Then there’s the time I had to pick my kids up from the police station…
Since I’ve updated my website with a new design, I’ve been trying to go back through my blog posts and find those moments when I mentioned something that was “a story for a another time.” While I was doing that, one came to mind. The story you’re about to read is literally about the time I had to pick my kids up from the police station. Here’s what happened.
My kids were in elementary school, my daughter was about eight or nine, so my son had to be ten or so. They were obviously too young to go home after school, so they attended after school care at the Boys and Girls Club until I got off of work. On this particular day, I was about five minutes away from picking them up, and I got a phone call.
Me: Hello?
B&GC Employee: Hello Miss Cason?
Me: **I roll my eyes because this was never my last name, even when I was married.** Yes?
B&GC Employee: This is <insert employee’s name>. I just wanted to let you know that you’ll have to pick your children up from the police department today.
Me: WHAT?
B&GC Employee: Everything’s ok, we just had a little incident, so you’ll have to stop by there to pick them up.
Me: **sighs loudly** Ok, thank you.
Now, my son has always been a handful, but never in a legal way, and when my son and daughter put their heads together, they’re like twins, so at this point there’s no telling what this little “incident” is. My best guess was there was some trouble with another kid, or kids, and The Wonder Twins banned together to defend themselves. And the parent, or parents, didn’t appreciate the fallout of whatever happened from that point.
I pull up to the police department, and I’m met outside by a plain clothed officer.
Officer: Are you Angela Waderker?
Me: I am.
Officer: Hi, I’m detective <insert some name here>. **extends his hand to me**
Me: Hello. **takes his hand, and he proceeds to squeeze mine as if he’s trying to break it.**
Officer: It’s my understanding Miss Waderker that you like to beat your children with wire hangers.
Me: WHAT?
Officer: **holding the door open** Why don’t you come on inside so we can sit down and talk. **he points to a bench near a customer service/intake window** Have a seat and I’ll be back out shortly.
He leaves me there for about thirty minutes, then comes back out and explains that they’ve called child protective services, and they’re waiting for them to come and interview the children.
Me: What are you talking about, why am I here?
Officer: Your little girl told the Boys and Girls Club staff that you beat her and her brother with wire hangers.
Me: Are you serious?
Officer: Yes.
Me: I’ve never hit my kids with wire hangers.
Officer: Well what do you hit them?
Me: I spank them, with a belt, when they need to be disciplined.
Officer: Well we’ll see, won’t we.
Long story short, after several hours, my son finally rolled over and told them the truth. That, coupled with the fact that they weren’t able to find any bruises, scarring, or any other evidence of mistreatment, led to them being released back into my care. With caution.
Officer: You know, I have to apologize. You seem like a nice lady and a good mom. You have to understand, we see stuff like this all the time, and we take every case seriously. I’ll be honest with you, I spank my own kids with a belt. It’s the way I was raised, and probably the way you were raised too.
Me: It is.
Officer: And it looks like we both turned out ok. Do you have any other family in the area?
Me: My sister. Why?
Officer: Well, I’m a little hesitant to release the kids to you. Reason being, I know if I were in your situation, I’d be plenty upset with my daughter for telling a lie like that. I’d want to take her home and spank her. And I wouldn’t blame you one bit. And if that’s what you decide to do, just be careful that you do it to teach her a lesson and not out of pure anger.
Me: I’m not going to lie, I am very upset, and I do want to go home and spank her. However, I’m not going to touch her. Instead, I intend to have a long talk with her so she understands the seriousness of what she’s done today.
And with that, they were released to me. Now why would my daughter tell such a lie? Let me explain. The day before, when I signed them out, she was unable to find her homework. I’d had a long day, and I was ready to go. I told her she’d just have to re-do it. To which she replied she couldn’t re-do it, and if she didn’t turn it in the next day, she couldn’t go on the upcoming field trip. I gave her an extra ten minutes to find this special homework, then I told her we were leaving. She didn’t find it, and was so upset with me that she concocted her lie and shared it with the afterschool care staff. That was her revenge and my punishment for not allowing her more time to find her homework.
And how would one so young know about the movie Mommie Dearest (and the wire hanger scene)?
**Some of you might recognize it from the beginning of the Jay Z Blue song on the Magna Carter Holy Grail album.**
From staying with relatives that not only allowed them both to watch that movie, but other age inappropriate movies as well, like The Godfather. And I found out about that one when I overheard them talking amongst themselves one night about finding horse heads in somebody’s bed. I know, what responsible adult does something like that, right? I can’t even get into that right now. Anyway…
I had to deal with some weird looks from the staff for the next week or so, but I don’t think anyone ever actually believed I was abusing my kids. And the whole thing was quickly forgotten once the next incident occurred, which was my son telling a staff member that he was “Rick James, bitch.” And the staff member freely admitted the only thing they could do was laugh.
Don’t know how I managed to raise these kids and keep all my hair,
Angela