I Don't Know How He Got His Kid to Orchestra, Dance, Ukulele, and Chinese Class—and Still Found Time to Write

About This Artist Caregiver

I’m an autistic, Latine guy in my mid-forties. I live in the Great Lakes region with my wife and son. I work full-time for state government as a day job, and I write and direct plays with local theatres. My wife works full-time as an elementary school dance teacher. She and I care for our thirteen-year-old son who’s in seventh grade. All three of us have autism, ADHD, and anxiety; we’re triple threats.

Village: 

Our village is dispersed. My wife’s parents live thirteen hours away, and my dad lives more than twenty hours away. Their help has been mostly financial in the past. Every summer, our son stays with my in-laws for three weeks.

We have friends in town that have helped with childcare in the past. A church friend of ours, I’ll call him Bert, is a retired elementary music teacher and has been the emergency contact for our son. He was a big part of helping us when our son was younger, but Bert’s now in his mid-seventies and having health problems. We’ve lately been supporting him more than he supports us.

Financial Impact: 

I began working full-time for a state agency nine years ago, and I’m now making $110,000 a year. My wife started a new job as an elementary school dance teacher last year. Her income is $64,000. Ten years ago, our combined salaries were less than my wife’s current salary, so this is new financial territory for us.

Our mortgage is $1,250 a month, and I don’t think we could pay that for a 2,000 square foot house most anywhere else.

During the school year, I’m on call as the primary caregiver for my son and handle all appointments like doctors, therapy ($150 a session twice a month, but we get a $46.47 check once I submit a claim), orthodontist ($210 a month for braces), private cello lessons ($240 a month), ukulele lessons ($140 a month), and dance class ($45 a month). My wife gets a discount on my son’s dance class because she teaches for the studio on Saturdays. In the summer, my wife swaps to be primary caregiver, since she has the time off from teaching.

I’ve explored applying for full-time theatre or professor jobs, but in most cases I’d be taking a massive pay cut. Any artistic opportunities that would take me away from my full-time job are non-starters.

Because of this, I concentrate on writing and directing for local theatres when I can. Writing is flexible and fits nicely into the gaps of my schedule.

Diary

Wednesday

The cat wakes me up at 5:45 a.m. I hate daylight savings. After I feed her, I feed our bird and stay downstairs doomscrolling. My wife comes down from the bedroom and warns me that the cat threw up upstairs.

As I clean up cat puke in the hall upstairs, my son wakes up and gives me a joyful “good morning” greeting. We both prep for our day.

I work most weekdays at a state office downtown since the governor’s return to office mandate. Thankfully, today is the one day I work from home.

I throw together a bowl of cereal for breakfast and log into all my work applications. My son watches YouTube and chows down his three to four bowls of Froot Loops.

My son has a Chinese class at 8:20, which is before the official school day begins at 9:05, so he can’t take the bus to school. My wife gets to her school around 8:30, so I’m on daily drop off duty.

Around 9:00, I clock out and head to physical therapy. My knees have given me issues for years, and I’ve developed a tennis elbow from performing in a play over the summer. I was directing the show, and an actor dropped out ten days before opening, so I took over the incredibly physical role.

In the afternoon, I write back to an actor about a table read of my current play in December. I scheduled this reading to push myself to finally finish the play.

Dinner is usually my responsibility. Tonight, I forgot to take something out of the freezer, so I run to Taco Bell. Since when is Taco Bell over $30 for a meal? They mess up my son’s taco, so I make him a hotdog.

I help my son gather his dress clothes for his orchestra concert. Apparently, he’s grown since we bought him new dress pants two months ago for my brother’s wedding. I’ll have to take him shopping for new dress pants for his spring concerts.

After his concert, my son refuses to get in the car because he wants to sit up front, and I spend fifteen minutes trying to get him emotionally regulated again. In therapy he’s working on trying to have more resilience to react to setbacks. It’s all a process.

On the way home, we go through the drive through at Dairy Queen to celebrate my son’s concert. At least six other orchestra families have the same idea.

At home, I reply to emails to confirm actors for the reading in December.

I take some time in between work projects to scramble notes and dialogue together for my play.

Thursday

The cat wakes me up at 4:44 a.m., but thankfully, I fall back asleep. I finally drag myself out of bed at 6:00, feed the cat, and get stuck doomscrolling. Doomscrolling usually only happens when I’m exhausted… So, thankfully that’s only every single day of my life now…

My son is dead asleep even though my wife tried to wake him up thirty minutes ago. We all had a late night winding down from the orchestra concert.

I drop him off at school and head downtown to work.

I have my own office in the building, which is a reasonable accommodation for supporting my autism and sensory needs. Having control over the lights, temperature, and being able to close the door have brought down my work anxiety significantly.

I take some time in between work projects to scramble notes and dialogue together for my play. I have the final scene written. I love the beginning. But there’s still so much to write.

I get a text from my friend, I’ll call her Lee, asking for help carrying a table up the four flights of stairs to her apartment. I tell her I’ll help after work.

I arrive at Lee’s place and get a text from my wife at my son’s ukulele lesson. She says he got angry and rude and started throwing things at her. We’ll discuss this later.

On the way home, I pick up McDonald’s. We always eat out on Thursdays. No one has the energy or patience for cooking after ukulele.

There’s a $455 medical bill in the mail from the labs my dermatologist had ordered. I write myself a to-do item in my bullet journal to pay it later.

I check on my wife about what happened at ukulele. We brainstorm ways to help, but mostly she just needs to talk about what happened.

I type up the scenes I’d written during breaks at the day job. After about an hour, I see an email from one of the actors. She isn’t available for the reading anymore. I write myself a to-do item in my bullet journal to find a new actor.

My son had calmed down substantially from earlier, so he and I finish the day playing Lego Voyagers. We love playing co-op video games together.

Friday

This morning, I take my first shower since Tuesday night.

Lee and I go out for breakfast. We talk about our writing projects and the personal issues we’re both dealing with.

Lee asks me, “What are you doing to take care of yourself?” I just shrug.

My therapist has talked to me about how all the balls I have in the air right now are not all glass; I can let some drop. But lately I feel like all the balls I’ve let drop are littered around me on the ground. Lee says, “It’s become a ball pit.” Yes. And I don’t know how I’m going to get them back in the air.

I find more spare moments at work to sculpt the play. The story is becoming clearer.

Over dinner, we watch a movie as a family: Hilda and the Mountain King.

I order more cat litter and schedule a grocery order to pick up tomorrow. We’ve been doing curbside pickup for groceries because those bright lights and loud music at the supermarket are tough and take so much out of us. When I do go into the store, I wear my literal rose-colored glasses (FL-41 Lenses for light sensitivity) and my Flare “Definition” ear inserts that take the edge off the noise.

Saturday

I wake up before 6:00 and feed the cat and the bird. I eat some cereal while watching Andor.

I fall asleep on the couch for an hour, then edit Christmas gift lists to send to the grandparents before I head out for my workout at 9:00 a.m.

While driving to my workout, I get a call from our family friend Bert. He fell again and can’t drive himself to pick up his Thanksgiving order from Honey-baked Hams on Monday (which I scheduled for him the other day). My wife says she says she can take him since she has the week off because of the holiday.

I go to the gym twice a week. My wife goes once a week. This gym is a very affirming place. Everyone in a class does the same workout, but every exercise is personalized to each person’s body and progress.

After my fifty-minute workout, I drive home to pick up my son for his dance class. I rush through a shower and listen to the commentary of my Premier League team’s match. They lost. We leave the house at 11:20 for his 11:45 class.

While my son’s in class, my wife finds me to figure out our plan for lunch and the afternoon. Her first words to me are, “You look exhausted.”

I should just assume I won’t get any work done on Saturdays.

My son’s adjustable cello chair arrives in the mail. After we set it up, he wants us to pack him in the box with the bubble wrap, so we do. He tells us to flip the box with him inside. So… We do. We all laugh.

A little after 2:00, I drive to pick up the groceries. I say hi to Eduardo, the guy who usually loads the groceries into our car. He’s a good dude. When I get home, my son helps put groceries away.

The plan tonight was to see the touring production of Some Like It Hot, but I don’t feel like I have the energy to go. I lie down on the floor with our massive Snorlax squishmallow. Around 5:00 p.m., I wake up on the floor. The sounds of my son practicing cello rise from the office downstairs. I decide we won’t go to the show. I also don’t have enough energy to work on my play.

As we leave to get a snack of cupcakes and ice cream, I tell my wife, “I should just assume I won’t get any work done on Saturdays.”

“You said that last Saturday. And the Saturday before that. You keep having that like it’s a new realization.”

At 9:00 p.m., we realize we’ve all forgotten to eat dinner. My son eats the red velvet cupcake we got him earlier. My wife eats chips and salsa and a cold hotdog. I eat a bowl of Golden Crisp cereal.

Sunday

I take it easy this morning and watch another episode of Andor before 7:00 a.m. I try not to fall asleep.

I hang out with my wife and son and send Christmas lists to grandparents.

I spend a few hours downstairs finalizing a draft of my play. Around 2:00, I take a break from writing when my son comes downstairs to practice his cello.

After dinner, I upload the draft of the play for my playwriting group! I spend another hour sending the script to the cast of the informal reading in December.

At the end of the day, around 9:30, I shower and shave.

As my wife and I relax in bed, we hear our son calling for “Mom.” As soon she gets to the bathroom, he throws up. My wife tells me she’s handling it since I have work and she’s off for the week. I check the clock: 10:23 p.m.

I do one last check of my email on my phone. Our son’s cello teacher had emailed that she’s sick, so the lesson needs to be over Zoom or rescheduled. I’ll handle that in the morning.

Whenever our son has been sick, I have a hard time calming the worry to sleep. Is he okay? Is he breathing?

He’s gonna be fine. He’s gonna be fine.

It’s after midnight when I finally calm my brain.

Monday

I’m up with the cat again at 4:53 a.m. She snuggles up on my chest and my neck. I finally go down to feed her and the bird and watch another Andor. Only one episode left!

Our son’s hard to wake up. I don’t blame him because he was up late feeling sick. I email the cello teacher and reschedule the lesson for sometime on Saturday.

I head to physical therapy at 9:00, and it feels like I’m going through a full workout.

I arrive at work around 11:00 a.m. and feel like I’d already been through a full day of activities.

My wife calls me after working with Bert. In addition to picking up his Thanksgiving ham and turkey, Bert also wanted help running errands. She spent almost her whole day with him. She says that he asked us to be on call for shoveling snow for him over the winter. The man lives across town. That’s a no from me.

I leave work early (3:00 p.m.) to drive an hour to a theatre that’s producing a short play I wrote, along with five plays by other playwrights. This is billed as holiday comedies for adults only. The theatre’s paying each playwright $500, which is not bad for a twenty-minute play.

I quickly down some McDonalds in my car and call my wife before going into the theatre building at 4:30.

Rehearsal starts at 5:00 p.m. We see costume ideas, set designs, and hear a reading of all six plays. I stay for the readings to hear what the show sounds like put together.

I’m able to leave rehearsal much earlier than expected (a little after 8:00 p.m.). There’s construction, so it takes about an hour and a half to get home.

I greet my family, relax a bit, and then email a new cast member for my informal play reading.

As I prep for bed at 10:30, I see a voicemail from Bert. He’s asking if my wife can take him to his doctor’s appointment tomorrow. I talk to my wife, and she tells me that someone else was supposed to take him to the doctor.

However, the completed draft isn’t the “win.” The “win” shows up in the tiny victories,

Tuesday

The cat wakes me up early again, and there’s a voicemail from Bert at 5:20 a.m. He calls two more times before 7:00 a.m. My wife has a migraine coming on.

Our boss’s boss told our team that we could work from home today, Wednesday, and Friday because of Thanksgiving. It’s a relief. My son is off school starting tomorrow, and we have some fun planned just the three of us.

At 9:00, my wife tells me that she’s taking Bert to the doctor. He also asks her to take him to the bank and to get his allergy shot.

On my break, I review the requirements for the Playwrights’ Center Core Writer application. I text Lee, asking if she’d write me a letter of recommendation.

At noon, my wife texts me that Bert fell while getting his allergy shot. She texts me again from Bert’s house that she’s helping him call the hospital to speak to his neurologist.

At 2:00, I pick up our Thanksgiving dinner from Whole Foods. We knew that we’d be exhausted this week, so we turned down invitations to hang out at other friends’ houses for the holiday.

Later that afternoon, my wife runs to Wal-Mart, the only place nearby to get fideos for the Puerto Rican rice I’m making from my mom’s recipe for Thanksgiving. She also grabs some root beer and ice cream to make floats since I hate pie. She and my son always make pumpkin and sweet potato pies together for Thanksgiving.

I play video games with my son for a while, then head up to do my laundry that I didn’t do over the weekend.

Once the laundry’s in the washer, I collapse on my bed. My son comes in, and we discuss Minecraft. I really don’t know a lot about Minecraft, but I love hearing him get all excited talking about it. Then, he shows me a sweet little note from his friend that he has a crush on. It’s a kind message, and he’s absolutely glowing. Months ago, she told him that she has a crush on him, too, but they both decided to wait until high school to date. Their plan.

Our friends are going out of town for the holiday, so my wife and son leave around 6:30 p.m. to learn how to give pills to their cats. I stay home to make pasta and smoked sausage, our first home-cooked meal in about a week.

When they get home, we eat dinner and watch our “family show,” Hilda.

At 10:00, my wife goes to my son’s room to read a bedtime story with him. He’s thirteen, but he still loves having books read to him. It’s a sweet time just the two of them.

Reflections:

Spotlight on Your Artistry This Week: 

In my therapy sessions over the past four years, I’ve been working through feeling like I was too old, too unsuccessful, or too busy being the foundation of my family’s survival to have an artistic career. My therapist told me I needed to find the reason that I write: What does writing do for me? How is it fun?

For me, the fun is in the challenge, discovery, and surprise. I’ve been wrestling with the play I finished this past week since 2020, so having a draft is a massive achievement! However, the completed draft isn’t the “win.” The “win” shows up in the tiny victories of teasing out the characters, playing with dialogue, and the joy of being able to sit deep in my thoughts and express something of myself.

Spotlight on Your Caregiving This Week: 

I love that I’ve been able to cultivate open discussions with my son. He’s called me his “emotional support parent.” Even if there’s a difficult subject that comes up, he knows that he’s safe. He knows that what he says is valued and that it’s between us.

Tiny moments of intimacy and vulnerability, like sitting on my bed and chatting with my son about the note from his crush are everything for me.

Spotlight on Your Support Systems and Resources: 

My wife really gave so much of herself this week. I needed to be a source of listening and support for her.

What has really helped us support each other is the book How to Keep House While Drowning: A Gentle Approach to Cleaning and Organizing by KC Davis. The idea that grounds us is that you can never balance the amount of tasks to make things “fair.” Instead, you make sure to balance the amount of rest.

To that end, I think the more Squishmallows you can have around your home, your office, or anywhere in your life is absolutely helpful. The bigger the better. Snuggle and rest.