Turning around, I saw my five-year-old son, Theo, dawdling behind me, twirling his Spiderman umbrella above his head.
‘Theo, come on,’ I snapped in exasperation. ‘We’re going to be late for swimming.’
It was his final week in reception before tackling our first six weeks’ holidays. He hadn’t even broken up from school yet, and I was already stressed to bits.
A freelance journalist, I’d stopped adding to my to-do list because it was so long. I wanted to cry every time I contemplated it.
I planned to spend the rest of the summer looking after my son during the day and squeezing in as much work as possible on evenings and weekends.
Just now, we were heading to his last swimming lesson of the term – a ‘family fun’ event where we could all get in and splash about. Except, all I could think was: how on earth was I going to fit it all in?
Theo’s lagging behind in the pouring rain was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Or, in this case, my already frayed temper.
Before he even looked up at me with his big, brown, innocent eyes, a huge wave of guilt washed over me.
Bending down in a massive puddle, I pulled him in for a hug. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart,’ I told him.
‘Come on, we’ll have fun in the pool – let’s see how big a splash you can make when you jump in.’
As we hurried along together, I reminded myself: these holidays are meant to be enjoyed, not just survived. A fact that is all too easy to forget.
I’ve worked like a demon for the past two months to make up for the holidays
See, every parent who I’ve mentioned the upcoming break to, has let out huge, exhausted sighs and launched into lengthy explanations about how they’re going to tackle the ‘juggle’.
The spreadsheets they’ve spent hours assembling, the holiday clubs they’d recommend, the friends, family members and relative strangers they’re roping into helping look after their kids.
And I’m one of them – just without the spreadsheet.
Because I’m freelance, I can, technically, take off the majority of the six weeks’ holidays to spend with my son and our daughter, Immy – and that’s what I intend to do.
It goes without saying that I feel lucky to be in this situation, but it does come at a cost. A very literal, financial, one.
I’ve worked like a demon for the past two months to make up for the holidays – like a squirrel trying to stock up for winter. I’m planning to work just two days a week, which my husband Tom – who is employed and has limited annual leave – and my parents are covering.
I am already dreading the drop in income, and the late nights and weekends I’ll have to spend in front of my laptop. Having to explain to my editors that yes, I can do that piece of work but it will take me double the time; as well as squeezing in phone calls and emails, while trying to have fun with my children.
I’m quickly learning that all parents have to make compromises during this long break – and this will be ours.
But it’s all too easy, while getting caught up in all of this stress, pressure and work, to forget that getting to spend this amount of time with your family is actually a gift.
The last time I got to hang out this much with my children was my maternity leave with Immy – kindly interrupted by lockdown. We stayed in, made a lot of train tracks, played with toy animals and did more crafts than I ever dreamed possible.
This time, we have the whole world open to us – quite literally. Although we’re not going abroad, we’re staying local and might book up a couple of last-minute weekend stay-cations.
I need to appreciate the next six weeks – however frazzled I feel now and, inevitably, during them
Otherwise, we’ll spend our days going to the cinema, museums, and galleries. We’ll visit petting farms, do our local library’s reading challenge, and go to the beach. We’ll see friends and family, go on playdates, or out for lunch.
For three days during the week, we can get up whenever we like, take our time getting dressed – even put on a film over breakfast if we fancy. Something we rarely even do on a weekend, because we’re dashing here, there and everywhere. Trying to make the most of every single minute.
And when you put it that way, it sounds pretty awesome, doesn’t it?
My niece is leaving primary school this year and my sister is devastated at the change that’s coming, at her daughter’s growing independence and how she’s on her way to spending her summers with friends, rather than family.
Another mum I know, whose children are in secondary school, is equally distraught that her children’s summer holidays will soon be over forever. That they’ll be heading into the world of work and will no longer enjoy the extended break together.
Speaking to both of these parents has made me realise that I need to appreciate the next six weeks – however frazzled I feel now and, inevitably, during them.
After all, we didn’t have children to spend our lives surviving a mad scrabble of breakfasts and bathtimes – shipping them out to school in between.
Of course, the practicalities of having to work also press down, but surely we should be grabbing this opportunity to spend more time with our little ones? Especially while they’re still small.
So, a reminder to all of the parents out there – mostly, to myself: don’t just endure it, enjoy it. In between emails.
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