I am the face of a mother who in that moment was done. Done being an adult. Done being a parent. Done being a wife. Just done.
Being the mother of two special children test my ability every single day. Some days I come out victorious but most days I’m severly defeated. Today was one of those days.
Eli is at an age now that he doesn’t want his name mentioned on any of my social media outlets. So this last year I’ve remained silent. Silence helps no one so today I’m breaking his rule.
Today started much like any other day for him. He woke at 12 pm ready to preach the reasons why he shouldn’t have to do his online school work. You see, he remains home schooled because our county is a dam joke and can’t (won’t) accommodate to his needs.
I have taught myself over the years to be a duct, however, today his insults and threats were not rolling off my back.
At some point I grabbed a hold of him in an attempt to get his attention and my nails scraped his neck. It was pretty much down hill from there because a scraped neck was grounds for him to accuse me of trying to kill him. Yea. It gets a bit dramatic around here when he’s on his Eli Thrown.
Now, let me give you a bit of my own time line events that led to this battle.
My three year old puked pizza and chocolate milk all night long. So yea. Chocolate milk. Pizza. Maybe some fruity pebbles but I can’t be certain. We managed to get some rest from 4-6 this morning. At 6 I get the other two ready for school. They still attend a private school.
So on very few winks of sleep today I was defeated. Broken. Tired. Frazzled.
He informed me that on the outside he might be smiling but on the inside he was ripping out our throats. It was at the point I had to just retreat to the bathroom and collapse on the floor defeated.
By the time I was finished with my small breakdown he had reset. He was laughing. Ready to do his school work. Mental illness is such an asshole.