The Dad’s Side of Cafe Life, and Another Reason Special Needs “Parents” Rule Note from Katrina: This is the first of, I hope, many posts here at the Cafe by my other half, Jim. You’ve heard of him fleetingly here and there in other posts at the Cafe, but never directly. You’ll learn more about Jim if you come back often to visit in on the Dad’s Side of Cafe Life, and I’m pretty sure you’ll be surprised. There’s a reason I fell in love with this guy, after all. He’s a deep and sensitive kind of guy, just a bit quirky, and chock full of the same awesomeness all my kids claim as well. Dads are Part of “Special Needs Parents” Too I’m a stay at home dad of three boys. All who have varying degrees of health issues. I myself have quite a number of health issues as well.
My friend Stan could be difficult at times. Never was there a more self-deprecating man. On the other hand, his complete and utter faith that he would be greeted by Our Lord and Savior was refreshing, and I admit at first, off-putting. We had a disagreement a few weeks ago over his job. He was obligated to report what he thought was a harmful environment for a student. But didn’t want to make the call. I told him that I wouldn’t speak to him again if he didn’t hold true to his ethics. He was afraid he would lose a friend. In the end, he made the call. He learned that the family in question was already doing everything possible for their kids. He did his job and held true to his ethics. The family he had to report was mine. I still consider him a friend. Stan passed away
Reacting to Opinions About Our Real World – A Different Kind of Autism Awareness The first moment I knew our real world wasn’t the one I was promised was moments after delivery, when a nurse whispered, just loud enough for me to hear, that there was something wrong with my baby’s eyes. A month would go by before Bobby was diagnosed with the rare disorder we have become intimate with, Axenfeld-Rieger Syndrome. He was mostly blind throughout his first year of life, before intensive treatments–eye drops that he hated–made a difference. Our little guy had eyes that were almost milky white, the blue eyes of a newborn barely visible beneath a spider webbing of white that had the doctors, and the specialists, perplexed. Autism didn’t enter our world for another three years, and wasn’t whispered as a real diagnosis for another couple years after that. And yet, as one boy