Father

I saw something on Facebook this morning--a tribute to the dads who stand by their children with autism.  I couldn't let go of the urge to write to you about my husband.

What does Joe do all day?  He takes care of our youngest child with autism.  

He supports me.

He brings one child to speech therapy at school, and slips off to our oldest son's classroom to help support his teacher in her quest to educate our oldest autie.

He helps our autistic kindergardener with her homework when I'm busy grading papers, etc.

He doles out melatonin.

He reminds Noah over and over again that "that's not food," and wipes the slobber off of mouthed Hot Wheels.

He watches the same Dora and Diego episodes over and over and over and over.

He doesn't complain that he will never teach his sons how to play baseball or football.  

He attends IEP meetings and shares his thoughts with the team.

He co-ordinates therapy sessions and doctors appointments.

He cares for his ailing parents.

He does laundry.

He does dishes.

He explains social rules to a child who doesn't give a flip about social rules.

He holds me when I cry.

He tells me about small accomplishments.

He has tickle fights.

He doesn't look down on his son who will never join a fraternity or possibly even have a girlfriend.

He gives extra attention to our "normie." 

He prays and reads the Bible--even when my faith is gone.

He manages to not become absorbed by autism.  How?  I wish I could tell you.

He braves grocery stores with an autistic three-year-old.

He provides OT and Speech therapy 24/7.

He know our kids' IEP goals and what we're doing to reach them.

He handles things that most other dads can't even fathom.

He knows what it's like to wonder if your child will ever speak.  He also knows what it's like to see things that you didn't think were possible happen.

He is the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus.

He is our autistic son's best friend.

He is my anchor.

He is the best father our children could ever hope for.