I’ve got five kids. In less than six months I’m going to lose three of them. I can’t fathom losing sixty-percent of my kids in one swoop. Fell or not, it’s going to be a really difficult swoop.
For the last ten years, my wife and I have raised our kids in western Europe. It’s not been without challenges, but neither has it been void of victories. Somehow, with relative success we’ve stumbled upon partially raised five bilingual and multi-cultural children who have been able to navigate the minefield of always being the foreigner. They’ve done so without too much bitterness towards one culture or too much nostalgia for the other.
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When I look at my kids, even though it may be through special dad glasses, I see balance. I see courage. I see a certain comfort level with the knowledge that they don’t fit in. I think they know that they may not ever fit in.
That doesn’t mean that I’m not terrified to send them back to their birth country with all of its wide-open opportunities and grandiose dreams. The United States is a dream factory, but it can also be a graveyard too. That’s why I’m so apprehensive to send them back.
One will go off to college. The other two will spend one year in high school before venturing off the land of higher academia and sororities. I’m not sure which of those two scare me worse.
Photo Credit: Josh Sorenson
Yet, through all the planning, hand-wringing, and praying, my wife and I have arrived at two conclusions. First, no matter how uneasy we might feel dropping our kids off on one continent and returning to another, we can’t be selfish. We don’t want to do what’s most comfortable or what’s easiest for us as parents. We need to do what’s best for our kids. It may not be what we want, but it’s probably what they need.
Secondly, we’ve got to trust in what we’ve instilled in them over the last sixteen to eighteen years. It’s there. Let’s hope that it comes out when it’s needed—whatever that specific “it” is. Doubting won’t help. Helicoptering won’t either. Whether I’ve been a Tiger Dad or something closer to a Sloth Dad, there’s nothing that I can do now to fix it. I’ve got to trust that for this phase of their lives, they’re equipped for what life will throw at them, or equipped with the resolve to find the tools that will allow them to deal with the knuckleballs of life.
Either way in 160-something days, we’ll find out.