Happy Father's Day!

So I'm writing my Examiner page the other day, about Father's Day, and I realize there is so much more I want to say about the subject of being a father to a special needs kid, but can't, in that forum. Even further, I realize that what I want to say is going to be sappy and sentimental, like so much written about Father's Day. And as much as I tend to get impatient with sap and sentiment, this time I don't care. He deserves it.

We know how hard it is to parent a special needs kid, and that having a child with autism comes with its own unique brand of difficulty, in that emotion and affection can be practically non-existent. Imagine your child never telling you he loves you. Excruciating. A huge part of being a parent is that feeling of being loved and needed, of having someone in your life who thinks the sun rises and sets on you. That's a pretty powerful emotion, and one of the reasons the human race is not extinct (ask any mother if they'd go through pregnancy and childbirth just for the heck of it, and you'll have your answer on that!)

I have met so many fathers of autistic children, both as a parent and as a professional. Some were wonderful, supportive men, who loved their children unconditionally. Some were struggling with the issues, and were not always present or supportive. Still others are completely absent, as these men simply cannot handle the job. Those that we know who have stuck around, who have been good fathers who simply love their families, no matter what, are to be treasured, as we all know the divorce rate among parents of special needs kids is much higher than for the rest of the population.

As for my own husband, he is, quite simply, the best father I have ever known. Of course I'm biased! But any man who says to his sobbing, grieving wife when she receives that dreaded phone call (you know the one - "we think your son has autism"), "I don't care what his diagnosis is. He's my son, and I love him just the way he is" is a man who is beyond compare. This big, tough guy, who polices NYC for a living and can scare anyone with a glare, treats his son like he was a precious treasure. The son who will never play centerfield for the Mets (he bought the baby a tiny baseball mitt when he was 5 days old), who will never beg to be taken to a ballgame, who will never be all the things my huband envisioned when he learned we were having a boy, it doesn't matter. This boy is his son, and that is all he needs to know to love him more than he loves life itself.

So from the three of us to you, sweetheart. You are the best, and we love you. Thank God for you.

P.S. Your daughter - the one who is growing up way too fast? She can't wait for her graduation trip to Disney - the one you alone are taking her on. Because she wants to spend time with her beloved father too!

Love you!!!

"You Should've Been a Teacher..."

March 19, 2010 - found this post I had started last summer - better late than never!

Yes, thanks, Mom. Perhaps I should have stuck with my original plan of becoming an elementary school teacher. Heaven knows, teachers are essential, committed members of our child-rearing system. A good teacher is worth his/her weight in gold, and they don't receive our thanks and appreciation often enough.


So maybe I made a mistake. As I fight a war with my former agency (really, is it so hard to pay someone for the work they have done for you?) and question whether I am sick of being at the bottom of the human-services totem pole (master's degree from a prestigious university does not automatically equal a stellar career, did you know?) I began to think back to some of my highlights, and lowlights, of a career spent in casework - out in the field, in the trenches, as it were. Some of the memories were...funny. So funny I sat laughing to myself for a good fifteen minutes before I remembered I was supposed to be wallowing in self-pity and regret for a poor life choice.


So I'll share a moment here, in the hopes of clearing my mind and enabling me to make a decision about how I'm going to spend the next twenty years of my employed life:


Working in Brooklyn for an HMO (shutter!) I went to visit a new patient. The 82 year-old had recently lost his wife, and I anticipated a session filled with grief work, while I attempted to get the paperwork done. Well, this grieving widower had other ideas. He leaned over not ten minutes into the visit, put his hand on my knee (I was wearing a shortish skirt, natch) and told me he was needing a wife. Would I be interested? He could offer me money.

Thank heavens I had worn my wedding rings that day (I often left them at home, as wearing diamonds while visiting extremely poor neighborhoods is generally not a good idea) and was able to let him down gently, while removing his hand from my upper thigh, where it had traveled.

So, this is my career in a nutshell. Getting hit on by 82 year-old men. How could I give this up?

Till next time!

Jo

A Day in the Life

...of a teenager!

Yesterday was our daughter's 8th grade senior prom. Yes, I know, they didn't have 8th grade proms back in my day, either. Anyway, with her mother suffering from a horrible case of the flu (no, not the swine flu) and an upper respiratory infection, my poor girl did not get the attention the day deserved. We brought her to the salon for an updo, which, after $75 and an hour and a half, she decided she did not like. Nor did she like the mani-pedi. The phone conversation went something like this:

Daughter: momwhenareyoucominghomeidon'tlikemyhair
OMGihavetogetdressedOMGJaneandNickaren'tspeaking
there'sgonnabedramatonite!

Me: What?

Daughter: Aren'tyoulistening?Isaid...

Me: Wait! Please stop. I'm at the doctor, I'll be home as soon as I can.

Daughter: Hurry! Ineedhelp!OMG!

Me (to the doctor): Do you have a pill for teenageritis?

MD: Hahaha! I wish, I'd be rich.

The prom, however, went off without a hitch, with a minimum of drama, wardrobe malfunctions and arguments. My daughter and her friends (most of which she's known since kindergarden) looked so grown up and excited. Their parents and I only cried a little bit. Really, just a little.

This is our Blog.

What a bizarre title for a blog. I simply could not come up with anything else that accurately described our life, which is not really bizarre, just unusual. Occasionally stressful (well, more than occasionally), sometimes funny, but always filled with love.

This is the story of a family. A typical New York family-of-four, with a civil servant dad, a social worker mom, a boy and a girl. Two cars, a mortgage, grandparents, tuition payments and friends (but no dog). The thing that makes us unusual (although, sadly, it is not so unusual anymore) is that our son has autism. No pity, please. We are among hundreds of families here in our little borough (most of which we know at this point) and hundreds of thousands nationwide. I don't know that a single one of these families look for pity. What they, and we, want more than anything is understanding and acceptance. When we don't get this from the general public, we find it amongst ourselves.

So enough with the speech. The sub-heading in the title is "redefining normal". This is what we have been working towards these past six years since Chris was diagnosed. You may have heard the term. It is offered as advice by friends, family, therapists (I have given it often enough in my work) to anyone who has gone through a major life change. Your "normal" life is not that any longer; you must adjust your thinking as to what normal is. The birth of a baby, marriage, new job, the loss of a spouse or parent. In our journey towards doing this, we have made a conscious effort to continue enjoying the things we have always loved (such as following the Mets) and find new things to love (such as all things Disney). We have refused to stop living; we are changing the way we live. It's that simple (but it's really not!)

So here's hoping that we can find new and interesting ways to live with autism joyfully, by sharing our story with others. And here's hoping that someone will find some hope themselves by seeing that it is possible to live a full, happy life while living with autism. I will not dwell on autism much here, I will occasionally rant about our perennial heartbreakers (the Mets), I will share funny stories about us, our world and all that's in it, and I will discuss our constant longing to be in Disneyworld when we're not.

So please enjoy. Feel free to comment with arguments, agreements and general observations.

See you soon!

Jo