A couple of weeks ago I did something I swore I would never, ever do: I spanked one of my children.

I don't think parents who use corporal punishment are bad parents, or that they don't know what they're doing. It's just that I 've always maintained that raising my hand is not how I want to raise my boys, because, as far as I'm concerned, kids can be brought up very well without ever having to physically harm them.

But this isn't the first time I've done something I vowed never to do. That train of misconception started with 'I'll never breasfeed/co-sleep/stay-at-home' and continued along the railway line with memorable quotes like 'we have a strict no toy weapons policy at our house because I believe you can teach your children to be peaceful through example' and 'my child will never behave like that in a grocery store'.

But I held strong to having a spank-free household. It just wasn't something we were going to do, ever. And for twelve-and-a-half years I successfully resisted the occasional urge to put hand to bottom.

Until, one day, Gutsy crossed the line in such a way that I didn't see any other option.

I won't go into gory details because I don't want to lay down a story that will justify what I did. Suffice to say that there was some very serious defiance going on involving screaming, throwing, banging, threatening and physically harming me. An absolutely impressive display of emotion!
As a drama queen myself, I have to appreciate the effort that went into that fit. It was rather lengendary, really, and looking back I would have to give him a score of 9.8: Very strong presentation, good verbalization of his anger, shock value, and interesting use of props. If there were an olympic tantrum competition he would have had a good shot at the gold.

I tried just about everything I could think of, from attempting to talk him down, to giving him a time-out, to taking away priviledges. And all the while it got worse and worse and worse. More and more violent, more and more dangerous for both of us, more and more terrifying for his brothers. Finally, having exhausted anything my stressed-out mind could think of, I put him over my knee.

And it did absolutely nothing to solve the problem. (And please don't waste your time sending me emails and comments about how I didn't do it right. I'm not looking for a how-to or a FAQ on corporal punishment. This was a one-time deal. Great Big Maven's Spanking Outlet Store has permanently closed.)

In the end, what ended the fit was me telling him I was giving up and going outside for a breather. When he followed me into the backyard a few minutes later and found me softly crying, he melted and we both cried together.

That was the beginning of the end of all conventional discipline methods with Gutsy. The straw that broke the camel's back. The spank that broke both our hearts.

(See the drama queen coming out? He comes by it honestly.)

After doing a bit of research while he was busily camping with Intrepid and Geekster, I came across a book called The Explosive Child.

Is there any better way to describe Gutsy the gremlin? I think not. It even has a sad little boy on the cover with a bomb for a head, which is rather morbid and disturbing and yet so very true of how Gutsy feels after an emotional explosion.

What I've read so far has been very enlightening: the parts of the brain that control a child's ability to be flexible in routines and transitions, and to be able to control frustration levels, are in the same location as where issues like OCD and ADHD seem to crop up (I'm not a big fan of labelling children and neither is the author, but he wanted to point out that the brain scans are similar).

The turning point for me was understanding that Gutsy does not act out like this on purpose. He has a strong desire to please (we see this when he's calm) and wants to do better, he just can't. He doesn't know how. His ability to control himself in stressful situations is underdeveloped for his age. The author equates it to having a learning disability of sorts. You can't teach a child like this using time-outs and sticker charts, removing priviledges or, as I've newly discovered, spanking. It's a whole new ballgame.

Once I discovered that Gutsy has no more control over losing his shit than I do over being incredibly awesome, I felt a lot better. I think I might be able to start liking him more again. Oh, sure, I love him tremendously, horns and all, but I don't necessarily like being held hostage by his behaviour.

It's surprising to me that my children aren't perfect. I mean, didn't they come from me? But what surprises me more is the sadness I've been feeling over not being a good mother to Gutsy. I feel like I've failed him in so many ways despite my best efforts. Spanking him when I swore I wouldn't didn't help my mama self-esteem, either.

The rest of the book - the part I haven't read yet - is all about how to retrain the brain and usher it into a new era of self-control. I'm all about self-control; he obviously didn't get that problem from me. I mean, that's why I'm a skinny social drinker.

Damn it!

I hope this works. If it doesn't I may just put on my new running shoes and take off for the hills. Maybe I'll be adopted by a pack of wolves and can hunt with them.... Until they discover I'm a vegetarian wuss and devour me. Do you suppose spanking a wolf woud make it stop biting?