I am very happy to announce I’ve joined The Denver Post’s talented group of writers at Mile High Mamas. I will be contributing a post once a week.

My first contribution is up today. Longtime friends of Lifenut will recognize “Chipeta”—but it is still okay to leave a comment letting me know you found my writing home-away-from home. Go say hi, please!

Earlier this week, one of my children got into trouble at school. Two days of community service and one day of detention were required as punishment.

I found out during my daily backpack dive. After school I line up the four backpacks, unzip, and begin an expedition into the recent past. Like an anthropologist, I have to use clues to discern what kind of day it was. The uneaten apple and half-smashed remains of a cheese sandwich tell me Sam hurried through lunch, again. The book flyers promise someone is going to hound me to write a check soon, payable to Scholastic.

In one of the backpacks, hiding between a folder and a notebook, was an Incident Report. I do not like incidents. There is no such thing as a good incident. Have you ever heard of the “Free Chocolate Cake Incident”? No, you hear of a “Drove Off With My Groceries Still In The Cart Incident”.

As I read through the incident report, I found myself utterly shocked, angry, and embarrassed. It is the worst thing this child has done. I showed my husband, who was equally angered. We knew we needed to calm down, decide what we were going to say, and take our time coming up with the punishment. In the heat of the moment, you want to send the child to live with Britney Spears. Calmer heads prevailed, however, when we confronted the child.

There were many tears, explanations, apologies given. We knew the child knew better and we discerned the I’m sorry was sincere.

The child had to write letters of apology. We told the child they were to serve the school’s punishment with a positive attitude, mindful the consequences could have been much worse. We prayed together, affirmed our love, warned our punishment was undecided but inevitable.

Several hours later I was still bothered by what the child did. I cried. Then I cried even harder when I realized what had me so upset.

Of course my child’s actions made me sad—for the child. Having a bad reputation is a slippery thing to overcome, and it will take awhile for others to regain trust. I felt like a terrible mom who somehow failed to teach a vital moral lesson. But it embarrasses me to admit I was upset because other people—the teacher, the principal, other adults and children involved—would see me in a negative light. My child, for sure. But me. I’m now The Mom of the Bad Kid.

It is odd and painful that I can’t remove myself from this and see my child as a maturing individual accountable for making a mistake. It showed me I can fill my child’s head and heart with good things, but they have every right to reject it. They have free will to make choices. Some of the choices will be bad mistakes. Why should I be surprised?

There will be incidents.

I recently attended the “Women of Faith” conference at the Pepsi Center in Denver. One of the speakers was Carol Kent. Her son grew up as any parent would dream—class president, valedictorian, Naval Academy graduate, well-respected in every way. But he is currently serving a life sentence without parole for first-degree murder. He is her only child.

Remembering the words she said about the nightmare her family endured gave me much needed perspective. I’m not living a nightmare. It’s called life and people screw up. The future is bright for my child, loved so dearly I ache. Yes, it was bad, but we can move on. The start smells fresh and is dyed a shade of yellow.

The canary copy of the incident report is ours to keep. Thanks.

The pink copy is for the teacher.

The white copy is for the office.

That is all. Three copies of what happened that day would be filed away, eventually forgotten, forgiven.