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I am in Poland for a wedding. A Polish wedding is a Wedding with a capital W. The ceremony is traditional, with priests doing priest stuff. But come the reception, an entirely different thing emerges.
Hot dishes are served until around 2:30am, and the band took a break at 5:00am! The reception was a true, veritable feast - wonderful food, drink, games, dancing, hearty singing - genuine expressions of happiness and joy. It was not a debauchery sort of thing - just a massive feast celebrating a wedding. I think the reception went on for 10 hours. We slept, and then went to the bride’s home for more food and drink!!
We had the reception in a beautiful hotel. Our four month old daughter was with us, and we decided to rent a room so she could sleep. My wife and I decided we would take turns watching her. As things turned out, I spent most of the time in the hotel room (by my choice) My wife is Polish, and we were at a wedding for her family - so it kind of made sense.
As I was sitting up in the room, listening to people laughing and the music thumping, and imagining all the food and drink, I started to feel a little self-pity. I wanted to go down and be part of the party.
And then I had this realization that this is part of being a parent. I just watched my little girl sleep, and I listened to the music. My wonderful wife brought up yummy food and drink for me every once in a while. It’s self-sacrifice in part, and putting my kid’s needs in front of my own. I’m not writing this to show what a great hero I am - it’s just a record of the first time “parenting” kind of hit me.