Let me start this by saying that I would never, ever intentionally hurt my own child. Never.
Picture this: it’s a normal Thursday evening after school and work. Kids are hungry, tired, and whiny; parents are tired from work, dinner, and other things. Kids are asked to go get ready for bed by brushing their teeth, getting their pajamas on, and picking out a book. Kids refuse to listen, even after being asked multiple times. Parents ask again, this time in a more stern voice. Kids still won’t listen and are teaming up to rebel against mom and dad. Parents start to raise their voices a little to see if that helps; it doesn’t. Parents request the children to go up to their rooms until they are ready to listen. Children still refuse. One child comes downstairs, acting silly and clearly not making the best decisions. The other child is on the stairs and begins to start throwing items in my direction–shoes, Nerf guns, Pokemon guys…basically, anything in reach. I can dodge most of them, but my frustration level is growing every minute. Sound familiar?
I head up the stairs and decide the only way my child will make it to his room is to carry him there myself. I attempt to pick up his 70+ pound frame, and he immediately goes limp-dead fish-jello mush on me, and I lose my grip. I attempt to grab him again to throw him over my shoulder so I can get him to his room safely before I get hit with another object. He is completely dead weight and falls out of my grip as I am walking up the stairs. My hands are around his forearms at this point, still trying to make it to the top step and into the hallway that leads to his bedroom. He is laughing and giggling in between spewing phrases such as “You’re the worst, Mom,” “This isn’t fair, I don’t want to,” and several other things I can’t recall. After quite the battle, I finally get him into his room, close the door, and sit against it from the inside to keep him in there and allow him to calm down. For the next several minutes, he continues his tantrum, clearing his shelves in his room and throwing anything in his room in my general direction.
As most of you know who have been in the trenches of a tantrum with an unregulated child, once the child can calm down, they either a) fall asleep or b) can actually process the event and talk through it. In this case, it was the former and his tired little body crashed hard in his bed from all the energy he had just exerted.
Fast forward to the middle of my Friday afternoon when I get a phone call from my husband; he sounds very serious and tells me to get to a place where I can hear him and away from others. I started to panic, thinking, “What could be going on?” and his words came out: “I just got a call from DCS,” and I immediately knew what this was about. The next few phrases are a blur, but basically, there was a mark left on my child’s forearm, which caused someone to ask about it, and his response was, “My mom dragged me up the stairs.” A lump formed in my throat, and tears started to form in my eyes. How in the world am I being questioned by DCS? I would never hurt my child. I did not drag him up the stairs intentionally to cause harm. My mind was racing, and my heart was pounding. My husband then said he was told that a case worker had gone to school to talk to our son and that he was required to take him to a doctor to have him evaluated for any injuries. Wait, what? Injuries? I did NOT beat my child. I did NOT cause intentional harm. This was a total misunderstanding, and because of the situation, I was completely and totally helpless. I was ashamed, even though I knew I had done nothing wrong. I was frustrated because I knew that the school personnel were mandated reporters, but how could they think I would abuse my child? I was not one of those crazy parents you see in the news. My mind continued to spiral out of control, and I was at a loss for words.
Fast forward to the doctor’s visit, he was cleared of all injuries, and the doctor saw no concerns or any suspicious marks that made him think otherwise. The caseworker then had to come to do a home visit safety check at our house the following week, and I just kept thinking, “Is my house not a safe place?” even though I knew that it was. However, a simple lapse of judgment, an unregulated child, and a frustrated parent had turned into a safety investigation with the Department of Child Services.
Do I blame them? No. Everyone was just doing their job, and their jobs are there to keep children safe, no matter what. Do I think they wasted their resources on a situation that could have been explained through a conversation and some parenting suggestions to use when faced with a situation again? Yes, but again…they were just doing their job. Was I totally and completely mortified that now my child has a DCS investigation in his permanent file at school? Yes. But the one thing that may have come from this entire situation is for me (and my husband) to look at how we parent our children and rethink even physically moving them unless it becomes a safety concern. Would I ever in a million years have thought that I would be the one that would be reported to DCS for harm to my child?
Never.
