, they should have left us alone.

The experience was incredibly stressful for both me and my child. I work hard to be the best parent I can be, and incidents like these only fuel my fear of raising a child in a society filled with irrational anxieties.

As my son approaches middle school, I worry about the influence of the wrong friends. In our neighborhood, drugs are a real concern, and being a “fun” mom doesn’t mean I can’t also be a strict one. I need him to respect me and understand the consequences of his choices.

If I had to relive that day, would I make the same choice? Yes. If that labels me as a bad mother, so be it. He is my child, and I have the right to discipline him as I see fit.

It’s sad that society often assumes the worst of parents like me, and now I question whether I’ve lost my son’s trust. How will he view this incident when he’s older? Only time will tell.

Writing this has been a challenging experience. I need a moment to breathe and then get back to baking—Little Dude has recently declared that iced oatmeal raisin cookies are his favorite, and I want him to have some fresh out of the oven when he comes home.

Summary:

In this candid reflection, Mia shares her journey as a mother navigating the complexities of discipline and love. After an incident where she was arrested for disciplining her son, she grapples with societal judgments and her own parenting fears. Despite the challenges, she remains committed to raising her child with a balance of affection and discipline, confronting the anxieties of modern parenting.