The day has come. My 6th and last child has finally been packed off to school. “How does it feel?”, friends ask.
|#4 plaited Kate’s hair|
Looking back, I’m surprised I survived it all and haven’t gone mad. We were young, had no one to turn to for guidance and learnt everything the hard way. The good thing was, I gained wisdom and humility through this arduous parenting journey, and I guess that is a good place to start.
For starters, I would like to work. To do something meaningful. Say from 8am – 2pm so that I’m home for the kids after school. I have a rough idea of what I want to do, but need some time to search within myself to figure out exactly what I would be happy doing. I like to talk. I like to write. I would love to work with children. With the sick. The dying. With those who are grieving.
That’s the thing about being stay-at-home-mums. Your qualifications become obsolete (yes I know, 16 years is a long time to stay home). Oh well. I shall take things one day at a time and see what comes up.
My prayers have always been answered, many times in more perfect ways than I anticipated and I don’t doubt it will be any different with this. I shall keep my eyes, ears and heart open.
I’ll be turning 40 this year. So exciting. My life (outside of the kids) is about to begin.