It’s 7:00 on a Saturday morning, and my non-verbal 12-year-old son has been up since 4:25. He gets my attention by shaking the gate in his doorway like the Ultimate Warrior. My morning alarm sounds like a prison breakout.

I stumble up and literally toss Lucas his iPad. Once he gets it, he returns to his bed and excitedly begins swiping away. During the school week, I try to coax him back to sleep so he’s not too tired. On the weekends, all bets are off.

Lucas returning to bed with his tablet does not mean I get a restful return to sleep. While I do drift back, his excitement over the device causes him to squeal and shriek with glee. While I have gotten used to this, it still wakes me back up every half hour or so until I finally pull myself out of bed.

After grabbing some coffee and taking my old man pills, I make my way back to his room. It’s there that I’m treated like a celebrity. Happy, clapping, and smiling ear-to-ear, he offers hugs and kisses while jumping with delight to the iPad against his ear.

Our get-up routine takes forever. Without going too deeply into detail, most of Lucas’s morning schedule needs me to walk him through. It’s a daunting job, especially as he keeps kissing me on the cheek throughout the process, but I do it all out of love. No one appreciates me more than Lucas and, even though it might surprise some due to his autism, no one is more loving than my boy.

Finally, we head downstairs where I make him breakfast and then clean up when he’s done. After what feels like forever, we both go to the basement where I collapse on the couch. The second I do, my phone vibrates. I look down with dread.

Can I have breakfast pls?

Oh yeah. I forgot I have another one.

Lucas’s sister is 15 years old and the only reason I don’t talk about her more often is because, well, she’s 15 years old. Every picture I post is embarrassing and every story I tell is mortifying. While I keep certain aspects of Lucas’s life off-limits due to his privacy, I keep almost everything about her lifw off-limits for the same reason.

Make no mistake, though, she is my world just as much as he is. Sure, she can have a bit of an attitude here and there. I don’t feel like a celebrity in her world, unless it’s one of those celebrities trying to fight back from a humiliating scandal. She’s moody at times and can be aloof, but she’s my still my baby. In fact, I get it. I understand this age better than any other. I was once 15. Seriously. That was long before the old man pills.

People often marvel at my “patience” when raising my son. Sometimes they do the same with my daughter. After all, raising a nonverbal 12-year-old is tough, but so is raising a teenage girl. Being the dad to either one would be challenging.

Raising both together, though, is insanely difficult, especially as a divorced dad. For my half of the week, I fly solo. Sometimes it feels like having a job you don’t know how to do and being amazed when you make it to Friday. I’m always holding on until payday with these kids.

The reason I say this is because on the rare occasions when I am with just with one of my kids, it is a breeze. Lucas gets his stuff done and we spend the day watching TV or going for a walk around the neighborhood. When it’s just his sister, I drive her to her appointments and then go out for dinner or something. Easy peasy.

When they combine, it’s like mixing baking soda and vinegar in a sealed container. Everything is calm for a moment, and then suddenly, chaos erupts, spilling everywhere and demanding immediate attention

My girl needs to go to her lessons and Lucas needs to follow. She requires a ride here and a ride back. She asks if we can pick up friends, “come a little earlier,” or isn’t sure when exactly she needs me to arrive. Everything is in the moment. Everything is a major issue.

Lucas, of course, has taken his shoes off two minutes before we have to leave and will do so again two minutes into the drive. His iPad is on the verge of dying and, for some reason, he has decided to sit on the curb instead of getting in the car. He’s hungry. She’s moody. We need to stop at the gas station, the ATM, Starbucks, and some random kid’s house. If we turn the car away from the block that Lucas’s best friend lives on, he cries his eyes out. I’m on parental autopilot.

When it comes to events, there are tennis games to watch, plays to sit through, and concerts to applaud for his sister. Lucas, even when he’s good, is very vocal. So having happy a tennis game is great…except that he’s screaming with delight like he’s at a Beatles concert.

Back-to-school night, teacher conferences, bus pickup, and all sorts of things that affect both kids are, of course, massively off-schedule from one another. There is an hour between school bell times – just enough to make it too short to go home and too long to drive around. There is stress and worry in abundance.

Oh…and I work. Did I mention that? There’s money to be made in order to make sure we’re not homeless. I can’t even imagine what a pain all of this would be if we lived on the side of the road.

So…how do I do it? What’s the secret? Good question. But, I already told you. I have no idea. I just do. We all do.

The scenarios I presented here are not unique to me. There are many parents who do this every day. Whether you have two kids or a hundred kids and whether they are on or off the spectrum, balancing siblings is arduous. However, we just do it. That’s why parenting is so difficult at times. It’s why they make you carry around a baby doll for a week in 11th grade. It’s why so many parents are always making a face that looks like they just stepped into quicksand.

Yet, we push on. We do it for our children. We do it for ourselves. Most importantly, we do it because that’s what we signed up for. I love them both and, no matter how tough it gets, I want my kids to be secure and well taken care of. So that’s what I do.

How? Not sure. I’m just holding on until payday.