A friend posted a great comment about thanking her "village" for helping her raise her six children. I counted up my years raising my brood of 3...for 40 years...yep, no wonder I'm tired. Here are my thoughts on how this all happens...
It is a little known fact on your parent license that from the time your first kid is 4 until the last one is 22, your "adult entertainment" will consist of sports, (if you are lucky your kiddo will fall in love with hockey), dance, gymnastics, Cubs, Brownies, Scouts, Webelos, Cadettes, Church Youth groups, Sunday or Saturday religious services, Catechism, Sunday School, Talmud, Q'uran classes, overnights at YOUR house, hiking, biking, and the attendant driving to and from--paying for food for the entire family for said events, stopping at EVERY rest stop in every state you drive through on your way to all these events. Forget about Friday date nights... That is the night you sit home by your cell biting your nails until all your young'uns are home. Your parent license does grant you Sunday afternoon for adult pursuits with other adults with whom you spent the previous week screaming at games with while thinking their kid might do better in a non-physical pursuit. You will be watching sporting events on said Sunday afternoon.
These rules are written in stone. Your reward will be well-adjusted, socially adept, morally savvy kids who someday MAY say thanks and appreciate your hard work. But don't count on it!
My Farewell Tour
I am calling this part of my journey, before I leave, my "Farewell Tour" because haven't you ever noticed that when a cool rock band is going to change members or break up, they have a Farewell Tour that lasts about a year? Well, I began my "Farewell Tour" at the Thanksgiving dinner table last November as I sat and looked around at my family, my cousins, aunts and uncles and I asked my mother what she would think if I decided to teach overseas. My mother responded favorably and I thought, well, then, this is it. This could be my last Thanksgiving dinner with the family in New England, for a couple of years. I mentally looked around at the family as if to impress their faces and that moment on my mind. At that point, my mother was the only one who knew that I was planning such a crazy, wild journey of my heart. I applaud her for being open to such an idea. Now that I am further along in my journey, she is still so very supportive. What more can one ask from her parents?