I started to reply to a recent Mom Spark post about spanking when I realized I had way more to say than just a quick reply. That post couldn’t have come at a better time for me. I needed to vent and work through some thoughts that have been weighing me down and eating me up from the inside out.

My in-laws were here all weekend. That alone requires a venting session, especially after my MIL stated while staring directly at my belly that happens to be cooking her grand baby, “It doesn’t look that you have put on that much weight this time.” This statement wasn’t a compliment. This statement was her reminding me about the 40 plus pounds I put on with my first son. This statement was just one more way for her to remind me about how wonderful and glowy and magical all 5 of her pregnancies were and how she doesn’t understand how any women could not love every minute of pregnancy and how superior of a mother she is because she loved being pregnant and loved every minute of every hour of every day that she was with her children.

Anyways… enough about that. What I wanted to write about and what I want to work through was one very poignant moment between my son, his uncle and me. About 14 hours and 6 2 liters of soda into the weekend my 3 yo son, M, kicked my 9 month old nephew. I was at the top of the stairs, they were at the bottom with my BIL (who isn’t the father to my nephew. In fact, doesn’t have any children) In response to being kicked, my nephew let out a very justified wail of a scream like only babies can do. My BIL picked up the baby and then shouted ” NO KICKING” and spanked my sons bottom.

He swatted my kid.

He hit my son!

M’s eyes grew to the size of a saucers and began to fill with tears of fear. The hit wasn’t hard enough to hurt him. It was however shocking enough to scare him.

I too was so shocked that all I did was run down the stairs, scoop up my startled and very scared child and ran back up stairs with him. I sat him in a quiet corner and explained you have to be careful around babies and gave him a hug, wiped some tears, told him that both his uncle and I loved him and distracted him with a toy.

I then told my husband to keep and eye on our boys and I excused myself to our bedroom. I needed to be away from his family. I needed time to breathe. As the shock wore off I became furious. I needed to clear the bright red anger that was clouding my judgment. It took a good half hour to cool down enough to be able to join the rest of the family and was even able to force a smile and snap a few pics while my husband opened a few birthday presents.

The rest of the day was a blur of feeding a hungry crowd of 13, playing with the kids and for the most part enjoying the company of my husband’s family. Not knowing how to handle the situation because MY family would NEVER do that-especially to someone else’s kid and because so much time had past, I decided to talk it over with T first. It wasn’t until later in the evening when we were able to steal a few moments away from the group.

My husband and his 4 siblings were spanked. They were belted. They had to watch their siblings be belted so they would learn lessons through their sibling’s mistakes.

I was spanked only once as a child. It scared me and I was afraid of my mother because of it for a long time. My sister and I respected our parents with out being spanked (sans the one incident). We were punished with time outs and the taking away of prized possessions and privileges. The only time I was ever afraid of my parents was after the single time I was spanked. I believe children don’t need to cower and be terrified of their parents to learn respect. I firmly and wholly believe that you can teach respect in a non violent way.

T never ended up addressing his brother, he did say that if it ever happened again, that he would confront him and deal with it. I believe T when he says that it was probably just an instinct and that is why his brother responded fast and physically.

I am still stewing over this. I hate that I let the situation go by with out addressing it immediately. But in the moment my first and only thought -my motherly tunnel vision- was to get my son away from my BIL. I feel guilty for not saying something in my son’s defense but I knew at that moment I was too angry and my words would be way too harsh. I didn’t want to burn any bridges with my BIL…. but in protecting those bridges I feel I let my son down.

I feel guilty. I feel like a bad mother. I indirectly-or maybe it was very directly- chose my BIL feelings over my sons.

Now, 3 days after the first time my son was ever spanked I have a script I have worked up in my head. It has been tweaked and edited a hundred times. That script will be acted out in a calm but very mama bear, protective and forceful way if this ever happens again with anyone that ever even lifts a finger to teach my children a lesson.

That script goes a little something like this:

We do not spank. T and I have made a parenting decision to never raise a hand to our children. And if YOU ever so much as lift a hand or even look like you were thinking about using violence to teach our children a lesson, we will not leave our children with you. We will not bring our children around you.We will not invite you over if our children will be around. If you think you need to punish them, put them in time out or ask us to deal with the sittuation. We do not spank our children and we will not allow others to spank them.

I feel vindicated knowing I am prepared if this ever happens again. I pray to God that this rehearsed script is never needed but I feel better knowing that I am ready and very willing to recite this if ever needed.

I learned a tough lesson. A very tough lesson. I learned that bridges be damned, my kids will always come first.

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