I’ve been a little distracted this week, too. Being on an extended vacation and taking the necessary reboot/reset of my mind has been great. Still, at the same time, I’m ready to be home and back to a routine (as much as I can actually make a routine). By the time this is posted and delivered, I’ll be on a plane over the Atlantic, heading home to the kids, the dog, and the responsibilities of work and home.
I learned a few things while away, such as I was told by a local that the average age for children to live at their parents’ home in Portugal is about 32 years because of the cost of living and the way families are so important and close-knit.
This got me thinking about my family and what I’ve observed about American families (though your mileage may vary). We tend to think after 18 years, kids should leave the nest. I did, but that was nearly 40 years ago, and it’s financially impossible for an 18-year-old to live independently and pay for school nowadays.
When we became parents 22 years ago this week, we had no idea what we were getting into. Our parents questioned our sanity; I still question it at times now, but 22 years ago, life was much different: there were two of us, and we had each other to depend upon. As scary as taking care of a baby was, it’s no comparison to the teen and young adult years.
As I age, I become more concerned about my children thriving as adults, and I can’t help but wonder how I’ve screwed them up as a single parent these last 10 years. I say that tongue-in-cheek because, while I tried to instill a sense of right and wrong and a “work hard for what you want” mentality, they are still young adults who need some life lessons learned from their own failures.
I think I had a good role model in single parenting from my mom — we all eventually turned out alright. I learned the kitchen isn’t a restaurant, everyone has a job to do to pitch in, and to love my kids unconditionally (especially when they screw up).
On this Father’s Day, I can’t help but reminisce about the dual role my single-parent mom took on. I can’t help but think about the lessons I learned from my father that I carried forward, the most important of which was to be there for my kids—to be a father not only in name but in deed. This became doubly important after Bob, the primary caregiver, died.
I’ve given much of myself to raising my kids over the last 22 years, most of that over the previous 10. Parents sacrifice for their kids. I’m not complaining, but acknowledging– this was a path I willingly took, after all.
My mom eventually remarried 40 years ago, and though I was almost out of the house, the man she married taught me even more about being a father. He taught me that being a father isn’t about blood but commitment and love; it’s about being there. I may not have his genes or name, but I’ve learned much from him over the years about being a man, a father, and a husband.
On this Father’s Day, I honor him. And I honor all those who live by the role of “Father,” whether by blood or not. And that includes those single parents pulling double duty.
One lesson I’ve learned over the years: family is not simply defined by blood, but connection; we have the families we’re born into, and the families we grow into. We’re lucky when they’re the same, but perhaps even luckier when they include both.
