“My Kids Come First” Is Easy to Say. Living It Is Something Else.

My kids come first.

Everyone says that. It’s on T-shirts, memes, and dating profiles. We all say it like we believe it. We all do what is needed for our children.

It’s true for both my kids. My daughter, when choosing colleges, told me she was concerned about how much it might cost. Without batting an eye, I told her I didn’t care how much it cost. I would make it work if she wanted to go anywhere.

Immediately, a voice in my head said, “Really, bro?”

Really, brain.

It’s not even that I said it. It was the ease with which it came from my mouth. I was proud of myself for the lack of hestitation. I’m even prouder that I was able to follow through on that promise.

Olivia is my rock. She’s my first baby and will always be my girl. Even when she’s not here, I watch out for her from afar. I give her unfiltered advice built on my mistakes and the mistakes of others.

Then there’s Lucas.

Lucas is my nonverbal little man. The strong and silent type, my son has profound autism and, because of that, he needs to be looked after.

One of the biggest ways this plays into my life is the school bus. Every weekday, between 3 and 4 p.m., Lucas’s bus arrives. He needs someone he trusts there.

That’s an important distinction because my little man struggles with transitions. When he’s not in the mood to go somewhere or leave an activity, he will put the full weight of his body back and dare you to pick him up.

I hate this. I hate it because he sees any physical attempt to get him to move as a challenge.

It’s like the fable about the sun and wind fighting over who could make a man remove his coat. The wind tries to blow it off and the man grasps it tighter. The sun simply fills the world with warmth and the man takes it off willingly.

That’s Lucas.

To this day, we still have occasional pushback when getting off the bus. If he’s relaxed and settled in, he makes it difficult. I get that. That’s why I know, in the absence of someone who truly knows him, I need to be there.

I had this point drilled into my head back when there was a substitute matron was on the bus. The man seemed nice, but quiet and kind of inexperienced. When it stopped, the driver informed me that Lucas was giving them an issue.

So, I got on the bus. I know they frown on it, but there are no other kids there at that point and my son is upset. It’s my job to help.

I knelt down next to my gigantic prone boy and tried to coax him off with calm talk and iPad promises. When he leaned back further, I grasped his left arm in my hand to try to maneuver him up.

That’s when this matron grasped Lucas’s other arm int he same manner. Something inside me set off alarm bells, and I responded with a natural instinct.

I grabbed the matron’s arm with my free hand and strongly squeezed it. He looked up at me and I slowly shook my head “no.” He let go.

Full disclosure, I am so glad this happened. Up until then, I had no idea how I would react in a situation like that. I always knew I would respond in some way, but a part of me worried I would start punching people in the face.

That didn’t happen. In this case, I handled it well.

I handled it well because I know my boy. I know how to get him to move, and I know that he needs me in that moment. I anticipate possible meltdowns and I make sure I, as his parent, am there for him.

This is important because 3-4 p.m. is a rough time to be available during the week. Yet, I am. I’m here until he’s able to do it on his own regularly. I’m near the bus. I’ve created a work environment for myself that allows me to put Lucas first.

It wasn’t easy. I gave up some pretty major opportunities in the city for this. When on-location job offers and interview requests came through that might take me away during the times I know he needs me there, I responded in the same automatic way that I did with that matron. It wasn’t even a question. It’s all about Lucas.

And that’s something I get know many people see when they look at parents like me. Most are able to live free by the time their kids hit their late teens. Me? I can’t. I have a boy who needs me. He’s going to need me for a long time.

If work can’t handle that, too bad. If potential partners can’t handle that, too bad. If anyone can’t handle that, too bad.

My kids come first.

It’s a meme. It’s a T-shirt. It’s a way of life. When it is, you don’t even have to think twice.

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