I want to be happy. I want my kids to be happy too. That’s it. That’s life in a nutshell.

If this blog could be twenty words, I’d end it there with Bugs Bunny in a circle smiling. But there are more reasons to write further outside of mere word count. There are people who don’t fully understand what that means.

This isn’t an assumption. It’s knowledge I have from seeing it play out firsthand. This simple way of thinking needs to be explained to some as if it was somehow deep. It’s not. It’s exactly as it reads. I want my family to be happy.

You may say I’m a dreamer and I’m not the only one. That’s fine. Call me a hippie. Send me to hell. Whatever. I know what I want out of life and that’s what I push for every day.

It’s easy to point to my heart surgery as the cause of this “unrealistic” approach, but it goes beyond that. Everyone knows that the desire to find inner peace lives in our souls. It is what drives us to get up every day.

Yet, people are incredulous when they hear it said out loud. They think it’s impractical or silly. I’ve had blackbirds of misery question the ease in which I am able to wash away the negatives. I once had someone get mad at me for singing in my car when I should be angry about something that I wasn’t angry about. Seriously.

Do some people take advantage of this view? Sure. I have had outsiders try to manipulate these feelings and, in some cases, work to change me into a more combative person. They claim that the world will take advantage of this good-natured approach. They claim that people will do me wrong and it’s my task to do them wrong right back.

Honestly, though, sometimes I just don’t care enough to do that. Sure, if someone tries to hurt my kids or does something that truly causes harm, we have an issue. But if something is minor and doesn’t ruin my day, I don’t start a major war (sometimes).. My goal is peace and happiness.

What you put in the world is what you get out. To that end, I want to help others. Seeing people happy makes me happy. That’s what I do and I offer no apologies for that.

This approach isn’t always so easy as a parent and, as a special needs parent, it seems completely insane. After all, I have a non-verbal child. Society views him as my free pass to mope and be miserable. No one questions it when you are. Whoa is me.

That is a big reason why I write about autism appreciation. The life that I have with my children is amazing. I love when they’re here and Lucas brightens our house every day he’s in it.

Having a non-verbal child with autism may sound sad on paper for those who don’t know any better. But that paper is stupid. Lucas is awesome and I want everyone to know it. He makes me happy beyond words and sharing him with the world, whether at barbecues or blogs, lets them all know.

I am fully aware that outsiders focus on my hardships over happiness. Since he was a baby, well-meaning acquaintances offered him as an excuse to avoid anything… before I was even asked.

Hey, we’re having a party on Saturday. You’re more than welcome to come, but I understand if it’s too hard bring Lucas out.

Uh, yeah. OK. We’ll stay home. Cool. Thanks.

Sure, taking Lucas out can sometimes present challenges. On the surface, opting for a quiet day at home, perhaps lost in video games while still in my pajama pants, might seem appealing. And, truthfully, it can be…at first. However, I’ve learned that this kind of fun has an expiration date. Seclusion, even comfortable seclusion, gradually dims the spirit.

Reflecting on Lucas’s early years, I recall the countless days we spent inside, merely observers of a world that seemed to celebrate without us. It was during these moments of isolation that I realized comfort should not be mistaken for happiness. True joy, especially for Lucas, lies in engaging with the world around us, no matter the effort required.

This revelation wasn’t immediate but evolved through our ventures outside. Each trip, whether to a neighbor’s barbecue or a local event, became a step towards understanding what makes my son truly happy. It wasn’t about the success of the outing but about the attempt, the experience, and the message that we’re part of a larger community. This approach has not only broadened Lucas’s world but has deepened my understanding of happiness as a dynamic and inclusive experience.

The truth is that Lucas could manage days out of the house. He has and he will in the future. My little fella might not love every outing, but he loves some of them. His undiscovered love for activities and events exist, but we never know until we do them.

For me, it’s the same thing. Comfort is different than being happy, although we convince ourselves otherwise. Staying in a familiar place because the thought of venturing into the world is too scary doesn’t equal true happiness. It didn’t for me. At different times, I stood still when I should have found what could make me complete. In many cases, it was right outside my doorway.

This is one of those life lessons I learned and repeated on my own through the years. I’d routinely notice, correct it, and then inevitably do it again later. Much like my son doesn’t do things 100% of the time once he learns it. Neither did I. Those lessons take time to sink in and, even when they do, they sometimes rise back out.

As with most of these pieces of personal growth, I’m tasked with teaching them to my son. When I realize that the entire world is waiting for me to find my people, passion, and true self, I need to show him too. The things that make him complete are out there too.

My job is to guide my kids to their happiest place in life. For my neurotypical daughter, those things can be taught through discussions and anecdotes. For Lucas, it’s taught by bringing him to them.

We may have times of difficulty in our home. Sure. But in between those moments, we have fun. On days that my children are here, this place is like Chuck E. Cheese without the mice. Moping in misery is never on the agenda. Chaining ourselves to our comfort zone isn’t either.

I’ve said it before. Our happiness is out there. We still haven’t met all the people we will love and all the people who will love us yet. Neither have you. We’re all on a quest to find our happiness in the world. As a father, it’s my job to help my children find it too.