Tuesday's Tribute - Electro

Today I am supposed to shine the light on someone else. I talk an awful lot on here about my views, my feelings, my friends and mostly, my boys. But one boy doesn't get enough recognition.

Jonathan. Also known as Dr. Evil or Electro. This is my husband. I have referenced him on the blog many times, but I suspect it has often been in a list of who was attending this or that. Or he was likely the butt of one of my lame jokes. I often make fun of him as we did to each other since we met in the 7th grade. I know that I often downplay his role in our family because it's easy to shelf him into the "off at work" category. If there is an argument between the two of us.. he is to blame. If the kids are cranky, Jonathan probably had something to do with it. If the house is a mess, he probably made it. If I am extraordinarily tired out or stressed, he is to blame because he's not doing enough to help.

When he and I get into those marital discussions about who is doing more or who isn't doing their share in the household and parental responsibilities, Jonathan's defence is usually "you should be grateful because I do more than most husbands do". I personally don't think that's something to necessarily be proud of. Just because you can find examples of guys who don't participate in parenting to the same degree you do, does not mean that you are still doing all that you could or at least your share.

But I acknowledge that I am not showing my appreciation for what he does do.

Jonathan loves our boys. There are many husbands out there who have a hard time living with the diagnosis of autism. I have to say that I really do thank my lucky stars that Jonathan and I have pretty much been on the same page since Day One on what direction we wanted to go in for our kids. I recognize what a blessing this is. It's hard enough without having to defend your every thought, feeling and decision to your spouse.

He cracks me up. In my head, I laugh all the time. I couldn't dare laugh on the outside because then he'd know he really is funny. His sense of humour might be terribly immature- a lot of toilet humour a la Beavis and Butthead and you will probably hear the same lines ("does that come in men's?") a thousand times over- but he can keep a heavy situation light and he can definitely make a boring presentation or class a laugh to sit through. He also knows how to laugh at himself. He even admits to his students that his nickname was Electro because of his time on a primary school breakdancing group. He doesn't hate me for telling the same stories over and over again to everyone I meet about how he found himself of Walter Gretzky's garage, or how he danced so pretty as a cheerleader in high school AND university. He likes to pretend he's mature and serious, but he's not afraid to dress up like David Lee Roth in a pink jumpsuit and wig in front of his junior high students or don the Santa suit for our annual Christmas party. And he does some mean impersonations of the Squire.


He's smart and can kick my ass in geography and history trivia and his insistence that no one can ever beat him in sports trivia borders on the ridiculous. For this- he entertains me. Because we can spend a lot of time making fun of the fact that a sport-clueless girl can come up with an answer that skunked his, or we can laugh at his competitiveness when he loses at bowling.

Okay. So his frustration tolerance level is pretty low at times. But he works his butt off to do right by his kids. He gets up with us every morning to help get the kids ready for school. He lets me sleep in more often than he gets to himself. When we went through our years of sleeplessness, we would take turns at getting up with Will. When we have a poop accident in the house, he's there with the carpet cleaner. When the kids are restless and I need an empty house so that I can do some housework, he single-handedly will haul all three boys off to a park or the pool- something I would NEVER do on my own. When we set up the waterslide in the backyard, he's out there with the kids making a fool of himself as he bellyflops to the bottom. He's the one sweating bullets on a hot day with a boy's hand in each of his and one hanging off his back.

Most of all, Jonathan is still the same guy I loved and hated in the 7th grade. He's still my best friend, even if our thinking does not always follow the same path. When it comes down to it, there's no one else I'd rather be on this journey with.