Our days of fighting the morning beast are over.
Starting two months ago, Moose full-on STOPPED sleeping. Like falling asleep close to midnight, despite his 8:00 bedtime. He would itch his skin until he bled. Refused to eat breakfast. Fought me kicking and screaming to avoid his school uniform. The morning, on his developmentally inappropriate amount of sleep, was a parent’s worst nightmare. Kids at Moose’s age generally need 10-11 hours of sleep. He was getting 6. Not good for a kid with autism. He started biting and acting out. The poor kid.
I looked and felt like a mother with a newborn who never slept. So, we would roll up to his school, sometimes two hours late. It was bad. And it kept getting worse. Some days, it was just too hard to even fight him. One morning, he bit me five times. We didn’t even bother showing up to school that day.
I prayed. I prayed harder than I ever had in my life. The big, wet tears kind of praying that gets ugly. I asked God, please give me a sign.
Then, the IEP meeting from hell happened.
That was the sign.
No, it was more than a sign. It was a giant SLAP in the face with a sledgehammer. No one was on the same page. No one. I left there deflated and defeated. I knew what I had to do.
School just wasn’t working anymore. Moose’s behavior dictated that. The eczema, food strikes, insomnia, and the rage were the big signs.
Without words, Moose shouted the loudest in those final months of public school.
So, a few weeks back. I did it.
The scariest thing I have ever done.
I brought him home.