This story can’t be told in 20-some inches. I hope you will follow it over the course of the next couple weeks to find out how it turns out.

The first early morning call from a police officer came at 1:30 a.m. a number of years ago, startling me out of a deep sleep. As I tried to shake off my sleepiness, the person on the other end of the line sounded like a kid pulling a practical joke. He was telling me my son had been picked up for drinking and was being transported to the police station in a small town 20 minutes down the road from our hometown.

I laughed &045; actually laughed &045; and asked who was pulling such a prank. This went on for several minutes, with me finally asking for the officer’s badge number, expecting the prankster to stumble as he made up a number.

As the realization struck that I was speaking to a bona fide officer &045; and his superior officer &045; I felt pretty stupid. My son had indeed been pulled over for drinking and to make matters worse, had been belligerent with the officer and would I please come and take him home, the officer asked.

It was the beginning of a several-month roller coaster ride from which I wasn’t sure we would disembark with our family intact, stronger and closer for the experience. Sometimes what was once a solid relationship becomes a casualty when a child strays from family values.

Of course, my eyes failed to see, my heart to accept the early signs my son was getting into something well over his head, though my husband suspected such.

This call was my wakeup call.

On the ride home, I asked for his side of the story: The officer was unkind, and my son reacted to him, resulting in my son getting mouthy. He wasn’t doing anything wrong; he had been stopped by the side of the road and was standing by the car as his date threw up in the ditch.

He seemed reasonably sober as we talked, but he couldn’t seem to accept his responsibility for the incident, no matter how many different ways I tried to explain it to him. I come from the school that teaches it is never acceptable to back-talk authority, especially a law officer, and I

had taught my children such &045; I thought.

Recounting the incident to my husband the next morning, he immediately began pointing out other examples of our son’s indiscretions. I wasn’t ready to accept this evidence for what it blatantly said about his new activities.

Such denial isn’t uncommon. From many mothers I’ve heard the same story: It is another who finally makes a mother open her eyes to what is really happening with a child. Mothers are &045; and should be &045; cheerleaders for their kids. Being in our children’s corner helps build confidence and security and other healthy feelings in our kids. I was &045; and continue to be &045; my kids’ most ardant fan. I believe the best of them first.

At some point, however, we must remove the blinders and take action.

It wasn’t until my husband took it upon himself to inspect our son’s car and found evidence of marijuana use that I took those blinders off.

And let me say it was painful. His life flashed before my eyes: He was a sensitive, caring, loving, funny, smart kid. This was not how we raised this child. We had talked about the dangers of drug use, alcohol use, fast driving, drinking and vehicular use, sex outside of marriage, AIDS, venereal disease, guns, bad influences and so many other issues kids have to deal with in today’s world.

How could this have happened, I kept asking myself.

Anyone who says they had an easy time with their teens isn’t being honest about it.

The heartache a mother feels upon accepting the loss of their son’s or daughter’s innocence is nothing short of excruciating. I would rather go through anything else than that again.

My husband was right, though, there were signs of chemical use long before the early morning call: He started hanging out with seniors (he was a sophomore at the time),

his grades slipped, his lifelong friends became less important as he made new, unacceptable ones, we heard what we thought was a rumor of him escaping capture at a party by departing through a window, his temper flared easily, he became unreasonable about the silliest things; and everything going bad in his life was someone else’s fault, though mostly mine.

Next week, follow us through the court system, probation and more.