31/07/2026
There really is something special about pressing pause on normal life for a little while.
Every year we head back to the US and Greece for my husbandâs work and to spend time with family. By the time we land home, Iâm always exhausted. Six weeks of different beds, different routines, airports, jet lag and kids who somehow have even more energy than usual.
Am I rested? Absolutely not.
Is my heart completely full? Absolutely.
There is something so beautiful about watching your childrenâs world get bigger.
Watching them realise theyâre loved by people on the other side of the world, not just the family and friends waiting for them back home in Australia. Watching little pieces of their personalities emerge that maybe donât get the chance to at home. My six-year-old became the âcool Aussie kidâ at summer camp in New York, and Iâve never seen him stand quite so tall.
And then there was my village.
My original village.
At one point there were 12 childhood friends all under the one roof with their kids. My kids were surrounded by adults who have known me since I was their age. There was always someone ready to kick a ball, build Lego, read a book or say âyesâ to whatever they asked to play. Endless time. Endless patience. Endless love.
As parents, weâre usually the ones carrying everything. For six weeks, I got to watch other people carry a lot of it instead. It reminded me how much parenting was always meant to be shared.
The boys rode a yellow school bus. Ate the absurdly processed American school lunches (which, thankfully, remain a once-a-year novelty đ). Stayed up later than normal. Lived outside our carefully planned routines.
And honestly? I think thatâs good for all of us.
Travel can be chaotic. Itâs expensive. It throws every schedule out the window. But it also gives our kids something that canât be packed into a lunchbox or scheduled into an after-school activity: perspective, belonging, confidence and memories theyâll carry long after theyâve forgotten the jet lag.
So now weâre home.
Back in the kitchen. Back to cooking. I canât wait.
And feeling incredibly grateful that home exists in more than one place.