This Is Why I Don't Spank

It was well past bedtime. Justin wasn't home, Mia was sick and cranky, Lauren was joyfully dumping graham cracker crumbs in the hallway. I wasn't at the end of my rope, but I could see the end of my rope. It was frazzled and whipping in the wind created by the tornado of my two counter-pressured daughters.

Mia had a tummy ache, the same one she's had off and on for a few days now. After hearing her describe the pain and seeing her body's contortions, I started to wonder if she was suffering from heartburn. I don't have any idea if there's a product for 4 year olds that would help her, but I knew that whatever it was, I didn't have it and I couldn't get it. Both girls had been stripped down, waiting for their pajamas, and we weren't about to leave the house again. So I pulled out the best remedy I knew of for heartburn: milk.

Except, Mia hates milk. She gags. Refuses. Cries.

I thought about making chocolate milk, but I didn't know if that would somehow counteract the neutralizing properties of plain milk. I poured a small amount into a tiny medicine cup, hoping to make it more palatable. Or, if not more palatable, at least more interesting. Medicine! We love medicine!

Except, Mia knew it was milk. She screamed. Refused. Cried.

The more she refused, the harder I tried to convince her of the goodness of milk. A tiny bit of milk. Lauren and I both took harmless sips; she dislikes milk as well, but the medicine cup trick worked in her case. See? I said. Now it's your turn. Just a few quick sips, and we'll go to bed. But Mia's mouth was closed tight, tears streaming from her eyes. She begged not to take the milk. I had no idea what else to do, but seeing her writhing in pain was more than I could stand. She had to have this milk. If for no other reason than to see if it was just heartburn, or something that needed a call to the nurse's hotline.

Do you want a spanking? I asked, because that's what I'll do if you don't drink this right now. You HAVE to drink this. Just a tiny bit.

Mia was beyond reason, though. She promised she'd rather have a spanking than the milk. I cursed my thoughtless warning. I'm not someone who is comfortable with spanking. I don't do it. I have before, but I've come away from those situations feeling like it was the wrong decision for me to make, and I wouldn't do it again. It crossed a line somewhere within me, and I hated what it left behind. And in those times, I was angry. In this case, I wasn't even angry: just hopeless. I had no hope for convincing her do take the milk. This wasn't a simple order she was disobeying, like, go pick up your toys. This wasn't a power struggle. This was the forced ingestion of something on which she gags. But I felt I had no other choice. I wanted her tummy to feel better, so I spanked her.

The faulty reasoning here is so apparent that it's blinding me: I want her pain to go away -- so I cause her another sort of pain. This is what I see as mistake number one, threatening her with a spanking as a means to ease her pain. Again, though, I had no idea how else to solve the problem. My creative-mom moments had been depleted by the end of the day, and I couldn't see any way out.

Mistake number two: Lauren watched what was happening. After my quick swat on Mia's behind, Lauren stepped up happily and hit her again. Because mom was doing it, it must be OK, right?! Let's ALL hit Mia!! And how on earth do I tell my child NO HITTING, when she's just witnessed me hitting? I don't care that a 'spank' is technically different than a 'hit': a child doesn't see any contrast. I ushered Lauren out of the room, closing the door on my shameful use of force. Granting myself privacy to continue.

I cradled Mia in my lap, wiping her tears and begging her to drink the milk. I pleaded and reasoned and cajoled. I sweet talked and promised and explained. She still refused. I spanked her again. She jumped, but held tighter to me, the person she trusted most in the world to love and care for her. She was clinging to me while I tried to break her fragile will to match my own. I closed my eyes against my own tears -- tears of disbelief over what I was doing -- tears for the pain I was causing her -- tears for her innocent (misplaced?) trust in me.

When she'd endured my third spanking, my third betrayal of her trust, she sobbed to me, I don't like the spanking! She finally drank the 2 teaspoons of milk, gagging on the last sip. I held her for a long time then, hoping to surround her with warmth and love. Not that it wasn't there all along, but how would she have known that? You can tell a child, this hurts me more than it hurts you, but what child will ever, ever believe that until they're parents themselves?

She asked to go lay down in her bed, still without pajamas on, still catching her breath from crying, and I covered her up to rest while I put Lauren to bed. When I returned 15 minutes later, she was calm. She was smiling and hugging me. Her tummy felt better, she said. She made goofy faces through blotchy, swollen eyes. The milk had worked, and quicker than I'd imagined. I made a big to-do about the magic milk being good for a tummy ache, hoping she would remember its relief if we needed to use it again. We read stories, cuddled and sang, prayed and kissed, and said goodnight.

I walked out of her room, still in an emotional tornado, but this time it was of my own creation. I am a terrible mother. There had to have been a better way. Her innocent trust, so willingly bestowed yet so easily shattered, is not something I want to break with my confused parenting choices.

This is why I don't spank.



Note: Please don't read into this more than it is: a simple road into my thoughts. The same reason for which most of my blog is written. I don't think YOU are a bad parent if you spank. I don't really think about it that much. I believe we all do whatever we can to be the best parents we know how to be. I'm not judging anybody but myself. And I'm also not looking for anyone to condone my decisions or make me feel better. This was just something I needed to get out of my head. But I wouldn't mind hearing your tricks for getting your kids to take unwanted medicine (or milk)! Thanks for listening.