My husband is a pilot. We did it the hard way. All civilian instruction from day one. Private pilot, then instrument, then commercial, then CFI. It was long. It was hard. It was expensive. It was…wait. I mean “is.” It. Never. Ends. Pilots are always ladder climbing, but it’s a ladder to the clouds. There is always a higher level to attain. Is it worth it? I don’t really have an answer for that. It is what it is and it is not what I thought. So, I often have a couple of reworked songs in my head, this is one of them.
Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Pilots
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be pilots
Don’t let ’em fly airplanes and spend them big bucks
Make ’em be gamblers and bookies and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be pilots
They’ll never be home and they’ll leave you alone
Even on weekends they’re gone
Pilots ain’t easy to love and they’re often too bold
And Alaska flying shows don’t ever get old
Noise reduction headsets and trifold knee boards
Each flight becomes a new love
To have and to hold until the plane’s put away
Oh how the pilot’s eye likes to rove
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be pilots
Don’t let ’em fly airplanes and spend them big bucks
Make ’em flip burgers and mop floors and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be pilots
They’ll never be home and they’ll leave you alone
Even on weekends they’re gone
Pilots like layers of cloud decks, and cold, clear mornings
Gyros and Garmins, stars above and lights below at night
The hundred dollar burger’s a unicorn only an hour away
A pilot is not so hard to figure out
If you’re living life up in the air, you can’t make mistakes
The pilot is dead if the pilot ain’t right
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be pilots
Don’t let ’em fly airplanes and spend them big bucks
Make ’em fight fires and crimes and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be pilots
They’ll never be home and they’ll leave you alone
Even on weekends they’re gone
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be pilots
Don’t let ’em fly airplanes and spend them big bucks
Let ’em strum guitars and beat drums and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be pilots
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The original song, in case you didn’t know, is “Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys” by Ed Bruce, but it was covered by Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson several years later.
theincompetenthausfrau 
Is this your airplane? Pretty amazing! My hubbie’s a pilot, too. Strictly recreational. He got all the certifications you mentioned before he was 35. Then, more recently, he spent 6 years building a RV-7. We used to have a Maule M-7. Our current airplane is smaller, but flies faster. We love flying.
No, we don’t own one yet. 🙂