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The Mother Of All Mama Bears

, , , , , , | Legal | November 27, 2020

I work long hours, so my wife is often home alone at night with my stepdaughter and my biological son, both from our first marriages. My son’s mother is not really in the picture anymore as she is working hard on getting her addictions under control. While I am very proud of her, it’s unsafe for her to be around our son right now — a fact she agrees with. On this particular night, my stepdaughter is at her dad’s place, so my wife is home with my son. I text her when I’m leaving work as I always do, and she doesn’t reply. I figure they went to bed early.

As soon as I turn into my street, I see several police cars and an ambulance in front of my house. My heart basically stops. I actually leave my car running in the street and get out and run. I’m in IT and running is not my strong suit, but I’m sure I moved faster than I have ever moved in my entire life. A cop tries to stop me at the gate, but I hear my son yell, “DADDY!” and the cop lets me through.

My son is sitting on the verandah, completely unharmed, wrapped in his blanket, and looking terrified. After I sob into his hair in a very unmanly manner for a moment, I look around frantically for my wife. She’s sitting in the back of the ambulance, having her arm bandaged, and talking to a police officer. I run over and hug her until she squeaks and then loosen my grip.

The story unfolds. My ex-wife had befriended a man in rehab. He was at the end of his stay and was getting ready to leave. She had mentioned to him that she was working so hard on getting clean so that she could get our son back in her life. The man had obviously been so touched by that that when he left rehab and almost immediately fell off the wagon, that had stuck in his mind. He’d decided to take my son to see his mother.

He had found my wife on Facebook and organised to collect one of the items she had been decluttering for free out of our shed. He’d been by in daylight hours to pick it up off our verandah and left.

When the sun went down, my wife had been sitting in the living room when she heard a window smash. He’d gained entry via my stepdaughter’s room — which by the grace of some higher power was empty that night — and he ran through the house looking for my son.

He’d told all this to the officers freely when they had arrived to find a badly injured man being held on the ground by my wife. She’d gotten the knife away from him and proceeded to subdue him, entirely alone and in a dark hallway, while my terrified son had called for help.

I look around the yard for the intruder, since my wife is having some superficial scratches patched up in the only ambulance there, and I ask where he is.

Cop: “He’s being treated at the hospital. My partner has gone with him to complete the arrest. Your wife—”

Wife: *Interrupting* “I broke both his arms.”

Too bad the hallway was dark. If the lights had been on, he might have seen my wife’s Brazilian Jiu Jitsu awards on the wall.

People wonder why I’m not usually frightened about my wife being home alone at night with our kids. That woman could snap me in half like a glowstick if she wanted to. 

We have a very shiny new security system now, and all Facebook Marketplace transactions are done in a fast food restaurant car park. My ex-wife was utterly horrified at what had happened. We knew she hadn’t done it on purpose, as she didn’t even know our address back then, and she would NEVER put our son in danger willingly. She sent my wife a beautiful letter thanking her for protecting our son and promised to never share real names again.

Don’t get between a mother and her kids. Knife or not, it’s not going to end well for you.

This story is part of our Best Of November 2020 roundup!

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Read the Best Of November 2020 roundup!

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