“But what about college?”

As worldschooling families, we made the harder choice once already. We stepped off the standard track on purpose. And somehow this one question still has the power to make us second-guess all of it.

As a professional educator myself, I’m honestly surprised how often I see this question come up on the various wordschooling / homeschooling / unschooling groups I’m in. Over and over again.

One of the biggest advantages of homeschooling is the freedom to choose a different path. That’s literally the primary benefit. Yet somehow, when it comes to what happens after high school, most families still feel the pull toward the default.

But the college question isn't really about college. It's about fear. Fear of making the wrong choice, fear of judgment, fear of your kid falling behind. Let's look at what's actually underneath that.

When someone asks “what about college,” they’re almost never asking about college. They’re asking whether your kid will be okay. Whether they’ll be able to support themselves, find work they care about, build a life that holds together.

That’s a fair thing to wonder. It just has more than one honest answer.

College can be a genuinely good path for some teens. For others it’s an expensive four-year detour that ends in debt and a degree they never use. The mistake isn’t picking college or skipping it. The mistake is treating it as the finish line every kid needs to cross, instead of one route among several.

It’s worth reminding yourself, our kids are already doing the thing most eighteen-year-olds can’t. They adapt. They talk to adults. They make decisions. They figure out an unfamiliar place without a guide. That isn’t a hole in their education. That’s the foundation on which everything else is built.

So the job isn’t to talk your teen into wanting college or to talk them out of it. It’s to help them get honest about what they actually want, and then look clearly at every way to get there. College is an option on that list. So is trade work, apprenticeship, certificate programs, and a dozen other paths nobody brings up at family gatherings.

The good news is: You don’t have to solve this today. You just have to stop letting one option run the whole show.

If you need somewhere to start, last Saturday I gave a free workshop called “5 Myths About College: And Ten SIGNIFICANTLY Cheaper Alternatives.” It walks through where the old advice quietly falls apart and what the cheaper, saner alternatives actually look like. The replay is available at fivecollegemyths.com. You can watch it free for two more weeks.

And if you’d rather not untangle it alone, I’m running a six-week program this summer called Life Launch Lab, where one parent and one teen build a real plan, together. Enrollment is open now through July 4th.

Either way, take the free information. Use it. And focus your teen’s future back on them. Doing so will pay huge dividends years from now. Trust me.

I’m just curious…

About Worldschooling Mama Network

We’re seven worldschooling mothers sharing our journeys of family, travel, and entrepreneurship. Each week, one mama pulls back the curtain on life on the road — stories of adventure, curiosity, and the messy, beautiful realities of raising children while building lives and businesses beyond the default. Our mission is to inspire, connect, and show that your “someday” can become a “when.”

Learn more about us and meet all seven mamas →

THE WORK FROM BEFORE

The coolest thing about continuing to wake up on this beautiful and complex planet every day is that I get another chance to evolve and grow. As a human, a mom, a wife, a friend, an entrepreneur and more. My professional career has taken many turns. And one of them caught up to me this week.

I still have a paper from middle school where I wrote: When I grow up, I want to be A) A Runner B) A Nurse. (Spoiler: I don’t love either of these anymore).

Back in high school, I was your typical first-born, Type-A daughter. I worked hard to get straight A’s, and I literally cried when I almost got a B in a geology class.

I volunteered at the hospital and even held a mom’s legs back while she gave birth. I decided right then that babies were not my jam, but I was completely sold on a career in healthcare.

I started out pre-med in college but soon switched to nursing. The pre-med track felt dauntingly long, and I started to doubt my ability to live up to my own incredibly high standards.

So, I studied hard, passed the nurse licensure exam in the minimum number of questions required, and soon started my nursing career in the Air Force—the strategic way my parents ensured my college education was free.

I moved to California, and thanks to a wonderfully supportive group of fellow nurses in the exact same boat, we bonded fast. We supported each other through the trials of our nursing roles as well as our inevitable boyfriend drama.

Many of our medical patients were elderly retirees. I still remember a sweet old woman from France sipping champagne that her husband had snuck into her room during one of her last days. Another patient in oncology was younger than me; she lost her battle with breast cancer.

Like many of my friends during that time, I was soon deployed to Afghanistan. In the medical ward, the majority of my patients were Afghan children healing from limbs lost to landmines, or Afghan adults with severe shrapnel wounds. A toddler we named Elmo had burns covering 39% of his body; he spent three months with us. I still wonder where he is today.

The occasional Taliban prisoner needed care, too. U.S., Australian, and European patients came through our hospital as well, though they were quickly evacuated to their home countries for long-term care.

I returned from Afghanistan broken.

But I kept going. I worked in oncology, then moved to Germany to work in primary care. I logged long days while dreaming up our weekend travel plans. After leaving the Air Force, I traveled for a year, eventually returning to work as an inpatient oncology nurse and research assistant while graduating with a Master’s in Public Health. After another half-year of traveling, I worked in health education, camp nursing, remote nursing during COVID, and a few other roles.

THE WORK WHEN IT CATCHES UP TO YOU

One of those roles was as a SANE (Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner), assisting teenage patients who had experienced sexual assault.

The role was “on call.” Sometimes, I was summoned to the hospital at 1:00 AM to provide care to a patient in desperate need. In those moments, I was thankful my training and experience could support them as they navigated such a horrific time. Still, incrementally, the trauma of others wore on me.

I quit before we moved to Spain. I needed to step away from the profession entirely and moving abroad gave me the ‘excuse’ to do that. In fact, I gradually quit almost all my jobs and sought a new path in a new country.

But still, they find me.

As a SANE, part of your role is to collect evidence. This evidence may eventually be used in a trial where you can be subpoenaed to testify. That is what happened this week.

They paid for me to fly back to Colorado. Three years after managing this specific case, I testified at the trial. The patient was in the stands. The alleged perpetrator was sitting at the defense table. A jury of twelve citizens listened to a week’s worth of testimony, dragging this patient’s trauma out into the light all over again.

I was warned that the defense attorney was “mean.” She was. Let me tell you how much I hate dealing with the legal system. I like to think most people are inherently good. This work reminds me that isn’t always true.

I realize now that over 20 years of experience in a field can ultimately mean nothing. I don’t know if I will ever want to work as a nurse again. I feel like I give so much of myself in other areas of my life that I just can’t do it professionally anymore.

I guess I am feeling some of that “millennial career confusion” that keeps popping up on social media. I have always appreciated the chance to evolve and grow, but there is also a real fear of the unknown.

It feels unrooting to realize that the past work I’ve done is no longer an option for the future me.

Well, what is? Podcasting? I love it, but… Travel planning? I love it, but… Money coaching? I love it, but…. I love personal finance but is it enough?

Maybe for today, I just need to sit with these feelings. I can’t wait to get back and hug my family. I am determined to make this a summer of magic for my kids and me. Simple magic. Minimal travel, but lots of outdoor time. A chance to reset. To reconnect.

The possible work of my future can wait.

About Worldschooling Mama Network

We’re seven worldschooling mothers sharing our journeys of family, travel, and entrepreneurship. Each week, one mama pulls back the curtain on life on the road — stories of adventure, curiosity, and the messy, beautiful realities of raising children while building lives and businesses beyond the default. Our mission is to inspire, connect, and show that your “someday” can become a “when.”

Learn more about us and meet all seven mamas →

I learned this in a very violent and unexpected way this week.

It all started last month, the last day of my period. A mom influencer I follow on Instagram posted that she was going cold turkey with caffeine - no coffee for a month, to get a handle on her vices.

Moments after watching her story, I accidentally dropped my bowl on the ground, and it broke in half. I took this as a sign from the Universe and challenged myself to go cold turkey from cannabis until my next period started.

So I spent the past month raw dogging single motherhood, undiagnosed ADHD, IBS, Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis, Endometriosis, and the reality of living with my parents like an adult baby girl.

It was fine. A lot of emotions came up. A lot of symptoms came back.

I tried to do more yoga and may have lost my shit a few times. But it was okay. I was learning to deal with the discomfort and sit in it instead of easing it with THC.

Now this is kind of gross, and I don’t know if you can relate, but my ears have regularly bothered me; they get itchy, and I feel like there’s water in them, and idk it’s an ongoing struggle for me and always has been.

It’s gotten so bad that I ordered an ear camera off of TikTok shop, to see if there was something in there. I’ve used it maybe a dozen times. But I also had a little ear scratching tool thing that I would daily use to scratch inside my ears, because they always bother me!

A few days ago, I started to feel sick. My nose is stuffy, my throat hurts, and I just wanted to check my ears like the untrained doctor I sometimes think I am.

I whip out the ear camera. Sitting on my bed with my daughter, I told her to sit still, so I don’t pop my eardrum while using the camera.

Surprisingly, she sat still. Even more surprisingly, my hand glitched while I had the ear camera inside my ear, AND I PUNCTURED MY EARDRUM.

Immediately, my hearing in my left ear went out. My ear started bleeding. The only thing standing between me and a full-blown panic attack was the breathing I learned in my yoga practice… and my dad.

I ran downstairs to my dad like the adult baby girl I am, and he helped me calm down, and called my mom, who drove me to urgent care, where they confirmed I did pop my eardrum.

So yeah, I would love to be living my best life in my own home somewhere warm, or traveling around the world with my girlies, but sometimes being at home with my parents really is the best place to be. Like when I POPPED MY FUCKING EARDRUM!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Immediately threw my ear camera & ear scratchy thing in the trash.

It’s been four days, I still can not hear at all with my left ear and it HURTS. I would trade a lifetime of relieving the insignificant discomfort of scratching the inside of my ear and cleaning my ears out with Qtips, for the past 4 days of constant pain and the disorientation of losing my hearing in one ear.

Never again am I sticking anything in my ear.

Had I just allowed myself a million moments of small discomfort, I would have avoided the past 4 days (+ however many more until I fully recover) of constant pain and losing my hearing. It wasn’t worth it.

This can apply to nearly anything in our lives, though. How many times have you done something harmful to avoid feeling uncomfortable?

How many times have you done anything at all to avoid sitting in a moment of discomfort? That discomfort does not go away when you choose not to feel it.

Energetically, when we numb ourselves from feeling our emotions, they don’t go away; we hold onto them until we allow ourselves to feel them. Most of us can not stand feeling our emotions, so we turn on the TV, scroll on our phones, eat too much food, go shopping, take drugs, or do anything to distract ourselves to avoid that discomfort.

But if we just sat in the discomfort of our emotions, it would probably only take a few minutes to feel them and let them go forever. Instead, we hold onto them, and they affect us in every area of our lives.

I never would have thought this energetic fact, that I learned through yoga and studying chakra healing, would be mirrored in something so tangible.

Every time I avoided the momentary discomfort of an itchy ear by sticking something in there, that discomfort didn’t go away. It waited, it piled up, for almost 30 years. Nearly three decades of discomfort I avoided all came out when I popped my eardrum.

Instead of sitting with that discomfort in an easy way (not scratching the inside of my ear), I avoided it until it exploded, and I was forced to sit in the discomfort in a big way.

I want you to take away 2 lessons from this:

1. DO NOT STICK ANYTHING IN YOUR EARS. IT IS NOT WORTH IT HOLY FUCK. I know we all love a little qtip in the ear (or maybe I am just a weirdo lol), but maybe you really think you have a handle on it and there is no way you would ever pop your eardrum. I thought so too, but it only took one second for my hand to glitch and my week (hopefully just a week, please god this sucks so much) to be ruined.

2. The discomfort you choose to avoid does not go away. It compounds, it stays with you until you decide to feel it and sort it out, OR you are forced to deal with it.

Dealing with discomfort is a core part of my program: Find Peace in Motherhood.

But I never considered that something so physical, like scratching my ear, could really be the same as stored emotions. Everything is connected.

Remember how this started with a month of no cannabis, fully sitting with the discomfort of everything life has to throw at me (besides my ears lol but the universe sure did see to that)?

I promised myself I wouldn’t use cannabis again until the first day of my next period. My period usually comes a few days late, and my period tracker app said I still had two days to go on the day I popped my eardrum.

It really fucking hurt. I knew cannabis was a safe medicine to help me feel better, but I was so close to completing my little challenge.

Though she loves to test me, the Universe does love me so much, and my period came early, a few hours after I popped my eardrum. So I took an edible and thanked whatever forces keep me at my parents’ house when I so desperately want my own place, because I do appreciate access to my dad’s stash and having my mama to put my prescribed ear drops in for me.

The most ironic part of this is that I was so sure my month of no cannabis was going to catapult me straight into the life I desire, to travel or move south. I very much believed that the day of my first period, I would be somewhere else, that a month of sitting with my discomfort would quantum leap me to where I want to go.

With a punctured eardrum, I literally can not fly on an airplane. Plus, it hurts a lot. I am also sick, and my kids are also kinda sick, so I don’t want to travel right this moment anyway.

Something is holding me here, and the more I do to heal & release it, the more I uncover what needs to be healed & released.

I really do trust that everything can change for the better in a single moment, and I feel that moment is on its way to me as I type this. But for now, I can relax in the comfort of my parents’ home, and the discomfort of a FUCKING POPPED EARDRUM.

Please remember not to stick anything in your ears ever, and if you wanna explore some deeper healing with me by your side, enroll in Find Peace in Motherhood before we start on June 21 (the Summer Solstice ☀︎).

With Love,

Bryanna

♡

♡

♡

P.S. Please do not stick anything in your ears, seriously, it is not worth it, this sucks!!!!!!!!

About Worldschooling Mama Network

We’re seven worldschooling mothers sharing our journeys of family, travel, and entrepreneurship. Each week, one mama pulls back the curtain on life on the road — stories of adventure, curiosity, and the messy, beautiful realities of raising children while building lives and businesses beyond the default. Our mission is to inspire, connect, and show that your “someday” can become a “when.”

Learn more about us and meet all seven mamas →

I’m doom scrolling. And there she is — some mama in my feed, kids barefoot on a beach in Portugal, captioning it something like “trusting the journey.” Beautiful. Genuinely. I double-tap.

And then the voice starts.

You haven’t even done it yet.

You write about worldschooling and you’ve never worldschooled.

You’re a mom from Jersey with a spreadsheet and a Substack. Who do you think you are?

Yeah. Let’s talk about that.

THE THING I’VE BEEN DANCING AROUND

I’m going to say the quiet part out loud, because I’m tired of carrying it.

I haven’t worldschooled yet. Not for real. Not the way the other mamas in this network have — the bikes through Europe, the slow months in Thailand, the actual living it. I’m the one still in the suburbs writing about a life I haven’t started.

And there’s a second thing underneath that one. The one that’s actually harder to type.

I don’t have the money yet. Not “let me move some things around” don’t-have-it. I mean the gap between where I am and where Japan-in-the-fall needs me to be is real, and some nights it feels less like a gap and more like a canyon.

And let me be real clear about the number, because I think people picture this wrong. I’m not selling a house. I’m not cashing anything out. Our whole Jersey life — the rent, the bills, the kids’ stuff — keeps running the entire time we’re gone. So Japan isn’t instead of my normal budget. It’s on top of it. Roughly $8K a month, for about three months, stacked right on top of everything we already pay here.

I’m not trying to replace my income. I’m trying to find a way to pay double for one season of my life. That’s the actual math. About $24K, extra, for a season — on top of a life that doesn’t pause.

I’m not broke-broke. We’re fine. Kids are fed, lights are on, nobody’s panicking. But “fine” pays the bills and then taps out. “Fine” does not have a spare $24K sitting around for a season abroad. GIRLLL, “fine” is doing the absolute most just to stay “fine.”

So when my DMs fill up with the same question every single week — “Tsuki, how do people actually AFFORD this lifestyle?” — here’s the most honest answer I’ve got:

I don’t know b*tch lol I’m figuring it out in real time. Same as you.

And maybe that’s exactly why you should keep reading.

WHY I’M NOT GOING TO PRETEND

I could’ve kept playing the role. Confident AI mama, plan in hand, vibes ballin’ on a budget. It’s a good role. I’m good at it.

But the whole reason this network exists is to pull back the curtain. And every time I post a clean plan without showing you the messy money math underneath it, I’m doing the exact thing I said I’d never do — making it look easy. Performing the destination instead of showing the build.

So scratch that.

I’m not going to show you my bank statements — some things stay between me and my anxiety. But I am going to show you the gap, and I’m going to build the bridge across it with you watching. Out loud. Probably badly at first.

Because here’s what I actually believe: the income problem isn’t a me problem. It’s the problem. It’s the thing standing between 70,000 moms in those Facebook groups and the life they keep Googling at midnight. If I can crack even one piece of it in public, that’s worth more than another pretty plan.

SO LET’S BUILD IT. RIGHT NOW. TOGETHER.

Last post I gave you the income prompt and sent you off to try it. Confession: I ran it a few times, gotten overwhelmed, and quietly closed the laptop. Classic.

So I just reopened Claude and ran it again — for real this time. But here’s the twist: I threw out the polished “leverage your career” version. Because the truth is I don’t want my side thing to be my day job in a trench coat. I want it faceless. I want it a little unhinged. I want it to be mine and not require me to be ON. Here’s what I actually typed:

Here's what came back — trimmed, because it had opinions:

I read that last line and actually said “oh, she ATE” out loud to an empty living room. (Yes, Claude’s a girl. I decided that two posts ago and I’m not relitigating it.)

Because that’s it. That’s the whole thing. I pick the small, fun, faceless one on purpose — not because I’m playing small, but because it’s the one I can start this week AND it’s secretly building the audience for the bigger bet later. Fast cash now. Foundation for the swing. One move, two payoffs.

That’s a compound move if I’ve ever seen one.

Side note: I told Romes I’m starting an anonymous account where moms roast their husbands and he just looked at me and snickered, “...you won’t?”. You’re going to be the unpaid muse. It’s an honor, really. lol

“OKAY BUT HOW IS THIS ACTUALLY MONEY, TSUKZ?”

I know. I made the same face you’re making right now. A bunch of moms typing about their husbands does not obviously equal a plane ticket to Tokyo. So I made Claude show me the mechanics — not the dream, the dollars. Here’s the honest breakdown:

The first dollars (weeks, not months). Before any algorithm pays me a cent, the money comes from my own people:

• A “featured confession” slot — pay a few bucks to guarantee yours gets animated and posted. 30 moms at $10 = $300.

• A tiny digital product — a “Dear Husband, WTF” sticker pack, phone wallpapers, a printable. Digital runs 70–95% margin, so a $7 pack is basically all profit. 50 sales = ~$350.

• A tip jar, because some people just want to throw $3 at the thing that made them laugh on a genuinely bad day.

Not life-changing. But it’s real, fast money from a thing that didn’t exist last week — and it proves the concept before I pour hours into it.

The scaling money (a few months in). Once the account has an actual audience, the platform turns on. Faceless accounts earn roughly 40 cents to a dollar per 1,000 views on videos over a minute — so one confession that pops to half a million views is a few hundred bucks while I sleep. Then brand deals: even a small faceless account (10–50K followers) can charge $300–$1,500 a post, and mom brands love this exact audience.

The honest part. One account does not magically print $24K. I’m not going to lie to you and say it will. This is the on-ramp — the fast, cheap, faceless thing that gets the first dollars in, builds the audience, and de-risks the bigger swing (the fantasy product, where the real money actually lives). The plan was never one income stream. It’s the first domino.

But I needed a first domino I could knock over this week. This is it.

HERE’S MY ACTUAL COMMITMENT (RECEIPTS NEXT POST)

I post every six weeks. So here’s the deal I’m making with you, in writing, where I can’t wiggle out of it:

Before my next post, I’m launching the account and landing my first dollar from it. A real submission form. A name — I’m calling it Dear Husband, WTF (assuming some other unhinged genius hasn’t already grabbed the handle, in which case, respect). The first batch of confessions, animated and posted. And one tiny paid thing — a featured slot, a sticker pack, something — so I can prove a faceless idea born at 11pm can put actual money in the Japan fund.

I’ll tell you exactly what I made, what flopped, how many people thought I was insane, and whether “Dear Husband, WTF” is a brand or a cry for help. Receipts or it didn’t happen.

And I need you for this part. If you’ve got a confession — about your husband or partner, your kids, your in-laws, the group chat, the school pickup line, the mental load that’s quietly breaking you — drop it in the comments or DM me anonymously. No names, ever (that’s rule one). The pettier and more honest, the better. You’d be helping me build the thing AND getting it off your chest. Everybody wins.

IF YOU’RE IN THE SAME SPOT

Maybe you’re reading this from your own couch, your own pile of dishes, your own gap between the plan and the bank account. Maybe you’ve also been quietly avoiding the income question because it’s the scary one. Fam, I see you. I AM you, just a few crumbs deeper into the night.

Run the prompt. The real version, with your real life in it. Don’t clean it up to sound impressive — that’s how I stalled the first time. Put the messy truth in and let it hand you a starting point.

Then come tell me what came back. I’m not cheering from the sidelines. I’m right here in the same gap, building the same bridge, slightly ahead of you only because I started typing first.

I haven’t worldschooled yet. I’m not rich. I’m a Jersey Mom with a spreadsheet, a dream, and now a deadline I made public so I couldn’t bitch out.

The gap is real.

The bridge is getting built.

And I’m not taking the straight road to get there — never have. Everyone keeps waiting for me to pick a lane. Nah. I’m gonna keep zig-zagging my way to Tokyo, betting on the weird idea in the middle of the night, doing it loud and a little unhinged.

Stay wavy y’all. 🌊

LET’S F’IN GO.

#makemoves

About Worldschooling Mama Network

We’re seven worldschooling mothers sharing our journeys of family, travel, and entrepreneurship. Each week, one mama pulls back the curtain on life on the road — stories of adventure, curiosity, and the messy, beautiful realities of raising children while building lives and businesses beyond the default. Our mission is to inspire, connect, and show that your “someday” can become a “when.”

Learn more about us and meet all seven mamas →

Every move teaches you something. Some lessons are practical. Some are harder to name.

We’ve moved several times since landing in Bulgaria. Sofia to Bansko (for one month) then back to Sofia. To Sunny Beach a year later, then Aheloy a month after that. Then a move within Aheloy, to a long-term accommodation within our budget. (Seasonal prices are much higher near the sea.)

Each move has taught me something. Not just about the country, but about myself, my family, and how we navigate the unfamiliar.

We've been moving around long enough I've lost count of how many apartments we've called home. Zagreb. Budapest, where my son was conceived. Tirana, where we spent most of the pregnancy. Dormitz. Sofia.

Each place came with its own learning curve: a new language, new systems, a new way of figuring out how things work.

The logistics of everyday life vary so much from country to country. Usually more than you’d guess before you arrive.

In the US, you know how things work. You know how to book a moving truck, how to set up a utility, how to call a landlord and have a normal conversation about a leaky faucet. When you’re living abroad, all of those familiar systems get replaced with new ones, typically in a language you don’t speak.

My Bulgarian is rudimentary at best. I can politely say hello to my neighbors. I can order food and buy things at a store or market. But package dimensions? Installation dates? Complex moving logistics? Definitely not.

My husband is not a people person, so something like 98% of the communication for our family goes through me. Typically, its no big deal. But when it comes time to move, the sheer number of communication tasks naturally increases the pressure.

A few tools have genuinely helped. The Google Translate camera feature has been a go-to for me ever since I lived in China. (I literally would not have survived without it.) Pointing my phone at a form, a sign, or a clause in a contract and getting at least enough of a translation to know what question to ask next. It’s imperfect, but it bridges a lot of gaps.

Viber has a built-in translation feature that’s been super useful, too. Especially for communicating with landlords and local contacts, like taxis and private drivers.

One thing I’ve noticed is that most people (even if they don’t speak English) recognize words like “email” or apps like “WhatsApp.” Just saying one of these words will often move a conversation to a medium that works better for both of you. That small redirect has made a lot of interactions much less stressful.

I tend to avoid Meta apps generally, but have occasionally felt compelled to use WhatsApp in countries that heavily rely on it. (Albania, for example. Almost no one uses Viber there.)

But honestly, the thing that has helped the most, literally anywhere I am, is simply having a local friend I can call. Someone who knows how things work, who can make a phone call when a phone call is needed. In a new or unfamiliar country, that kind of connection is gold.

We’ve met a few taxi drivers who filled that role for us. We’ll never forget Artie, our go-to driver in Tirana during my whole pregnancy. When the midwives couldn’t reach an ambulance right away, my husband called Artie. He came immediately, without hesitation. Just being there for us helped my husband stay calm.

That kind of trust is rare anywhere. Abroad, you find it in unexpected places. Strangely, when you’re living abroad, that person often turns out to be your landlord. (Or host, for short-term stays.)

They’re usually your first point of contact with a new place. The person who helps you understand how the building works, who knows the right person to call when something breaks, who gives you a little grace when you’re still figuring out how to pay a utility bill in a foreign country. A kind landlord makes you feel like you belong somewhere, even temporarily.

Our new landlord is actually one of our neighbors. We live in the same complex, just a few buildings down. He lives here with his own family. Thankfully, he appreciates the value of a good tenant, so we were able to negotiate a good rate while we’re here.

It’s not perfect, but it will do for now. I finally have a second room I can use for a home office, which will definitely help me focus on building my business.

Our view is particularly Balkan. A unique blend of natural beauty mixed with practical utilitarian. But it suits us.

We can see the sea from our kitchen, our couch, and the balcony, so the majority of our living space.

We’re far enough from the beach that our rental price is low, but we can still go there any time.

There’s a retail shop right in front of our building, so we basically live above an employee parking lot.

But directly below us there is also this lovely, well-groomed garden.

And these village cottages in front of a backdrop of green fields to the left.

We can look straight at the parking lot or we can gaze past it to the sea.

We can stare at this pile of cars (which my son loves, by the way) or we can look beyond it to the lighthouse.

We can focus on the gas station or look a bit left to the windmill in the distance…

…and the country road that rolls between two green fields.

It’s a reflection of a lesson I’ve learned over and over again: You get to choose what you focus on. Find the good and look there. Enjoy it, sit with it, and more will come to join it.

Moving abroad isn’t always graceful. Sometimes you’re standing in a parking lot holding your phone, waiting for the taxi you booked in advance that is running thirty minutes late while your child runs circles around you.

But you figure it out. And somewhere in the figuring it out, you find your footing in a place that slowly starts to feel like home.

Have you navigated moving logistics in a foreign country? I’d love to hear what helped you in the comments.

About Worldschooling Mama Network

We’re seven worldschooling mothers sharing our journeys of family, travel, and entrepreneurship. Each week, one mama pulls back the curtain on life on the road — stories of adventure, curiosity, and the messy, beautiful realities of raising children while building lives and businesses beyond the default. Our mission is to inspire, connect, and show that your “someday” can become a “when.”

Learn more about us and meet all seven mamas →

Lilly, my older daughter, had slept almost the whole twelve-hour ride on the sleeper bus. She woke the moment I moved the curtain, and immediately asked, eyes still half-closed: “Are we in Da Lat?”

Yes, I told her. We are.

We stumbled out as a family of four, squeezing down the tight aisle, bags bumping against the seats. We stepped off the bus into something that stopped us all in our tracks.

Cool air. Crisp and thin, the way mountain air is. After months of coastal heat, it landed on our skin like a small gift. There were flowers everywhere — lining the road, tucked into planters, cascading over walls in colors I hadn’t expected. The hills rose up around us, quiet and green. Christian and I looked at each other.

It was a petrol station. Nothing special.

And yet all four of us felt it. That wordless sense of: yes. Here.

I believe every place has an energy. And I’ve learned, over three and a half years of moving through the world as a family, that some places call to you before you fully understand why. You just feel the pull. And if you’ve learned to trust it — really trust it — you follow.

The first time I understood this was Portugal.

We had set off from Switzerland in autumn, bicycle-touring as a family of three. Lilly was ten months old, watching the world go by from her trailer, bundled in layers as the weather turned. We cycled south through France, across to Morocco, through Spain — five months of pedaling into the unknown, panniers, backpacks, duffle bags and the trailer our entire world. We met the most extraordinary people. We were met with kindness, over and over, in places we least expected it. We got very close as a family, the way you do when there is no buffer between you and the elements, no routine to hide behind.

Portugal came up on the radar almost casually. We weren’t sure why. But we followed the feeling.

When we arrived — January, bone cold, the kind of cold that gets into Portuguese stone buildings just as easily as it gets into tents — and I saw those cliffs for the first time, the enormous waves crashing below them, all that raw Atlantic drama, something in me exhaled very deeply. We had done it. Five months with a baby in a bicycle trailer, and we had arrived somewhere that felt like a reward for listening.

Portugal showed us something else, too. There were families living alternative lives everywhere we looked. Communities, gatherings, people who had quietly stepped off the expected path and built something different. We didn’t know that world existed before that trip. It changed us. It widened what we thought was possible for ourselves. And I have always wondered whether that was the real reason Portugal called us — not just the cliffs, not just the beauty, but because we needed to see that we were not alone in the way we were choosing to live.

We loved Portugal so much we returned a second time, as a family of four after Lua was born. But that is a story for another letter.

Da Lat called us the same way. More quietly, but just as clearly.

We first heard of it when we had just arrived in Hoi An — a city in the mountains, cool mornings and evenings, natural beauty all around. Something in me leaned towards it immediately. Hoi An was full of color and connection and activity, and I am grateful for all of it. But I had been feeling a particular kind of overwhelm that I couldn’t quite name, a low-level restlessness, a longing for something slower and more grounding.

I needed somewhere to breathe. And Da Lat felt like the answer.

The twelve-hour sleeper bus there was something I had been nervous about. Mountainous roads, two sleeping toddlers, the particular dread I have always had of nausea on winding routes. But Lua announced several times throughout the night how much she was enjoying herself. Lilly slept almost the whole way. And when we stepped off at that petrol station in the early morning, put on our sweaters, and breathed in that cold mountain air — I knew we had been right to follow the feeling.

Something turned on in me. Like a light switch. The kind you don’t realize has been off until suddenly the room is bright again.

Since arriving, I’ve returned to my Taiji QiGong practice — something I found it so hard to build into my schedule in Hoi An. My body has been unclenching. Our family has found a rhythm again. We found a beautiful apartment to ground ourselves in for the coming weeks.

The worldschooling community here is smaller than Hoi An — and I say that knowing there are very few places in the world with a community as large as Hoi An’s. But after an extended season of daily socialization, there is something our family needed in this quieter pace. Time to come back to ourselves. Time to remember who we are when it is just the four of us. We have already met a few wonderful families here, and there is enough space to actually get to know each other slowly, which feels like its own kind of gift.

We have found our place. Or perhaps this place found us.

People often ask us how we decide where to go next.

The honest answer is: both logic and instinct, in conversation with each other.

The practical questions come first. What is the cost of living? What does rent look like — electricity, water, a mobile plan? Where are the markets? Are there playgrounds? Cafés to work from? Is it a city or a town, mountains or coastline? Can we walk to things, or do we need transportation? Are there other nomadic families nearby? Anything particularly interesting for Lilly and Lua to explore or learn?

We rarely plan more than a month or two ahead. Sometimes three, in rare cases. We talk to other nomadic families. We gather possibilities. And then, over several conversations, we feel into what seems right — not just on paper, but in our bodies. What do we actually need right now? Where does something light up when we say the name out loud?

This way of moving through the world will never give you certainty. But it has surprised us, over and over, in ways we could never have planned for. Some of the most important things this life has given us — the community in Portugal, the stillness of Da Lat, the deep closeness we have built as a family through the discomfort of constant newness — none of it would have arrived if we had needed to know the reason before we took the step.

Over three and a half years, we have visited fourteen countries across three continents. Six of them twice. Some revisited for family or dear friends, and some simply because certain places suit us — and the moving itself has become a kind of practice. Every transition asks us to look at what we own, what we carry, what we actually need. A regular decluttering, not just of our things but of our lives. We have come to find this ritual deeply healing.

Many people ask us when we will settle. Honestly? We don’t know yet. And for now, we don’t feel like it. The movement continues to give us something the stillness hasn’t offered — at least not yet.

As for where we go after Da Lat, I have a rough sense of the shape of it. But I will let that reveal itself in time.

For now, we are here. The mornings are cool and quiet. The flowers are everywhere. My Taiji QiGong practice is back.

We have found our place. Or this place has found us.

May you always be in flow.

With love and joy,
Connie 💛

About Worldschooling Mama Network

We’re seven worldschooling mothers sharing our journeys of family, travel, and entrepreneurship. Each week, one mama pulls back the curtain on life on the road — stories of adventure, curiosity, and the messy, beautiful realities of raising children while building lives and businesses beyond the default. Our mission is to inspire, connect, and show that your “someday” can become a “when.”

Learn more about us and meet all seven mamas →

Last week our family descended on this historic corner of Italy for our latest pop up hub. We had nearly fifteen families with us including a brilliant crew of kids ranging from toddlers to young teens.

To say we experienced Naples would be an understatement because we navigated the logistics together and somewhat begrudgingly fell in love with the spirit of the place. We dealt with slow buses and closed metros while navigating streets that often felt more like a motorcycle race circuit than a sidewalk!

We managed to squeeze the absolute best out of the region despite the chaos. Capri, Pompeii and more!

From the ancient streets of Pompeii to the deep underground caves of the city itself we were constantly transported through time. The days were full but ever more important were the friendships made along the way.

This trip also marked our first reciprocal home exchange which added a whole new layer of local immersion to the experience. While this family enjoyed our apartment in Sevilla we settled into their beautiful space in Naples.

It was located in an older building with a giant metal key that looked like it belonged in a Harry Potter film but the place itself was lovely and local!

Even though it was not in the center of the city it was easy enough to navigate using the train and our hosts even left us a jar of delicious homemade jam to welcome us.

Embracing home exchange is one of my favorite travel strategies because the money we saved on lodging in the city meant we could splurge on three nights along the Amalfi coast before the pop up started. We found a simple place with a stunning view and breakfast and dinner included for 200 euros a night.

The weather was perfect and we quickly learned that the best way to enjoy the coast was to escape the crazy roads and head into the hills. We spent our days exploring ancient protected fern forests and climbing hundreds of steps to find those iconic ocean views that make the region so famous.

The highlight of the entire week was sitting down for a lunch of fresh pizza served under a canopy of lemon trees in Amalfi. The lemons were truly amazing and that afternoon provided the quiet rest we needed before our worldschooling adventures.

Hosting can be both wonderful for a trip planner like myself but also a lot of work! But I do it for the amazing families from many different countries who are willing to step in and help each other. Our group bonded quickly while the kids played soccer in the plazas or worked together to solve an escape room.

While they were swimming to volcanic rocks the parents were doing some bonding of our own over chilled glasses of limoncello. This is exactly why I love pop ups. It is about a shared journey where we learn from one another and grow together while experiencing the very best of a local culture.

Have you checked out a worldschool pop up hub yet? There are so many coming up including ours in Osaka, Japan this October 11-17, 2026.

And if you’re interested in Home Exchange, I’ve shared some tips in this article. Let me know if you have questions!

Until next time, keep exploring! ~Suzy May

About Worldschooling Mama Network

We’re seven worldschooling mothers sharing our journeys of family, travel, and entrepreneurship. Each week, one mama pulls back the curtain on life on the road — stories of adventure, curiosity, and the messy, beautiful realities of raising children while building lives and businesses beyond the default. Our mission is to inspire, connect, and show that your “someday” can become a “when.”

Learn more about us and meet all seven mamas →

Yesterday, I was recording a get-ready-with-me video for social media, after getting my daughters dressed and ready for the park. I don’t often get ready, but I was feeling myself and wanted to put on some makeup.

My daughters are 5 and almost 4, and they love sitting in the bathroom with me as I get ready. I let them put some lipstick on, we were having a great time…

The girls disappeared into the next room while I finished getting ready. I peek my head out the door to see my 3yo has taken off all her clothes and is climbing up the side of their bunkbed.

Unfortunately, I am currently in my luteal phase, and my patience does not exist. We were about to leave. I naively thought I could peacefully get ready that morning.

There are 2 kinds of meltdowns that parents experience:

1. Your child is throwing a tantrum, and that triggers you into having a tantrum yourself.

2. Your children are perfectly content but doing the most unhinged things and not listening to you, and you lose your shit.

This was a number 2 situation.

I was too overwhelmed, and I started to yell at her.

You can watch the whole thing. I can not believe I got this on camera. Click your preferred social media platform to watch it: Instagram | TikTok | YouTube

I stopped myself before totally crashing out. I paused, took a few deep breaths, and regulated myself.

No one taught me how to stay calm or to be gentle with my children.

It came naturally to me after more than a decade of regularly practicing yoga. Staying calm, being kind, having empathy, and self control are some of the wonderful skills yoga has taught me.

I am not perfect. As you can see in that video, I sometimes do lose my shit. But instead of crashing out and making my children feel like shit for acting like children, I know how to gain control of myself.

My daughters deserve peace and safety, and when I am shouting at them, they do not feel safe.

It’s my job to regulate myself AND my girls; they are not capable of regulating themselves. The same way my little ones need me to read books for them, because they don’t yet know how to read, those girls need me to regulate their nervous system because they don’t have those skills yet.

Unfortunately, many adults still lack the ability to regulate themselves; that’s why you see grown adults screaming at people. Their parents most definitely screamed at them when they were children, for behaving like children, and now they crash out and scream when they are upset. Violence stems from parents who were not able to stay calm and coregulate their children.

Some parents screamed, and others went further and hurt their children in other ways. Those children grew into sad or violent adults.

It is so important for you to learn how to calm down, not to fight fire with fire, and scream at your children. Nothing good can come from a mother screaming at her children. It escalates every situation.

If you feel yourself getting triggered by your child’s behavior, you need to calm yourself down before reacting. Step into another room if you can. Close your eyes if you can’t.

Take deep breaths, remember that they are just little, they are not bad, they are still learning how to be a person.

Treat your children with unconditional love and kindness. They deserve it.

And when you do lose your shit, because you are a human and you are not perfect, please apologize to your child. They need to hear you admit when you are wrong and understand that it is not their fault when you behave badly.

If you don’t take accountability for harming your children when you lose your shit on them, they won’t learn how to take accountability when they make mistakes.

You will also teach them that love looks like being screamed at and not feeling safe, which can lead them into abusive relationships as adults. It really is that serious.

It’s not okay to scream at your children or to cause them harm in any way. The way you treat your children will shape their future. It is your job to teach them kindness and make sure they feel safe.

Regularly practicing yoga makes staying calm and coregulating your children a million times easier. If I am in a bad mood, my 5 year old will say, “Mama you forgot to do yoga.”

Practicing yoga has a noticeable impact on how I parent and how I react to anything that comes my way in life.

Before having kids, I was practicing yoga alone every morning for about an hour, and occasionally going to yoga classes. Since becoming a single mother, this is completely impossible. There is no chance I will have an hour to myself on any morning, and I can’t leave my kids to go to a yoga class.

Even scrolling through YouTube for a free class doesn’t work; the number of times I end up pausing the video because my kids are being feral makes it not worth it. Those free classes just are not designed for on duty mothers, and I am on duty 24/7.

Now I practice yoga throughout my day, a few minutes here and there, with my daughters right next to me. If I sit down on my mat for yoga, it’s gonna be less than 20 minutes, and I am definetly not alone.

Yoga helps me stay calm in the chaos of motherhood, it helps me feel stronger and more confident in my body, I have reconnected to who I am outside of “mama,” and certain yoga practices help me feel more rested (I haven’t had a single uninterrupted night of sleep since 2020).

If you wanna try some yoga practices designed for mothers, click here ♡

I’m sure I am gonna lose my shit again, I am not perfect. But at least I know how to calm myself down and repair with my kids. I apologize. I make sure they know they are always safe with me. I tell them how much I love them every day.

Being a mother is not easy; being a single mother who works online and is worldschooling her children is not easy.

But raising my kids with kindness makes every day more beautiful, and every hard moment worth it.

I am proud of how I parent, and I can see my children mirror the way I treat them in the way they treat people.

As parents, we get to create the future. Is it going to be one full of kindness or one full of violence?

I hope you choose kindness.

With Love,

Bryanna

About Worldschooling Mama Network

We’re seven worldschooling mothers sharing our journeys of family, travel, and entrepreneurship. Each week, one mama pulls back the curtain on life on the road — stories of adventure, curiosity, and the messy, beautiful realities of raising children while building lives and businesses beyond the default. Our mission is to inspire, connect, and show that your “someday” can become a “when.”

Learn more about us and meet all seven mamas →

So let’s do this.

The plan. The actual one. Housing, schools for the kids, where I’m going to open my laptop and pretend I’m a person who has a morning routine — all of it. Plus the income piece, because that’s the only reason any of this is possible and we’re not going to skip past it like it isn’t the whole thing.

But first — the question.

I’m in a dozen worldschooling Facebook groups. The main one alone has nearly 70,000 members. And I promise you, in every single one of them, the most pinned, most commented, most DMed post is some version of:

“But how do you actually pay for this?”

Every. Single. Week.

You’ve seen it. Maybe you’ve posted it. I know I’ve thought it approximately one thousand times at midnight while Googling destinations I wasn’t sure I could afford.

Here’s the thing nobody says out loud: it doesn’t matter if your dream is Japan or Portugal or Bali or just a summer somewhere with your kids actually present instead of on screens. The income problem is the same everywhere.

The destination is just personal.

So before I share what I have on the spreadsheet so far, here’s where I actually started. Not with a business plan. Not with a vision board. With one prompt in the middle of the night with snacks.

"I'm a mom who wants to generate location-independent income but I'm not sure what to offer. Here's what I know how to do: [list 5–10 things you're good at — paid or unpaid, doesn't matter]. Here's who I naturally help or talk to: [describe your people]. Here's what I realistically have time for: [hours per week]. Based on this, give me 3 specific income ideas I could start in the next 30 days, ranked by how fast they could generate cash. For each one, tell me who would pay for it and what I'd charge."

Put your real life in. Get a real starting point out.

I had been spinning on this for weeks. One conversation and I had a direction I hadn’t considered — and once I saw it, it was obvious.

Listen, only you know what’s best for you and your family but AI is definitely faster at organizing your thoughts. Take advantage of that.

Okay. the plan…

THE JAPAN DRAFT PLAN (FALL 2026)

A family of five. Three kids. One mom who still has to work.

A few things worth saying out loud:

On housing — the platforms in the table do the heavy lifting. Apartment Japan specifically was built for foreigners — no guarantor, no agency fees, English support the whole way through. You can lock in your place before you land. I did not know this was possible until I asked Claude at midnight. Need to verify but I will share my findings and keep it 100 here.

On the kids — our plan is probably a mix. Structured drop-off a few mornings a week and the rest worldschooling the actual way. Temples. Markets. Figuring out what things are called. My youngest will be going to a Japanese daycare and I’m going to cry about it in the best way possible.

On coworking — I need a real place to work or this whole plan falls apart, let's be honest. BLINK in Roppongi sounds like my everyday spot — $7 drop-in, rooftop, bilingual staff, very much giving I got my shit together energy. And when I need to feel like a Momboss? Share Lounge. 39th floor. Shibuya. The views are unhinged and I will be unbothered up there.

The thing I want you to take from this

I built this plan not because I have it figured out — I very much do not — but because building the plan is what makes it real. It stops being a dream and starts being a logistics problem. And logistics problems are solvable.

You don’t need a $30K program. You need a plan you keep refining, a few good platforms, and income you can generate from anywhere.

The prompt above is where I started on the income piece. Try it this week. And when something comes up — drop it in the comments or DM me. I read every single one, and what you’re figuring out right now is shaping exactly what I build next.

Somewhere in Japan this fall, a family of five is eating ramen for breakfast or BSin at Super Mario World lol.

The plan just got better.

LET’S F’IN GO.

About Worldschooling Mama Network

We’re seven worldschooling mothers sharing our journeys of family, travel, and entrepreneurship. Each week, one mama pulls back the curtain on life on the road — stories of adventure, curiosity, and the messy, beautiful realities of raising children while building lives and businesses beyond the default. Our mission is to inspire, connect, and show that your “someday” can become a “when.”

Learn more about us and meet all seven mamas →

A lone face in a sea of masks.

That was me on multiple occasions at the height of the panic.

When the world went crazy, I was living in Bulgaria. I had been there off and on for a few years and enjoyed it so much I decided to stay. The residency process for a non-EU citizen was a complicated one, which required several trips in and out of the country. I had an appointment at the Bulgarian Embassy in Berlin when…BAM!: lockdown.

Suddenly I was trapped. Alone in a new city, six borders away from my apartment….for an indeterminate amount of time….with just a suitcase. Flights were being canceled. Borders were closing. It was unclear what was going to happen. But you could sense it wasn’t good.

I needed to find a place to stay, and fast. But I had no idea how long I would be stuck there. How long was this thing going to last? A few weeks? Months? Would I even get to return to my apartment? There was no way to know.

In the face of so much uncertainty, it would be easy to lose one’s head. I could see what was happening all around me, around the world, and I knew people were scared. Some were genuinely scared of the virus itself. (I never was.) Some were scared of the government response to it. Or the mob mentality being pushed so hard by the media. Not to mention the widespread violation of human rights and the economic aftermath. There was plenty of fear to go around.

I could see the wave of restrictions coming before it even hit land. And I knew I had no control over what was coming. Not the government decrees. Not the people’s response to it.

I could let myself get sucked into the fear. I could drown myself in social media and dig a deep hole of despair for myself. (Plenty of people did.) But what good would that do, for me or anyone?

I couldn’t control what was going on around me. But I could control what was going on inside of me. I knew my focus was my greatest superpower.

So I decided to BE the change I wanted to see. I can’t share something with others I don’t have myself. So I practiced cultivating peace. I meditated. I sunbathed. I tapped. I listened to Abraham Hicks.

I took daily walks in whatever neighborhood I was staying in that week. Not because I needed anything necessarily, but because I could.

Once the mask mandates started, the compliance rate in Germany was (predictably) high. There were many times mine was the only naked face in the entire area. So I made sure that face was wearing a smile.

Whenever I saw another brave soul breaking the rules, I would flash them a huge smile, often receiving one in return. It’s impossible to know how many smiles I may have inspired that were hidden from me. But that didn’t matter.

I wanted to show people there was nothing to be afraid of. That wearing a mask was a choice, not an obligation. That not everyone who chose not to wear one was a bad person. That normalcy was still possible.

I was not welcome everywhere. Many shops dutifully enforced the government mandates and, consequently, lost my business. I didn’t pick a fight. I simply left, and made a point to inform them why.

But there were always exceptions. Smaller, local shops that were more than happy to serve me. That genuinely appreciated my business and treated me with respect. When I found such a gem, I would often end up spending more than I had originally planned, just because it was such a joy to give them my money.

When people asked me why I didn’t wear a mask, I told them the truth: I didn’t have one. If they asked me why I didn’t have one, I was brutally honest: Because I don’t participate in political theater.

Masks continue to pop up in the news every so often. To any rational human being this is utterly insane, as the last five years have clearly shown how useless they are. (The data is quite clear.) To many, this signals the coming of more lockdowns, or some other kind of mass psychosis. People fear the madness may return. And many still hold trauma from the first time.

One group in particular has good reason to fear the future: young people. The world seems stacked against them in so many ways, increasingly so these last five years. Lockdown trauma. Inflation. Another war. What kind of world are we leaving them? And how will they handle it?

Before I moved abroad, I was a public school teacher. I taught teenagers with special needs for over ten years, supporting hundreds of students in a variety of ways. Academics was the least of it.

SO many high school students have unmet social-emotional needs. Adolescence is already an extremely anxious time. The transition to adulthood is scary enough without the weight of world affairs compounding it. So much uncertainty. So much anxiety.

If there’s one thing my lockdown experience taught me, it was how to get real comfortable with uncertainty. To take life as it comes. To focus only on what is within my control.

That kind of resilience, to adapt to challenges without fearing them, is something today’s young people desperately need.

To that end, I am creating my first ever mental health masterclass for young adults. A safe, judgment-free space where they will learn the skills necessary to manage their own mental health. I’m calling it Consciously Free.

If you have or know of a teen who needs this, please share your interest by joining the waitlist.

As we get older, we are taught so many ways to deviate from this state. Usually by the very people who are supposed to (and often do) want the best for us: our parents, our teachers, our friends. They project their own fears and doubts onto the next generation, sending mixed and often confusing messages, all in an effort to keep young people “safe.”

Many people would have felt trapped in my lockdown situation. Held captive. Alone. But deep in my heart I knew it would pass. (All things do.) So I used it as an opportunity to grow. To be an example of how to live free in a seemingly unfree world.

Far too often people create prisons in their own mind. Ruled by their emotions, their biases, their beliefs. I want to teach young people how to break those chains. To gain the knowledge and tools to find their own peace. And the freedom to choose the life they want.

That’s exactly what this whole worldschooling movement is doing for families. And it’s so very beautiful. 💞

About Worldschooling Mama Network

We’re seven worldschooling mothers sharing our journeys of family, travel, and entrepreneurship. Each week, one mama pulls back the curtain on life on the road — stories of adventure, curiosity, and the messy, beautiful realities of raising children while building lives and businesses beyond the default. Our mission is to inspire, connect, and show that your “someday” can become a “when.”

Learn more about us and meet all seven mamas →

This is still the comment we receive the most — after three and a half years of living this way.

I understand it. I would probably say the same.

But what strikes me every time is how much that phrase reveals about what most people can’t yet picture: that this isn’t a trip. It’s just our life. And our life, most of the time, looks something like this.

It’s a Thursday morning in Hoi An, Vietnam.

Christian is in the shared kitchen making breakfast alongside other parents — the soft sounds of pans, murmured conversation, someone’s toddler underfoot. I’m in our room getting the girls ready. Lua’s diaper. Lilly’s hair. The two small braids she has decided she wants every single day this week.

We sleep with both doors closed at night so the mosquitoes don’t find us. But in the morning, we open them both — one onto the pool, one into the common living area — and let the air move through. The room breathes. So do we.

By the time breakfast is on the table, the other kids have already appeared. Someone chases Lilly through our room, in one door, out the other, around and around the pool. Lua tries to follow, laughing while running. The day is already warm. Someone suggests jumping in the pool. Someone else mentions a café with a play area near the old town. We say, yes, let’s go.

That’s it. That’s the morning.

No itinerary. No tickets booked six weeks in advance. No alarm set for a museum opening.

Just a family, two open doors, and the particular luxury of a day that unfolds by feel.

People imagine long-term family travel as one long, expensive, logistically heroic vacation.

It is none of those things.

In Vietnam right now, we eat lunch and dinner out every day — because eating locally costs less than US$5 for all four of us per meal. In Switzerland, that wouldn’t cover one coffee. In New Jersey, where we visited last year in the autumn, rent alone was US$4,000 a month. Our large studio in Bulgaria last summer was €400. The math, once you see it, is hard to unsee.

This isn’t a lifestyle reserved for the wealthy.

It’s a lifestyle that requires you to think differently about what a home costs, and what a life can look like. Since we no longer have a base home, the only accommodation costs we have are the ones we use for renting in each location.

Between the four of us, here is what we carry:

One large suitcase. One large duffle bag. One small duffle bag. Two adult backpacks. Two kids’ backpacks. And a bicycle trailer that doubles as a stroller — checked free as kids’ luggage on every flight — because nothing ends a whining spiral faster than being able to roll two tired children through an airport at 10pm.

We have clothes for all four seasons. A sling carrier Lua is slowly growing out of. Tupperware. Camping bowls. The frying pan spatula Christian rescued from our kitchen in Thailand and refused to leave behind. A portable camping chair he has carried across three continents.

And zip-lock bags of spices. This one always surprises people. But have you ever tried to cook without spices in a place where you don’t know yet where to find them? Even the kids refuse the food then.

I also carry a painting. A gift from my friend Tracy — a sequence of our Taiji QiGong practice, rendered in Chinese ink. It goes up on a wall or a wardrobe door in every single place we stay. It was one of the first things I unpacked in our current room.

Which is how I know, when I don’t unpack it, that something is wrong.

We arrived in Hoi An late and exhausted, airport-creased, the girls already half-asleep in the taxi. Our host — a Vietnamese man with no English, just a phone translator held between us like a bridge — helped carry our luggage up to the second floor.

The room was spacious. I noticed that first.

Then I noticed the smell.

Damp. Stale. The particular heaviness of a room that hasn’t been properly aired. I found a teapot on the dresser, still holding tea bags, clouded with mold. Oh no, I thought. It’s one of these places. The shelving under the sink was grimy. The cupboard doors, when I opened them, felt wrong to touch.

It was late. I put the girls to bed.

And then I didn’t unpack.

Not the next day either. Not for a week.

This is not like me. Normally it takes me thirty minutes — everything finds its place, the room becomes ours, we settle. But I couldn’t bring myself to put our things against those surfaces. So we lived out of our bags, digging for clean socks, searching for Lua’s diaper cream, nothing where it should be. Unsettled in the most physical sense of the word.

My body knew before I did.

The situation came to a standstill just before Vietnamese New Year — the owner’s sister acknowledged, with unexpected grace, that perhaps it wasn’t working for either of us. A refund was offered. We were free to go.

It was chaotic timing. Tết meant almost everywhere was booked. Three families, scrambling together in holiday traffic.

But underneath the logistics, I felt something unexpected.

Relief.

Not just from leaving that room. From being released from the guilt of leaving — the money, the commitment, the feeling that I should be able to make it work. When the door closed behind us, I felt the air in my lungs change.

We found our current place a few days later. Ground floor. Pool on one side. Common living space on the other. Other families. A shared kitchen that actually gets cleaned. It was just down the street from the last accommodation.

Tracy’s painting went straight up on the wall.

Now. I want to speak to something directly.

Because if you are a mother reading this from a home you have lived in for years, quietly turning this kind of life over in your mind, I suspect there are two fears sitting just beneath the surface.

The first is about your children.

Will they be okay? Will they miss out? Will I be taking something away from them by not giving them the stability of one place, one school, one set of friends down the street?

Yesterday, I was at a hotel pool with Lilly and Lua. Other families we knew were there. Kids playing together. And still — Lilly, four and a half years old, swam over to me while I was mid-conversation with another mother and said: Mama, swim with me.

Not the other kids. Me.

It stopped me. Because in that moment I realized — it probably wouldn’t matter much whether we were in Vietnam or New Jersey or anywhere else. What she needs most, at this age, is my presence. My actual, unhurried, phone-down presence.

Lua showed me the same thing. We thought she was ready for playgroup. But after a few sessions, she started resisting. Crying when Christian dropped them off. Pulling at his hand. I want to play with you, Papa.

So we stopped sending her. And she is happy.

What I am learning — slowly, imperfectly — is that routines and security are not things that live inside walls. They live inside us. They can be built anywhere. What our children need most, they need from us — and we can give them that in Hoi An just as well as anywhere else.

The second fear is about yourself.

Will I fall apart without my familiar life around me? Without my support system, my routines, my sense of who I am when I’m not navigating the unknown?

Here is what I have discovered.

My needs are exactly the same wherever I am. I need movement. I need beauty. I need time that is mine. I need to feel like myself inside my own body.

A few weeks ago, Lua woke crying at 4am. I settled her back down — just a sip of water — but couldn’t find sleep again myself. So I walked to the beach to practice my Taiji QiGong.

I wasn’t expecting company.

But Hoi An was already awake.

Joggers running where the waves met the sand. Groups of Vietnamese women walking together, talking, laughing in the dark. And out at sea, the fishing boats — still far from shore, their small blue lights blinking slowly across the water, making their way home.

I found my spot and began to move.

And as I practiced, the sky changed. Black softened into pink. Pink into orange. Orange into gold, then white. The boats grew closer. The voices around me rose with the light.

This is what I am learning about Vietnam. Life here begins before dawn. Homes are also businesses — restaurants, clinics, cafés — front doors open before the city stirs. Flowers arranged by 6am. Lanterns already lit. People helping each other, building a good life for their families in the only way they know how.

There is something in that I recognize deeply.

The location changes. The needs don’t.

We are at home here. Not because this is our country or our culture. But because we are also just a family, figuring out how to build something — a life, a business, a sense of belonging — one day at a time.

Tracy’s painting is on the wall.

The doors are open.

We are home.

If something in this resonates — if there’s a version of this life you’ve been quietly turning over in your mind — I’d love to know where you are with it. What’s the one thing that feels like the biggest obstacle? Leave it in the comments. You might be surprised how many others are sitting with the same question.

Leave a comment

May you always be in flow.

With love and joy,
Connie 💛

About Worldschooling Mama Network

We’re seven worldschooling mothers sharing our journeys of family, travel, and entrepreneurship. Each week, one mama pulls back the curtain on life on the road — stories of adventure, curiosity, and the messy, beautiful realities of raising children while building lives and businesses beyond the default. Our mission is to inspire, connect, and show that your “someday” can become a “when.”

Learn more about us and meet all seven mamas →

By strategically renting out your primary residence, you can transition from “I could never do that” to “Our house just paid for our hotel in Spain”. The core of this strategy is what I call the The Expense Swap.

When your homebase housing costs are covered, you are only responsible for your travel accommodation costs. Once you combine that with remote income or a large savings pot, your travel can really take you to some amazing places for less!

Based on the rental laws in your area, you can use a mix of short-term rentals and mid-term furnished stays. Our family has successfully covered our housing costs at home while helping to fund our global adventures.

We first tried it out on a two-month test trip to Canada in 2022. While we explored nature and parks, our Denver, Colorado home was rented out on Airbnb, bringing in over $6,000. Because we only spent $5,000 on lodging during our trip, it was actually cheaper for us to travel than to stay in our own home for the summer.

This financial win allowed us to fine-tune our systems and eventually move to Spain for a full school year. When you realize your dollar goes further in places like Southeast Asia or Latin America, that rental income becomes the engine that funds your family’s dreams.

Navigating the Worst-Case Scenarios

I won’t tell you it’s all easy though! Remote property management sounds like a recipe for a panic attack for a reason. I’ve lived through the stress, including a sewage leak that flooded our basement just days before we were scheduled to move to Spain. We had to gut the basement and rebuild it, but we figured it out (everything can be figured out!)!

I also learned the hard way about tenant vetting after a mid-term guest caused damage to our property during a personal dispute. While it was frustrating to deal with broken cabinets and repair costs, it taught me the importance of professional verification and, more importantly, practicing non-attachment to stuff.

Should You Rent or Sell?

Deciding whether to rent or sell is a major life-design decision that goes beyond just the numbers. Keeping your home and renting it out makes sense if you love the location, have a manageable mortgage, and plan to return after a defined duration.

On the other hand, selling might be the next right decision if you have high equity you need to access, high mortgage costs that rent won’t cover, or zero desire to return to the area. There is no single correct answer, but renting offers a unique opportunity to recoup home-based expenses and see if long-term travel is the lifestyle for you.

Your Roadmap to Freedom

Because I want you to stress less and travel longer, your preparation will include these various decisions:

• Licensure and legal ramifications and proper home insurance protection

• Smart tech setup you need to run your home from afar

• Turnover cleaning checklists and quality cleaning services

• Support team of repair professionals and ‘on the ground’ help you can call

• Tenant screening criteria and creating a lease

• Letting your neighbors know and having them on your side

• Marketing (and professional photos!) on platforms like Airbnb and Furnished Finder

• Tracking all expenses and income for tax purposes

There is a lot of upfront work but once the systems are in place, it becomes much easier! A test trip, even just for a weekend, is a great way to get started!

If you’re not quite ready to rent your home out, consider putting it up on Home Exchange or People Like Us to join the amazing world of home exchange!

These are often travelers who aren’t as picky as Airbnb guests but you can still benefit but traveling to cool locations using your swaps or Guest Points! I include more information on these options in this article.

And if you are interested in learning more about renting your home out while you travel, listen to Episode 45 of the Wander Worldschool podcast to learn more and pick up the e-book that details everything you need to know!

Tell me, have you ever rented your home out while traveling? What questions do you have? What do you need to know to rent your home out?

Important Disclaimer: I am a Certified Financial Educator but I am not your personal money coach. Please consult with a CPA or real estate attorney in your area for your specific situation.

About Worldschooling Mama Network

We’re seven worldschooling mothers sharing our journeys of family, travel, and entrepreneurship. Each week, one mama pulls back the curtain on life on the road — stories of adventure, curiosity, and the messy, beautiful realities of raising children while building lives and businesses beyond the default. Our mission is to inspire, connect, and show that your “someday” can become a “when.”

Learn more about us and meet all seven mamas →

Everyone from my hometown thought I was completely insane when at 19 years old I spent my summer traveling alone. First to Miami to sign a lease on my very first apartment, I was starting at FIU in the Fall.

Shortly after returning to New Jersey, I boarded a flight to Italy, flying to a continent where I knew nobody. An old man sitting next to me on my flight offered to drive me to my hostel, I told him I had seen the movie taken and took the bus.

After walking for 30 minutes in the wrong direction, with my overpacked backpack dragging me down, I finally made it to my hostel in Rome and instantly fell in love.

I spent a week there exploring the city with my dorm mates, going to the bar every night and having the most wonderful adventure.

This is where I learned that people travel indefinitely, without plans. I had never heard of that before, and if I had before planning out my summer and committing to move to Miami in the Fall, I would have stayed traveling forever.

After a week in Rome, I took the train down the coast to Sperlonga for a yoga retreat with my idol Lesley Fightmaster. We became friends, and I eventually would travel to California, where she would train me as a yoga teacher ♡

I flew home from Italy, got in my car and drove myself 9 hours from New Jersey to Montreal, Canada. I stayed at a lovely hostel and met 2 other girls who were also going to the Red Hot Chili Peppers concert, and made it to the front row with them (instead of sitting a mile from the stage like my ticket said).

We had some really fun nights out, remember I was 19 from the USA so this was the first summer I could get into bars without using my fake ID. I also hiked up Mount Royal alone to practice yoga at the top! At the time I was really into running & i tried to run all the way up the mountain and ended up falling on my face lol.

I drove the 9 hours back to New Jersey, repacked my backpack, and took a flight to Bangkok. I spent the next month backpacking Thailand, saw all the people who were just floating there, traveling freely, tethered to nothing.

I didn’t have a lot of money and was moving to Miami when I got home, but I realized then that I truly wanted to be free. To float around the world, living out of my backpack and staying in hostels.

I never knew this was possible until I saw it for myself, and it was all I wanted.

After my life-changing month in Thailand, I packed my childhood bedroom into my Hyundai Elantra and drove to Miami. I loved my apartment next to campus, I had a lovely balcony and watched the sunrise over downtown Miami every morning. I watched the rainstorms travel around the city every afternoon.

After a year, I decided to take all my classes online and moved to Brickell with my friend. We had the cutest little pink apartment right in the city. I spent all day getting stoned, skateboarding around downtown Miami, and walking dogs as my job.

While I lived there, I travelled to California twice for my yoga teacher training with Lesley Fightmaster and spent 6 weeks backpacking Nicaragua over 2 trips.

When my lease was up, I decided it was time to start backpacking full time, to finally be completely untethered, to live my dream.

Unfortunately, this was in 2019, so after some beautiful months backpacking around Mexico, (with a trip to California in the middle) the world ended, and I went home to New Jersey with my kitten Bengali, who I found in Mexico.

Thankfully, my parents love Bengali as much as I do. In May of 2020, I flew to Montana to live in a van with a girl I met on Instagram. Bengali stayed with my parents.

We had the absolute best time together, after a few nights camping right outside of Glacier National Park - we couldn’t go inside because it was still under lockdown - we drove through Idaho, to Washington, and down the coast to Oregon.

On the side of the road in Oregon is where we met the Cowboy and his dog Dani. He followed us to California, where we camped next to the beach with a big group of travelers for a week. Bonfires on the beach every night, shared meals on our little camp stove, songs around the fire. It was magical.

Now we were traveling in a caravan with our beach friends, into the Redwood forest. We stopped in a town to do laundry, and it was very hard to find a bathroom because of lockdowns.

Some guys we met outside of the laundromat said we could use the bathroom in their motel room, so my friend & I followed them. The motel room was full of puppies, and one of the men offered us some homemade LSD.

My friend said no, but I stuck out my tongue and took a whole dropper full.

While I was tripping, completely out of this reality, the cowboy convinced me to move all of my stuff out of her van and into his Mustang, and we drove off into the sunset.

Trigger Warning: Domestic Violence

What felt like a romantic adventure at the time was actually a beautiful lie, the cowboy was a monster and would spend the next 2 years abusing me.

We drove from San Francisco to Lake Tahoe to Las Vegas before he had his first breakdown, told me he hated me, and wanted to leave me stranded there.

He decided to drive home to his family farm in Texas, and I was so confused that I cried in his car the whole way there. We drove right past the Grand Canyon, but he refused to stop.

In a week, his behavior got us kicked off his parents’ farm, so we got back on the road. We went to Houston & Dallas, we camped in Oklahoma, and spent a few weeks at an Airbnb in New Orleans.

It looked like we were having an incredible adventure, he told me he loved me, and asked me to tell him everything about myself.

Then he would use stories I told him about my life as reasons why I was a horrible person. Twist everything I told him to make me believe that I was a worthless piece of shit.

He would scream at me and then call me crazy and say it never happened.

I thought I was the problem. I thought I was crazy.

I wanted to move back to Mexico, to see my friends and live on the beach. I flew to New Jersey to get Bengali, and then we took Dani the dog and Bengali the cat on a flight to Mexico City.

It was my 23rd birthday and the first special day that he ruined on purpose. For the next 2 years, he would ruin every holiday and birthday.

I tried to introduce him to my friends, but he decided they were all terrible people, out to get me, and wouldn’t let me see them anymore.

We moved into my friend’s treehouse on the beach while my friend went traveling. I had only known the cowboy for 3 months; he was getting more abusive by the day, but I got pregnant in that treehouse.

We had adopted another cat (Zuko) and a puppy (Momo), and it was impossible to get all of us out of Mexico and back to my parents’ house in New Jersey.

I ended up flying home with Bengali and Zuko, and the cowboy took a bus back to Texas with the dogs. He decided that he hated me again and would send me horrible messages or ignore me entirely, until he got arrested and started sending me love letters from prison.

I was so depressed, I didn’t want this. I wanted to keep solo traveling, I wanted to be free. I felt like I had no options, that I was trapped.

He got released from prison before my daughter was born and drove to New Jersey with Dani & Momo to live with us. My daughter was born, we bought a small bus and started converting it to live and travel in.

I poured all of my money into that bus, but he destroyed it and sold it for scraps. Then he got kicked out of my parents’ house for his terrible behavior, and I went with him to New York City. Once we got to the city, his emotional abuse turned into physical abuse, and he started beating me regularly.

We were struggling to survive there, and after a few months, we took a bus to Washington DC and moved into a homeless shelter. The abuse got worse and worse. I got pregnant again while we were living in the homeless shelter.

We ended up taking a train back to his family farm in Texas, and he almost killed me out there in the middle of nowhere, so I left him and went back to New Jersey with my daughter.

After a few months, I forgave him and met up with him in Miami, where I wanted to give birth. He promised me he had a job and we could get an apartment, but he didn’t, and we were homeless again. I slept on a friend’s couch with my baby, and another friend sent me to Georgia, where she had a place for me to stay.

So I escaped a second time, but he followed me to Georgia and convinced me to move back to New Jersey with my parents, who gave him a second chance. They had no idea he was so violent.

I had a freebirth in my parents’ house, and three weeks later, he tried to murder me in front of my daughters. I finally called the police and got a restraining order against him, and we haven’t seen him since!

That was almost 4 years ago.

Once he was gone, it was like I could finally breathe again, and instead of feeling trapped and unable to ever fulfill my dreams of traveling the world again, I felt hopeful.

I found other single moms on Instagram who were traveling the world with their children and realized I could do it too!

I discovered worlschooling and realized that I can still live the way I want to and that in doing so I will give my daughters the most beautiful lives.

Instead of fighting my new identity as a mother and a single mother, I finally decided to lean in.

The main thing that has gotten me through all of it is my yoga practice. Yoga has allowed me to process all the trauma of being abused by the man who was meant to protect me.

Yoga has helped me let go of the despair I was feeling for so long. I was so depressed when I was with the cowboy that I was suicidal. Every time he beat me, I was hoping this time he would finally kill me, and it would all be over.

It wasn’t until that day that he was strangling me on the bed while my 1-year-old watched in horror and my 3-week-old slept beside me that I realized I could fight back. If it wasn’t for my daughters, I would have let him kill me, but I needed to stay alive to protect them from him.

It’s taken years to heal from everything I went through, and yoga is what has helped me the most.

Now that I have let go of all the trauma he inflicted on us, I practice yoga to help me with the normal struggles of motherhood. Yoga has helped me feel strong again after two pregnancies.

When I am overwhelmed, I practice yoga to feel calm.

When I am tired, I practice yoga for energy.

When I don’t get enough sleep, I practice yoga nidra to get more rest.

My daughters practice yoga with me. We are together 24/7, and I love being with them, but it can be really overwhelming, and yoga makes everything easier.

Now I teach yoga online to other mothers inside the Yoga Mama Membership.

I’ve taken the girls to Washington, Florida, and the Bahamas. We’ve gone to New York City loads of times, and we live on the Jersey Shore. We live at my parents’ house with our pets Bengali, Zuko, Momo & Dani.

Soon I will be traveling the world again, this time with my daughters by my side, and I am so excited for the future.

Thank you for reading my story.

With Love,

Bryanna

P.S. Here are 5 yoga practices I created to hold you through Motherhood ♡

About Worldschooling Mama Network

We’re seven worldschooling mothers sharing our journeys of family, travel, and entrepreneurship. Each week, one mama pulls back the curtain on life on the road — stories of adventure, curiosity, and the messy, beautiful realities of raising children while building lives and businesses beyond the default. Our mission is to inspire, connect, and show that your “someday” can become a “when.”

Learn more about us and meet all seven mamas →

It’s 11pm. The kids are asleep — which, if you have three of them, you know is less of a bedtime and more of a miracle. There’s a sink full of dishes I fully committed to ignoring. Toys on every surface like a Target exploded in my living room. Emails in my drafts that have been “almost ready to send” since Monday.

And me? I’m on the couch with a bag of chips I’m not sharing with anyone, one earbud in, sitting in the quiet like a person who has her life together.

I am not that person. But it’s the middle of the night and nobody can tell.

I’m about to book it. The thing. My thing.

Boundless Life Japan. Fall 2026. The whole setup — housing, schooling, community, all of it handled for a family like mine. $8K/month and I don’t have to figure out a single logistic. For a mom of three who has Googled “how to worldschool” approximately 400 times, that’s not a price tag. That’s a lifeline.

Romes and I had talked about it more times than I can count — the kind of late-night conversations that start with “what if we actually did it” and end with both of us saying “Fuck it, let’s go” — half terrified, half hyped, fully aware we had no concrete plan.

I get to the booking page.

Sold out. - wonk wonk

I stared at my screen like it owed me money. There was a brief, ugly moment of grief. The kind where your brain starts running its mouth before you can stop it.

Shit, I snoozed!

I’m too late to the game!

I have to push back another year.

And honestly? Part of me wondered if the universe was just done entertaining me. Like okay mama, cute dream, now go do the dishes.

I sat with that feeling for approximately four hot minutes.

Then I opened Claude and dropped: “Help me get my family to Japan in fall 2026 without Boundless Life.”

Fam, it built me a better plan than the one that sold out. No hesitation. No “have you considered managing your expectations.” Just — here’s your roadmap, here’s your income target, here’s the tools, GO!

I sat there in the coconut water and chip crumbs and thought: oh OK — I see you girl! (Claude is a girl right?)

Here’s what I’ve been sitting with ever since: SEASONS.

Not the cute kind where you buy a new candle and call it a reset. The real ones. The ones where nothing looks like it’s happening but something is quietly stacking underneath — like compound interest on a life you’re building in the background of your actual life.

I’ve been in that season for a while. Showing up. Learning things that felt pointless. Writing posts nobody read. Having conversations that went nowhere. Working in AI during the day and Googling “worldschool family” at midnight like a woman with a plan she hasn’t fully admitted to yet.

And here’s the thing about compound effect — you don’t get to see it working. You just have to trust that it is. Until one day it tips and you realize every quiet unsexy step was load-bearing.

I work in AI. Not as an expert — as someone who’s been inside the room long enough to know what these tools can actually do when you stop being intimidated by them. And the thing that keeps me up at night — more than the dishes, more than the emails, more than the sold-out booking page — is that nobody is telling regular moms about this.

Not in a real way. Not in a “here’s what I actually typed and here’s what came back” way.

Here was my first angry prompt (better one below): “Help me get my family to Japan in Fall 2026 without Boundless Life”

What came back: A 5-phase, 6-month roadmap. A monthly income target — $8k, said out loud, not whispering anymore. Housing research. Co-working options. A kids education plan. The exact AI tools to build location-independent income from anywhere. All broken into phases with action steps I could start that same night.

Time it Took: One conversation. Coconut water and chip crumbs.

*I'll be dropping the full step-by-step plan in my next post — phases, tools, income breakdown, all of it. But I needed you to know it exists before we go any further.

This is not a flex. This is just me hiding in the dark on a weeknight.

I don’t know what your Japan is. Maybe it’s actually Japan. Maybe it’s Bali, Portugal, Mexico City, or somewhere you’ve never said out loud because you’re worried about the look people give you when you say it.

Here’s what I want you to do right now. Copy this prompt. Paste it into Claude, ChatGPT — any AI you’ve got. Fill in your blanks and hit send.

“I am a family of [X adults, X kids ages ____]. I want to worldschool in [city/country] for [X weeks/months] starting [month/year]. Build me a complete step-by-step relocation plan that includes: (1) estimated monthly budget breakdown for housing, food, transportation, and activities, (2) housing options with approximate costs and where to find them, (3) co-working spaces near family-friendly neighborhoods, (4) education options for my kids including local schools, international programs, homeschool co-ops, and online curriculums, (5) a 30-60-90 day action plan to make this actually happen. Be specific, be realistic, and don’t sugarcoat the hard parts. I want to know what this actually costs and what I actually need to do.”

Takes 60 seconds. What comes back will low-key change how you see your ‘someday’.

Then drop your destination AND your plan screenshot in the comments. I’m not just cheering you on from the sidelines — I’m in the comments, sleeves rolled up, ready to help you build the next step. We’re doing this together.

Somewhere in Japan this fall, a family of five is eating ramen for breakfast. Kids doing schoolwork at a café table. Romeo and me with laptops open, nowhere we have to be, dishes someone else’s problem.

The program sold out.

The plan got better.

LET’S GO!

#makemoves

About Worldschooling Mama Network

We’re seven worldschooling mothers sharing our journeys of family, travel, and entrepreneurship. Each week, one mama pulls back the curtain on life on the road — stories of adventure, curiosity, and the messy, beautiful realities of raising children while building lives and businesses beyond the default. Our mission is to inspire, connect, and show that your “someday” can become a “when.”

Learn more about us and meet all seven mamas →

Most people think unschooling means doing nothing.
Our days look very different.

My child has never set foot inside a classroom. He probably never will. Not because I forbid it, but because I will never force him to.

That shocks some people, especially coming from a lifelong educator and former public school teacher. But it was exactly my participation in that system that convinced me I would never subject my children to it.

So I guess, technically speaking, we don’t really need to un or de-school my son, since he was never schooled to begin with. But as parents who spent their entire childhoods, and a large chunk of their adult years, in traditional school settings, it’s important to remember why we chose this.

Our son is constantly learning. It doesn’t start or stop on a schedule. He’s making connections to the world around him all day, every day. (“This is like this, not like this…”)

He sometimes finds connections I never would have thought of. And it really excites him! The last thing I want to do is to rob him of his natural curiosity by making learning a chore. That’s what school does. (Or tends to do.)

When you flow with your child’s natural rhythms, no two days are exactly alike. But not having a set schedule doesn’t mean we don’t have some general routines.

Routines feel familiar and make children feel safe. They know what to expect, but are also free to explore and try new things.

If you ask me five years from now (heck, even two) what my unschooling day looks like, it will almost assuredly look quite different. But, for now, in this season of our lives, these are some of the themes that weave through our unschooling family.

Morning

Any parent of a toddler knows that the mood of the day is often determined by the previous night. Being woken up two, three, five times a night takes a real physical toll.

For more than two years, a consecutive four-hour stretch of sleep felt like an impossible dream. But thankfully, our son is mostly (finally) sleeping through the night.

I wouldn’t mind a more consistent sleep schedule. (Believe me.) This is steadily working itself out. Until it does, at least we have the luxury of sleeping in (sometimes) and/or napping later (if we really need to).

Our son sets the rhythm. We get up when he gets up. A year ago that was around 5-6AM. Now it’s more like 7:30-8AM. After a particularly difficult night (growing pains, tummy ache, bed wetting, etc.), it might be as late as 10-10:30AM.

This is a huge reason why we don’t adhere to a schedule. We can’t know how the night will go in advance, so we just roll with it. And if one of us is extra tired, the other will take over for an hour or two so the former can get a bit more rest. (How you single parents do it is an absolute mystery to me. I’m in awe of you. Truly.)

We may not get to decide how well we all slept the night before, but we do get to choose how we start our day.

When I was single, I started to prioritize slow mornings. It changes the feeling of the entire day. That continued after I got married, and continues still to this day.

This post resonated with me so much when I saw it. I agree that the norm is totally backwards, and I’m SO happy we do things differently. 🥰 Our rhythm is completely flipped: family first, then work. The exact opposite of what most people are doing.

Since my lessons tend to be in the late afternoon/evening, that opens up the rest of the day to spend with my son and my husband. We can do whatever we want.

Some of the most relaxing parts of the day are found in our slow mornings: Snuggling in bed before we finally “get up” to start the day. Watching a reiki video or meditating on my grounding sheet, soaking up electrons; my son quietly playing with his cars right next to me while my husband makes coffee in the kitchen. Reading a book with my son while my husband does the dishes. I’d say nothing special, but in reality: It’s all special.

I remember a moment just last week. I was sipping coffee on the couch, listening to my new favorite YouTube channel (Affirm with Music) while my son set up numerous “accidents” with his cars at my feet and my husband watched Larken Rose (an anarchist he loves) on the computer. I smiled, sighed, and consciously thought to myself, “I love my life.” 🩵

That doesn’t mean our life is without challenges. There are plenty: a recent growth spurt and its resulting tantrums, a hitting phase, consistent boundary reinforcement with our (extremely) strong-willed child, lack of sleep (as previously mentioned). But because we don’t have to rush out anywhere in the morning, we don’t have all the usual stress associated with getting dressed and out the door.

We don’t eat on a schedule. We give ourselves space to get hungry before having breakfast.

And we let our son choose what to eat. As long as it’s real food (e.g. meat, fruit, vegetables, milk), he can have whatever he wants, as much as he wants. (Sugar is a rare treat and not a significant part of his diet.) We let him listen to his body’s signals. He knows when he is hungry and knows when he is full. And can communicate both calmly.

What we have available to eat varies considerably depending on where we live. When we were in Sofia, we had access to organic raw milk and fresh sourdough. We don’t have access to those things here. (At least not that we’ve found yet.) We are blessed to regularly receive care packages from my husband’s parents, filled with a wide variety of canned sausages and other Bavarian foods my son loves. Breakfast is often some form of eggs, which are easy to get almost everywhere.

We like to put music on while we cook. Sometimes my husband will turn on Bavarian folk music (a radio show from his home country). Sometimes we’ll search for different sounds on YouTube: French cafe music, Cubano, rumba, African drums, Hawaiian, bluegrass, American rock ’n’ roll from the ‘50s and ‘60s, ‘70s folk, ‘80s pop, and what we’ve come to refer to as “Snoopy Jazz.” (There are hundreds of them.)

Sometimes mommy and daddy will start dancing together. Our son often joins us and we all share a shiny family moment. Sometimes he’ll even say, “family all together,” which melts both of our hearts. 🥹

We let him participate in whatever we are doing as much as we can. He loves being our “little helper.” He loves bringing us things. Carrying things. Throwing things in the trash. Putting things in the hamper. Whatever he can physically do.

When I cook breakfast for us, we count out how many eggs as we crack them. He helps me mix them and puts the butter in the pan. He helps daddy grind coffee.

Once we’ve all eaten, we decide together what to do next. If the weather is nice, we might have a family outing: take a walk, go to the park/playground, go to the beach, etc. If it’s rainy or super cold, we might read or watch something together.

We move our bodies. I might do Donna Eden’s morning energy routine or various exercises from the Leaply lymph drainage program I recently started. Impromptu dance parties, wrestling with daddy, and Tai Chi are all common.

We talk. He asks us questions and we answer them. Sometimes we ask him questions and he will think about them. Sometimes we get an answer; sometimes we don’t. But he sure learns a lot from hanging out with us.

We play with words and language. We explore word patterns and sounds with letter magnets on the fridge. Put on mock racing interviews with an old computer microphone that broke. It’s one of his favorite toys.

We read frequently, both in English (mostly me) and German (my husband). Our son loves Dr. Suess and the Sachen suchen series. He is already bilingual and every new word he learns in English his daddy also teaches him the German word for that thing. His capacity for language still astounds me.

He’s also obsessed with cars. Well, anything with wheels: cars, trucks, buses, tractors, trains, planes, motorcycles, scooters, bulldozers, whatever. If it has wheels and goes vroom, he’s into it.

He spends a large part of the day (pretty much any down time) playing with his various “cars.” (I use the term loosely here to refer to all of his vehicles.) He races them, takes them apart, puts them in various “accident” scenarios. Whatever his brain can think up.

He often plays by himself while daddy cleans and mommy works on her business or engages in self-care. Sometimes he interrupts us to show us what he’s doing or involve us in some way. But we always let him direct the play, whatever it looks like. As long as it’s safe, we don’t interfere.

Midday

Sometimes my husband will go shopping and I’ll stay home and play with our son. Sometimes my son will go shopping with my husband and I’ll get a couple of hours to myself. To work on my business, to relax, or to just enjoy being alone. It’s such a gift.

Now that I’m strong enough (postpartum has been very hard on my body), I sometimes get to return the favor. When we wake up a bit later or skip breakfast, my son and I will walk to the nearest village restaurant to have brunch together, just the two of us. (He is half American, after all. 😉) My husband loves this new ritual.

When you spend 24/7 together, everyone needs the occasional break. Parents especially need a chance to reset their overstimulated (and exhausted) nervous systems. It’s not selfish. It’s responsible.

If any one of us has a meltdown (we all do at some point), we process it together. We give each other space to feel big emotions. We talk through it when calm, focusing on connection first. We don’t guilt or shame each other for having feelings. Even more importantly, we don’t blame each other for them.

Socialization

A lot of parents worry about socialization outside of the school setting. We don’t. At all. My son is already SO much more social than his father, which he definitely gets from me. He greets people as we walk past them. He plays with kids of all ages on the playground without any prompting from us.

When we go to a restaurant, he even tells the server what he wants to order. I know some adults who get terrible anxiety from such a simple interaction with another human. My son genuinely enjoys it. And he’s so polite. 😇

When we lived in Sofia he loved paying the courier whenever we ordered delivery. (He can even say the word “courier.” 😂) There is no delivery where we currently live, but we often let him pay the server when the bill comes. And he always hands the cash tip directly to the server. Sometimes they even give him a high five or a hug. 🤗

Screen Time

I know parents have a lot of opinions about screens. “The idiot box” as it was often called in my and my parents’ generation, is a tool like anything else. Programming can range from awesome to awful. From pure tripe to genuinely fascinating.

We are intentional about the things we watch. We don’t watch the news or anything violent. Most children’s programming is really boring to my son. He’s very particular.

He really enjoys anything related to food: cooking shows like Dinner Time Live with David Chang or The Chef Show. He also likes nature shows, like The Elephant Whisperer, All the Sharks, The Shark Whisperer, or National Geographic.

He also seems genuinely interested in stand-up comedy. Comedians are constantly playing with language, so I get why that’s fun for him.

He also likes watching sports with his daddy. I have very little interest in sports, so grab those opportunities to work on my business or enjoy some alone time. They watch football (soccer to you Americans ⚽️), ski jumping, and motor racing together.

We don’t limit screen time. (Not specifically.) Instead, we let his behavior guide us. If he remains calm and focused and wants to continue watching, we let him. If he’s clearly overstimulated or throws a tantrum if we turn it off, then it stays off for the rest of the day. Not as a punishment, but as a reset.

We’ve discovered something really interesting using this approach: He’s learning to regulate himself.

He is often the one who asks us to turn the TV off. He hits his limit before we do. And it’s so cool that he can communicate his needs so clearly.

I don’t judge any of it. He learns a lot from what he watches. Language patterns and turns of phrase. Basic story and character structure. He can identify characters by name, explain what they’re doing, how they’re feeling, and how they relate to one another.

He compares and relates his own experience to the experiences of the characters, noting similarities and differences. All on his own. We may ask the occasional question here and there, to continue the conversation, but it really all springs from him.

I’m an audio-visual learner, too. I retain information much better when I both see and hear it. So far be it from me to restrict a learning mode that works for him.

His favorite shows at the moment are Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee and Puffin Rock. He literally knows every comedian, every car model, the color of every car, the engine in every car.

He will repeat lines, or even entire speeches, from both shows:

• “I’m Jerry Seinfeld, and this is Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee.”

• “C’mon, lads. We’ve got to share!” (Anytime he wants something we are eating. 😛)

• “They can put a monkey into orbit, but they can’t make a decent lava lamp!” (From the Brian Regan episode of Comedians in Cars.)

• “Home is where the mama is.” 💖 (The narrator of Puffin Rock.)

• “Stand-up, TV, movies…if you can do all that—you belong in a Ferrari.” (From the Amy Schumer episode.)

His memory is phenomenal. He hasn’t watched Cocomelon (his previous favorite show) in over a year, but he still remembers things he learned from that show. Verbatim even.

Child-Led Learning

We let him choose a lot of things. How he plays. What to read. What to listen to. What to watch. What he wears.

We do set some boundaries; we insist he wears pants (not shorts) and a coat when it’s cold outside, for example. But within those boundaries (which he knows and understands), he gets to decide.

Which shirt, which pants, which shoes…Whenever we can offer him a choice, we do. And as a result, he knows his opinion matters.

His vocabulary amazes me. His parents both have quite high vocabularies in our respective languages, and spending so much time with us, he soaks it up like a sponge.

Some phrases my son has actually used in the last month:

• “Shall we play again?”

• “That is a possibility.”

• “I do, indeed.”

• “Coffee is not for little bears.” ☕️

• “That’s my private property.”

• “I am a curious kid.” (Yeah, buddy. I love that about you. 💞)

• “Mommy, I want to talk to you about a question.”

• “I’ve had enough of this noise!”

• “My goodness!”

• “I would prefer this one.”

• “Wow. That’s pungent.” (Referring to his own 💩.)

• “What a lovely family trip.”

• “Don’t violate my bodily autonomy!” (What is that? Like twelve syllables? He just turned three. 😳)

His articulation is equally impressive. How many toddlers do you know who can correctly pronounce names like “Zach Galifianakis” or “Sebastian Maniscalco?” Or casually use terms like “laissez-faire” or “opportunity cost?” (Both from The ABCs of Economics in The Tuttle Toddlers series by Connor Boyak and Elijah Stanfield.) Or who can explain the non-aggression principle? Most adults can’t do that. 😂

Afternoon

Our son often takes a nap in the afternoon, so this is typically the time when we squeeze in grown-up things. Some days there is no nap, and we have to adjust. But when there is, we take full advantage of the time.

Sometimes we use it to work. I used to try to schedule my lessons around his nap time, so I could spend as much waking time with him as possible. Now I’ll write, create, or edit whatever I am working on for my business. My husband will research or do surveys.

Sometimes we use it for private time together. (Yes, that.) Or to watch something that isn’t so child-friendly, recreating the date nights we used to have before we were parents.

Sometimes we use it to rest, just like our son. I often nap with him if I need more rest before my lessons, which are now a bit later in the day.

I also sometimes use it to explore my own interests. Parenting, homeschooling, or worldschooling groups. Anything about natural or mental health.

Today, for example, I received an invitation to an online event (The Unschooling Summit) that looks pretty amazing. It starts exactly eight days from now.

I’m not sure how much I will actually be able to consume on those days, or if I will even feel inspired to. But I’ve already signed up, and will see what resonates with me at the time. Or not.

That’s the benefit of unstructured days. They can flow with you. (Not you against them.)

Evening

I usually teach in the late afternoon/early evening. I keep availability open 2PM to 9PM every day of the week. Some weeks I teach every day. Some weeks I get one day off. (Rarely two.)

Some days I only have one or two lessons. Some days I have five in a row (usually Saturdays), which can be a bit of a grind, especially if the previous night didn’t go well.

(When was the last time you did math for five hours straight? Probably never. 😛)

When those days fall on a “racing weekend,” my husband and son have the perfect bonding activity to focus on while I teach.

My son’s obsession with cars came from his daddy, who is a huge racing nerd. He’s watched literally every Formula 1 race since 1994.

Thanks to his father’s passion hobby, my three-year-old son now knows more about motor racing than I do. He can literally tell you every driver, every team brand, every engine on every car.

As a mother, it pleases me to know that there is already something he knows more about than me. And I’m quite sure it won’t be the last thing. 🙂

If my son ever communicates interest in an area I am not so familiar with, I may one day purchase a curriculum for us to use together. But for the content, not the structure.

I see a lot of homeschoolers overly relying on curriculums. Even classroom teachers don’t use curriculum like gospel. They pick and choose the topics or skills that are most important and could reasonably fit in the allotted time they are given. They don’t just blindly follow it from start to finish. (Well, some of them do. 😂)

That’s the beauty of homeschooling. You get to decide what is important. Why would you hand that choice over to some publisher? Or worse, to some government standard that you purposely opted out of. They may be so-called “experts” in their specific area, but they’ve never met your kid. Literally no one knows your child better than you. Remember that.

When I’m finished teaching for the day, we usually like to watch something as a family before winding down for bed. Shows like Downton Abbey and Little House on the Prairie or maybe a light movie. Tonight it was Julie & Julia (another cooking theme).

My boys are already asleep as I finish writing this. Time to go join them and get some 💤.

About Worldschooling Mama Network

We’re seven worldschooling mothers sharing our journeys of family, travel, and entrepreneurship. Each week, one mama pulls back the curtain on life on the road — stories of adventure, curiosity, and the messy, beautiful realities of raising children while building lives and businesses beyond the default. Our mission is to inspire, connect, and show that your “someday” can become a “when.”

Learn more about us and meet all seven mamas →

I was lucky enough to grow up inside one.

I grew up surrounded by extended family. Almost every week, we gathered around round tables heavy with food, mostly at grandma’s house. Aunties moving between dishes. Cousins running in and out of rooms. Laughter rising and falling like a tide. The air always felt full. Of voices. Of warmth.

During Chinese New Year, the rhythm intensified — firecrackers cracking in the street, lion dances with pounding drums and clanging cymbals, red envelopes passed from hand to hand. We would toss noodles together with our chopsticks for longevity, everyone reaching in at once.

I didn’t grow up in a traditional nuclear family.
But I grew up in a village.
And with it, I had flow.

An invisible net of hands and hearts held me. If one adult was busy, another stepped in. If one space felt loud, another offered quiet. Everything moved around me with a natural rhythm — support without announcement, belonging without effort. I had the best village a child could ask for.

Perhaps that’s why, as an adult, I crave community wherever I go.
That feeling of being seen. Being held. Being part of something larger than yourself.

So when our family chose a nomadic life, it wasn’t a question of if we would seek community.

It was simply how.

Different Ways Families Gather

When we first stepped into the world of full-time travel, I didn’t yet know there was a global network of families doing something similar.

Families traveling part-time. Families slow traveling for years. Families with home bases they returned to seasonally. Families building businesses while educating their children on the road.

Discovering them felt like stumbling upon a hidden village that stretched across continents I hadn’t realized existed.

Over the past three and a half years of slow travel, I’ve seen many ways worldschooling families gather.

There’s no official definition of a “worldschooling hub.” But in general, hubs offer some structure — programming for children, sometimes drop-off options, occasionally co-working for adults, and often organized gatherings for the whole family.

Some are more comprehensive and permanent.

All-in-one hubs include accommodation, educational programming, and shared spaces in a fixed location. Examples I’ve come across include Boundless Life with multiple locations around the world and Field School of Hvar in Croatia. We haven’t attended either, though we visited the Sintra site of Boundless in Portugal and it felt beautifully curated — intentional spaces designed for both learning and connection.

Other hubs are shorter-term — a few weeks or months — often with child programming and optional adult activities. These are frequently organized by families or small teams and can be found through worldschooling communities online.

There are also pop-up hubs — week-long gatherings that feel more like immersive family retreats. No drop-off programs, but shared experiences designed for collective learning and easy connections.

And beyond fixed-location hubs, there is another rhythm entirely.

Some families choose to travel together.

There are programs that accept families by application and then move collectively from country to country — like Traveling Village — creating a traveling container of community that shifts geography but keeps the core group intact.

And then there are looser versions of this model. One family shares their upcoming itinerary. Others join for a week, a month, or a season. A kind of fluid caravan. Communities like Worldschool Friends make this kind of coordination possible.

This model fascinates me because it blends stability and movement. The landscape changes, but the relationships travel with you.

And then there’s what I call organic hubs.

Places that simply attract worldschooling and homeschooling families. No formal organizer. No fee. Just an ecosystem of connection once you arrive — local chat groups, park meetups, shared meals.

Each model carries its own rhythm, its own texture of belonging.

And none of them is the “right” way.

They are simply different ways of building a village while moving through the world.

And over time, we began to feel into which rhythm suited our family best.

As we experienced these different models, I began documenting them for ourselves — hubs, pop-ups, travel-together groups, organic hotspots — trying to understand not just where they were, but what kind of rhythm they offered.

That personal map is slowly becoming something I’ll be sharing publicly as The Worldschool Map. If you’re navigating your own version of “to hub or not to hub,” you can join the waitlist to be notified when it’s ready.

Our One Official Hub Experience

In three and a half years, we’ve joined one official hub: Camp School in Andalusia, Spain.

An off-season hotel one street from the ocean. Salt in the air. Bare feet on red brick floors surrounded by greenery. The hum of children echoing through the garden where they spilled into the moment doors open in the morning.

There were no drop-off programs. Parents rotated leading activities. It was an intense co-living experiment — one shared kitchen, many families.

And yet.

The older children cared so tenderly for the younger ones. I’ll never forget Lilly chasing after a nine-year-old boy who adored her and Lua. Not every older child gravitates toward toddlers. But something about that environment softened everyone’s edges.

The way they invented games together. Sang songs. The way they included across language barriers. It felt like a tiny village forming in real time.

One morning, after a particularly hard start to the day, I walked across the courtyard carrying more than I had realized. Another mom saw my face. She didn’t ask questions first.

She hugged me.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

We sat down. I cried. I don’t remember the problem anymore.

I only remember how supported I felt.

That’s what a village does.
It catches you before you fall too far.

Choosing Organic Community

And yet, despite the beauty of that experience, most of the time we don’t choose structured hubs.

Partly because of cost. Some hubs simply aren’t accessible for us right now.

But also because we’ve discovered something about ourselves.

We’ve learned that we thrive in spaces where connection unfolds naturally.

We love living within walking distance of other families. Children running between houses without prior planning. Knocking on doors. Disappearing into shared play.

We tend to choose places with greenery over large cities. I may not love cooking alone, but I enjoy cooking together with other families — chopping vegetables side by side, stirring pots, children weaving between us.

In Pai, Thailand, we developed a weekly ritual.

Every Saturday, we went to the main park during the local market. Stalls lined the grass — coconuts, mango sticky rice, curries, spring rolls. Music drifted from a nearby café. Some families practiced with circus props. Others laid out mats and chatted in the shade.

Children ran freely between playground and field.

It was vibrant and relaxed at the same time.

We would meet familiar faces — and new ones. It became a rhythm we could count on. A place where belonging didn’t require registration. It became our steady rhythm of belonging.

Once in Thailand, we moved into a resort-like property surrounded by greenery. Between our house and another family’s was a koi pond, a small restaurant, and a quiet zen patio shaded by trees.

We met this family on the day they arrived. Just a casual hello.

And somehow it became dinners together. Shared afternoons. Reuniting again in Vietnam months later — one of the reasons we chose to come.

This is the kind of flow we tend to follow now.

The Flow Goes Both Ways

No matter which path we choose — settling into a hub, traveling together, or moving organically — the structure is only the surface.

Beneath every model, something else is happening.

Something relational.

When we were cycling across Europe, we often camped in strangers’ gardens. Most people were unexpectedly kind. It felt vulnerable at first — knocking on doors, explaining who we were, asking for a small patch of grass.

One family welcomed us into a backyard full of homeopathic plants and wildflowers. We stayed briefly. Shared stories. Then we moved on.

Last summer, they wrote to us.

Because of our visit, they’d begun imagining travel differently. They were preparing to sell their house and explore with their son in the campervan they already owned.

Reading their message warmed me in a way I can still feel in my chest.

Sometimes, it’s not only that strangers leave something in us — hospitality, generosity, community.

And sometimes, simply by showing up as we are, we leave something in them too.

The flow of kindness is never one-directional.

What begins as a small act — a patch of grass, a shared meal, an open gate — ripples forward in ways we may never fully see.

To Hub or Not to Hub?

Since experiencing both structured hubs and organic gathering, we’ve realized something simple.

Worldschooling can be done in so many different ways.

A hub can be a beautiful landing pad — especially if you’re just beginning. It can remove the weight of logistics and offer instant connection.

Organic community requires more initiative and more trust. But it offers flexibility. Spaciousness. The freedom to shape your own rhythm.

Neither is better. Both hold value in their own way,

They are simply different containers for belonging.

What matters more is understanding your family’s current season.

And perhaps that’s the deeper lesson.

Worldschooling isn’t one path.
It has opened our eyes to a spectrum of possibilities that exist.

How we gather shapes how we learn.
How we move shapes how we grow.

And realizing that fills my heart with a quiet kind of excitement for the years ahead.

I’m curious to know…

What does community look like in your current season?
Are you craving structure, spontaneity, or something in between?

Leave a comment

May you find — or build — the village that meets you where you are.

May you always be in flow.

With love and joy,
Connie 💛
The Flow Journey

P.S. If this reflection stirs curiosity about hubs, community, or designing your own version of worldschooling, you can explore more in my Worldschooling Collection — where I share both practical insights and personal reflections from the road.

About Worldschooling Mama Network

We’re seven worldschooling mothers sharing our journeys of family, travel, and entrepreneurship. Each week, one mama pulls back the curtain on life on the road — stories of adventure, curiosity, and the messy, beautiful realities of raising children while building lives and businesses beyond the default. Our mission is to inspire, connect, and show that your “someday” can become a “when.”

Learn more about us and meet all seven mamas →

If you recall from my get-to-know-you post, our family recently returned to Sevilla, Spain in early January. We have settled back into our apartment, the kids are back in their trilingual school and we have our enjoyed the return of the sunshine to Andalucia this month!

So what is a typical day like for a slow-mad family in Sevilla?

Let’s start with this past Monday, shall we? My 6 and 8 year old routinely forego their bunk beds to cuddle in with us. I know this won’t last forever so I’m just enjoying it while I can. We get up around 8 am and get started with breakfast and packing snacks for the day. Mark and the boys leave a bit before 9 a.m. to walk the 4 minutes to their school.

My oldest is in the 3rd grade and thrives on the routine of school. He literally does his homework on his own the second he comes home (like his mama lol). My youngest is in the infantil (preschool) and so has a lot of play time which is perfect for his active body!

A normal day at their trilingual school

As our goal is languages at this age and stage, being at a German school in Spain means they get a lot of exposure to Spanish which is newer to them, German which they’ve been hearing since birth and now my oldest also has English class.

The schedule is so much different than their school in the US that only had one 20-minute recess in 7 hours. My 3rd grader has class for about an hour and then a 30-minute breakfast and play break. Then another hour of different classes and another 30-minute break. The kids often play soccer and he was so proud he scored a goal on Monday!

Then at 2:30, they have lunch in the comedor. Lunch was noodles and tomato sauce and chicken in a green sauce. Other typical meals are carrot soup, lentils, chicken tika masala and of course tortillas (a Spanish egg dish). The kids have tried so many new foods! My youngest is very selective so will often only eat bread or yogurt but we have supported him to advocate for his needs with the comedor teacher.

Afterschool activities (all within walking distance from our apartment!)

On Mondays, the boys have extraescolares (after school activities) from 3-4:30 pm to give them more opportunities for interactions in Spanish. My oldest does pequeños científicos (little scientists) one day and ajedrez (chess) the other day. My kiddo in infantil gets to run around and do art.

I pick them up at 4:30 p.m. and we walk through the nearby park to tennis! This is new for us this year. Mark believes tennis is a helpful long-term skill so we will see if they want to continue after this spring! Monday was the costume party of Carnaval so it was fun to watch my ninjas play tennis!

We walk back through the park at around 6:30, do homework, grab the groceries we need for dinner and Mark starts cooking around 8. We eat together and then the boys help me clean up after before starting to get ready for bed. My oldest is a voracious Kindle reader (it was the best Christmas gift we could have given him!) so while he reads, I do a picture book with my youngest on his Kindle. They often will fall asleep by 9:30 or 10. Most days, I crash out by then too!

My days are full too!

During my day on Monday, I had a 1 hour Preply class with my teacher Veronica for an hour (she lives in the Canary islands and is so fun to work with!), walked to the nearby gym to do a spin class and worked on the Wander Worldschool podcast, managing our homebase home and I’m starting to do Japan planning! Any Japan tips are welcome!

We really like the ease of life here when we are in Sevilla (January - June)! Sure, living in an apartment means I hear A LOT of noise outside (thank goodness for noise cancelling headphones) but overall, the compactness of our life makes it so much easier to go out and explore on weekends (like to the coast near Marbella this last weekend or to Chipiona for Carnaval this upcoming weekend)!

Have you spent time in parts of Spain before? Have you considered an international school situation for your family? Let me know in the comments!

About Worldschooling Mama Network

We’re seven worldschooling mothers sharing our journeys of family, travel, and entrepreneurship. Each week, one mama pulls back the curtain on life on the road — stories of adventure, curiosity, and the messy, beautiful realities of raising children while building lives and businesses beyond the default. Our mission is to inspire, connect, and show that your “someday” can become a “when.”

Learn more about us and meet all seven mamas →

Aloha, I am Jessica 💖

A wholistic solo mother of two, a naturopathic somatic family consultant, deeply passionate about optimizing health in our bodies and making the world a better place.

Water.

Land.

Food.

Connection — to self, others, and the environment.

Faith.

Where I came from & How I arrived here

I was born and raised in a small town in western Pennsylvania. Travel wasn’t in my family’s vocabulary. We visited relatives an hour or two away, and when one of my uncles mysteriously landed in North Carolina, we made that road trip. There was little openness to curiosity in those visits.

I remember the early excitement of staying with my grandparents three hours away in Ohio. I loved the sound of the road — watching the land change, noticing different cars and trucks, architecture, and feeling a quiet curiosity about the people. Yet arrival often brought frustration. I longed to see the place itself — the architecture, the restaurants, the people, the culture — to feel its heart. Instead, we were there simply to visit family.

I was bored.

I wanted to see the world.

That desire took shape with my first babysitting job, followed by getting my driver’s license, moving to Florida, and eventually landing in North Carolina, where I began my corporate career with a global tech company. Suddenly, dreams of Italy, cities and landscapes, and places I had never imagined filled me with excitement and a deep sense of aliveness.

After ten years of corporate travel, healing, and expanding my education, I retired from corporate life and began working in the health and healing field. Shortly after, I moved to Southern California to continue my studies. There, I fell deeply in love with life.

I didn’t travel for three years — but when I oriented toward having children, I knew immediately that I wanted to offer them a global education.

Twelve years ago, that journey began with the birth of my daughter. My son followed five years later.

In the beginning, world schooling wasn’t what it is today. I struggled to communicate what I was doing to family, friends, and people we met along the way. Choosing a global education rooted in lived experience rather than the classroom was not widely accepted. It was looked at as a vacation life where my kids were deprived of real world living.

And yet — despite the judgments — my children became living proof of my heart for this lifestyle. Their kindness, compassion, curiosity, respect, openness, and courage speak louder than any explanation ever could. This way of living has brought us deep friendships and meaningful opportunities to contribute positively wherever we land.

Joining the Worldschooling Mama Network Connecting deeply with these unique mothers leading their families, each walking this path in their own ways, finding their family’s rhythm, has reminded me that we are not meant to do this alone. Meeting weekly with these women over the past year has been inspiring to connect and share stories, support each other through the challenges.

Funding & logistics, rooted in faith.

My heart, guided by faith, leads the way — in the places we go and in my consulting work. I primarily offer health and healing support to people and animals, and at times I also support small businesses as they grow and realign.

With a diverse background and many lived resources, I’ve found that each place we land awakens something unique. At the core of it all, my work remains the same: nourishing families through hydration, simple cleansing foods that travel well, and support in staying aligned with their family’s mission.

After spending significant time between Hawaiʻi and the National Parks around the Grand Canyon — and moving through an unexpected transition — I find myself in a season of reorientation. A pause in Southern California. A time to gather what’s been learned and release a new chapter.

2026 was meant to be a year of expansion — Europe, Central and South America, Africa, Japan. And then life asked for something different.

A car accident.

A season of healing for all of us.

A deepening of faith.

A return to the body.

A quiet realignment.

This is a time to feel into what’s next — to pause the momentum and land into what is best for my family as a whole.

Here, along with these beautiful mamas, I’ll be sharing more of the day to day of this solo mama world schooling adventure.

If you feel resonance, curiosity, or would like support, I would love to connect.

I offer consultations for families, mothers, and individuals rooted in somatic, naturopathic, and lived experience, supporting health, healing, alignment, and life transitions. I also work with animals and, when aligned, offer guidance to small businesses seeking clarity and grounding.

Many families ask how I get consistent nourishment for my family while traveling — it has been a challenge at times but I now have a simple system that travels well, supports real life on the road and my kids love it!

I would love to hear where you are in your world schooling journey.

📧 Email: jfontainecollective@gmail.com

📱 Phone / Text / WhatsApp / Telegram: +1 310 633 3096

If you’re curious about simple nourishment on the go, here’s the foundation of what we use with a special gift card:

🌿 https://www.ultlifestyle.com?giftcard=Foodlove

You can learn more based on your interests here:

🧐 https://ishoppurium.com/getnews?giftcard=Foodlove

If you’re interested in additional income or starting your own business, this is the link:

✨https://ishoppurium.com/IncomeOpportunity?giftcard=Foodlove

Thank you for being here with us, for reading this far. I hope that something in my story inspires you to connect and find your way to this incredible lifestyle.

With love & gratitude,

Jessica

About Worldschooling Mama Network

We’re seven worldschooling mothers sharing our journeys of family, travel, and entrepreneurship. Each week, one mama pulls back the curtain on life on the road — stories of adventure, curiosity, and the messy, beautiful realities of raising children while building lives and businesses beyond the default. Our mission is to inspire, connect, and show that your “someday” can become a “when.”

Learn more about us and meet all seven mamas →

I’m Nabila, mum of a 5 year-old son, building a life rooted in freedom, flexibility, and part-time worldschooling.

Before becoming a mother, I spent many years traveling solo, often backpacking and moving slowly through the world. Asia remains especially close to my heart, for its cultures, its rhythms, and the way it teaches you to value presence over speed. Those experiences deeply shaped how I see life today.

I’m originally from Morocco and currently based in Rabat, by the beach. I’m raising my son while navigating a path that blends part-time worldschooling, meaningful work, and intentional living.

For more than 15 years, I built a solid career in communication and event management within structured, salaried roles. Walking away from that security was a big challenge. It meant questioning the idea that success must always look like stability, titles, and constant growth, and daring to choose time, freedom, and alignment instead.

In 2023, I chose to take that step. Not because it was easy or obvious, but because I wanted to be present for my child and to design a life where work supports family life, not the other way around.

Worldschooling entered our lives gradually. We practice it part-time, through travel, everyday experiences, and lived moments. Over the past year, we joined several worldschooling hubs in Europe and Morocco, discovering how powerful a community can be for both children and parents on this journey.

Along the way, I’ve been exploring the digital nomad ecosystem and joined digital nomad and worldschooling events across Europe, connecting with families and creators who are also redefining success, work, and education.

Today, I work as an independent communication and event management consultant while continuing to explore slower, more flexible ways of living and working. I’m especially drawn to building spaces ,physical and digital, where families can connect, learn, and support each other.

The Worldschooling Mama Network reflects this season of my life: a space for honest stories, shared questions, and gentle courage. A place for mamas who feel the pull to choose freedom over convention, presence over pressure, and quality time over constant achievement.

I don’t have everything figured out. But I trust that choosing time, connection, and intentional living is never a step backward. Freedom isn’t the easiest path, but for us, it’s the most meaningful one.

.

About Worldschooling Mama Network

We’re seven worldschooling mothers sharing our journeys of family, travel, and entrepreneurship. Each week, one mama pulls back the curtain on life on the road — stories of adventure, curiosity, and the messy, beautiful realities of raising children while building lives and businesses beyond the default. Our mission is to inspire, connect, and show that your “someday” can become a “when.”

Learn more about us and meet all seven mamas →

Hi! My name is Bryanna, I am a 28-year-old single mother of 2 little girls, ages 3 & 4. We currently live with my parents in New Jersey, as I grow my online business so I can soon have my own home AND start worldschooling my daughters ♡

I was a full time solo backpacker, traveling the world and teaching Yoga as a volunteer at hostels before 2020. Once the world ended I moved into a van with a girl I met on instagram and started traveling in the Pacific Northwest, where I met a crazy cowboy and went on an insane adventure that ended with me, 3 months later, pregnant in a treehouse over a beach in Mexico.

After 2 years with the crazy cowboy, trying to make a home with a monster, traveling all around the USA, and having 2 baby girls, I finally got a restraining order against him when my youngest was 3 weeks old because he was incredibly abusive and literally went to jail for trying to murder me in front of my babies.

Since then I have been healing at my parents house and building my dream; Yoga Mama Cafe: A yoga shala with childcare on site, a cozy cafe, coworking spaces and coliving. I am going to open locations all over the world and one membership will give you access to stay at all of them!

I am currently in the beginning stage, growing an online yoga membership designed for mothers with yoga classes you can practice at your own pace with weekly community calls so we can connect & support each other. ♡

Joining the Worldschooling Mama Network

Late night scrolling through worldschooling facebook groups to get inspired by the amazing things all of the other worldschooling families were doing, I stumbled across Connie’s post inviting other mothers to connect.

Our weekly calls have been so meaningful, connecting with like-minded mothers who are living in alignment with themselves and doing life differently with their children has shown me that the life I am working towards is possible.

Over the last year, I have watched in real time as the mothers in our group grow and bring their beautiful ideas to life! I love talking to the women in our group every week and helping each other through motherhood, business, and worldschooling.

Connie came from Europe to New Jersey to visit her family and I had the opportunity to show her family around the small beach town I grew up in. Enjoying where I live now with a family who already travels around the world helped me to appreciate where I am at more.

It was so beautiful watching my daughters play with Connie’s daughters and to bring our friendship offline and into real life!

I love that our group is so small and close. This substack is an amazing place for us to share with the world what would previously only be said within our small group.

Our Family Travels

My very first trip after leaving my ex, my littlest was 3 months old & my oldest was just over a year. A friend who I had met in Nicaragua was getting married in Washington State, so my mom came with us and we flew across the country. I went to the wedding alone, had a lovely time and then explored Olympic National Park with my girls ♡.

I felt so free in that magical forest and it was so easy traveling with my girls, we would have gone on many more trips already if I had the resources.

We live an hour outside of New York City, any time a friend of mine from traveling, the internet, or from when I lived in Miami is passing through, we head up to the city for a day trip and always have the best time.

Every year my parents take us and my 2 brothers on a trip around Christmas time, twice to Florida and once on a cruise that actually left from New Jersey and took us straight to the Bahamas which I didn’t know was an option and totally blew my mind.

My daughters love traveling as much as I do, they love exploring the world, experiencing new things and meeting new people. I plan to take them everywhere, raise them all over the world and show them everything & everyone our beautiful Earth has to offer.

Our Approach to Learning & Education

My daughters are still really young, I am home with them 24/7, and we focus mostly on play. We make food together, practice Yoga and spend lots of time outside. We live close to the beach, and we spend our entire summer in the ocean.

We read lots of books, make art, and I teach them how to regulate their emotions. I really resonate with Waldorf, and sometimes use the Wondergarten curriculum.

Worldschooling is important to me because I want to spend as much time as I can with my girls and show them the world. I want them to stay as unique and original as they are now without the added pressure to conform and fit in, or the shame that comes from being a creative, original person in a traditional school setting.

Where to Find Bryanna:

• Join me inside of Yoga Mama ♡

• Read my personal Substack, published every full & new moon.

• Follow me on Instagram, Tiktok, or YouTube

Closing Reflection / Invitation

I hope my little family inspires you to continue to move toward the life you truly want, to believe that it is possible, and even if it feels far away, it is just around the corner.

About Worldschooling Mama Network

We’re seven worldschooling mothers sharing our journeys of family, travel, and entrepreneurship. Each week, one mama pulls back the curtain on life on the road — stories of adventure, curiosity, and the messy, beautiful realities of raising children while building lives and businesses beyond the default. Our mission is to inspire, connect, and show that your “someday” can become a “when.”

Learn more about us and meet all seven mamas →