I probably have a different take on freedom than my fellow Debs. The Debs who have children pretty much know that when their children turn 21’ish, they will leave the nest, find jobs, perhaps get married and start their own families. The Debs who do not have kids have their own type of freedom right now. That’s not to say folks without children don’t have serious responsibilities.
For my husband and me – there is no “freedom” from parenting. Ever. An that means no freedom from work either. Neither Mark nor I can ever “retire” per se. When you have special needs children, the job simply never ends until someone seals up a shiny overpriced box – with you lying in it. And I’m not quite certain that I won’t come back as a ghost or spectre or general crazy apparition from whatever cloud or sulfur spring I’m living on when the time comes. (Hoping for cloud!)
Freedom comes in small doses here at chez Stag. It’s part of what I call our “petits fours” lifestyle. The girls autism rarely allows us an entire “cake.” Like a full graduation or a wedding (although I have my hopes for Gianna on that one, she’s boy crazy at almost 15!) or even a sleepover with a friend. We’ve never had one. But…. every day we get a tiny petits fours – a plate of tapas if you will of hope, a happy achievement. It might be using an open cup for one. Or getting fully dressed alone for another.
We have small celebrations all the time. Our freedom comes in micro-doses and looks very different from what most of you will think of as freedom.
But we like it.
(PS) If you want to find the greatest petits fours ever, I suggest Divine Delights. Order the mice. For yourself. Hide the box.
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