Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Tribute to Mrs. Johnson

Dan, a seemingly quiet, yet adventurous teen, quite possibly had partaken in an incident that revolved around stolen beer. Dan, when confronted by the law, grew instantly fearful when his mother declared to the officer: “TAKE HIM AWAY!”

I can imagine the scene with amusement (from the kid's point of view-yikes--don't ask; AND the mom's) and have to say at this stage in my life, “You go Girl!”

Mentioning at work long ago that I had called the police on my own son, I was met with disapproving looks from some adults and admiration from others. There are so many ways that parents handle (or don't handle) situations—you just have to do what you think will work at any given time. In this case I had a teen that was way bigger than my 5'1” and didn't want to conform to my rule: 'Bedroom door stays OPEN if you have a girl over' and we'd been discussing this quite heatedly for several days. In exasperation I decided that I would just remove the door off it's hinges and marched upstairs, tools in hand. I can't quite remember if I got pushed, was about to be pushed, or if my arm was grabbed, but that was it!

“You're going to your dad's to cool down!” I declared, then instantly realized that there would be no physical way I could force him to obey. The smirk said everything, it was aggravating and this was a situation that could easily grow out of hand in the future so... “I am calling the cops!” I went downstairs and proceeded to do so, going outside to wait. He followed me to the front yard in disbelief and sure enough, here came the car.

As a single mom, I was angry, hurt, and fed up with disrespectful attitudes, especially when I felt that I had always tried to do the best for my children. However, the look on his face just about crushed me and I came so close to caving in... His eyes filled with tears; he started to beg, but I just turned to the policeman and said something along this line: 'this young man needs to cool off and we need some space RIGHT NOW. Could you please take him over to his dad's 'cause I can't do it...' The policeman must of noticed we both looked distressed, because he didn't ask any questions-- just told my son to get in and they left....and left me standing there bawling my head off in guilt and agony—how could a mom who loved her son do such a thing?!
I felt horrible and can still see his face in my mind, but to this day I feel it prevented further feuds and the whole teen anxiety/stress thing seemed to dissolve after that.

Some parents feel that calling the police is too radical and they handle their discipline at home or 'in house'. We've had a mom or two, when questioning whether her child had partaken in some illegal substance, go straight down the the police station for some tests... I can imagine the confessing begins before they even get in the car!
And I just read about the parents that called the police on their son when they found chemicals delivered to their home and a journal with plans to blow up his school... Some parents, in their blindness, would have pooh-poohed that situation with a ridiculous 'boys will be boys' comment or something equally inane.... unfortunately, there are way too many parents that are raising 'perfect angels that can do no wrong'!

Anyway...that Dan boy probably had it coming...hmmm...probably had a LOT of similar fun times in that day and age... I guess some people are lucky and don't always get caught!

1 comment:

Dan Johnson said...

Nice blog. You're a good Mom and did the right thing (not that I'm an expert). I'm not apparent (and never have been) but from my observations parenting seems to lack consistent discipline these days. With my Mom I always knew where I stood and there were lines I just didn't cross (fear of god comes to mind). We laugh now about "Take him away." One time she threw me out of the house, (not literally) I was around the same age, and as I was walking out the door she grabbed my arm and said, "Where do you think you're going?" She squeezed so hard that the next day I had a bruise in the shape of a thumb and four fingers... sheer frustration. I teased her a little about "what she had done to me" and it passed. That was the first time there was anything physical since a clap on the ass I received when I was 7 or 8... I had a truck in my back pocket... ouch.