I really wanted to finish two pieces I’ve been working on today. I didn’t.

I really wanted to post something meaningful to me, that might also be meaningful to you, when I finally sat down an hour ago to write.

But I’m not. I’m exhausted. Since my son’s severe concussion 4 years ago lots of things have been a challenge. After he regained his language skills and his anxiety improved, the two remaining issues still remained eating and sleep.

Today, they reared their ugly heads in major ways, and I became the mom I really don’t like to be. Impatient, snappy and just over it. Over the issues. And then I feel awful because none of this is his fault and I’m his mother and I should never be anything but his greatest advocate and protector.

But, tonight I was just done. He was the baby and toddler that ate everything. He loved all food and it was so easy to cook and go out. The day after his fall that all changed. Sure he had gone through the normal toddler I don’t like that anymore period, but he still liked a wide variety of food. But after his fall, for now 4 years he has eaten plain pasta, preferably penne or rigatoni, broccoli, avocado, sometimes raspberries or strawberries but only if they are perfect, cucumber and full fat Irish milk – which I have to lie about when we are at home in the States and luckily he hasn’t caught on to yet. But he only believes my fib if it’s whole, organic, grass fed milk. Otherwise he refuses.

For 4 years I have been packing him the same lunch and the same dinner. And believe me, I’ve pulled the “you eat what I make or you don’t eat” – and he won’t eat. And he won’t eat even the next day. Honestly he’s the hunger striker you want should you even need to protest in such a way. We’ve talked to specialists and since what he eats is actually good stuff, they have all told us not to worry. But I do. Because going out and traveling and all the things we love to do becomes a huge pain in the tush. And he’s starting to even refuse the above sometimes. So today, I’m just exhausted from it.

And then, his sleep. He won’t go to sleep on his own. And he hasn’t since the concussion. And because he was going through so much in the months (and even years) after the fall, I just did what he wanted and needed. Stories, kisses and staying in bed with him until he fell asleep. And sometimes that would take 15 minutes and sometimes it would (and does) take 3 hours. So many nights I will pass out with him, still in clothes I wore in the day, contacts in, and I then wake up at 3 am and my back is killing me and I can’t go back to sleep. And I realize that the dinner dishes are still in the sink because dinner ran late and I needed to get the kids to bed, and I haven’t done the things I wanted to do that night. So then I toss and then until the alarm goes off at 6:30 – which really should be 6 but (especially on those days), I’m not a morning person.

And tonight, I just lost my ever loving mind when after 2 plus hours he wasn’t asleep, wasn’t going to go to sleep because there were 9000 sirens going off (we live across from the fire and police station) and it was raining and he heard the radio talk about flash flood warnings. I just lost my mind. So angry about the nights I give up and the things I don’t get done, and not even sure if it’s now just habit or control or actually because of his anxiety and if it is what a horrible mother I am for being angry about it.

So, I haven’t written what I’ve wanted but I have had a good cry and calmed down a bit.

I generally avoid parenting advice like the plague, but if any of you have any insight or ideas or things to try, I’m all ears.

Goodnight all. Here’s to brighter skies tomorrow.