We returned back to school on day 7 of the new school term. As usual, I walk on tiptoes past the eldest’s class to get a glimpse of her whilst on the way to dropping the middle one at preschool. I’m not talented or special by any means, but my lip-reading skills are developed enough to recognise the words ‘been on holiday,’ coming from my smiley little girls mouth. Well that’s f****d that one then I thought.
We’ve always loved a holiday and experiencing life on different shores. Whenever we could and to wherever we could, we would get away. To remote corners of Scotland to sunny beaches of Spain and peaceful villages in the Caribbean (I sound like a twat here I know, but fuck it
we he worked hard for it). We were kid free and life was, well it was quite simply flipping marvellous.
A strange thing happened the other week, whilst on holiday. It was an unusual moment, which
rarely hardly ever happens. I can’t remember the last time this happened at home, let alone being able to experience it abroad. It was a joyful moment where I wasn’t quite sure if I was conscious and perhaps dead maybe, off somewhere in parenting heaven. So what was this divine moment I hear you ask. Well it was quite simply;
SITTING DOWN, TOGETHER (AS IN, ME AND THE OTHER HALF), ON A BEACH
After arriving home from our holiday I felt exhausted and in need of another holiday to recover. Which is not really how you would expect to feel after the holiday of a lifetime and come to think of it not how you would normally define a holiday. If you look up the definition of holiday in the dictionary it will probably look something like this;
You see words like ‘break’, ‘rest’ and ‘week off’ which was relevant to the pre-kid years as you were able to break away from the routine, recuperate from the hectic life and you really lived the ‘week off’. This is not quite the case when you’re on holiday with the kids. Because kids will still be kids regardless of which side of the world you’re on, they’ll still need the comfort of a routine, they’ll still need their sleep and unlike any other job in the world being a mum is something you’ll just never be able to have a ‘week off’ from.
So maybe it’s about changing the expectations and redefining the holiday, because that’s why we always feel deflated right – when outcomes don’t quite match our expectations? You need to remember that the little people travelling with you don’t understand the approach, ‘yeah sure why not you’re on holiday’ because they can’t quite grasp it and the ‘lets stay out for another drink’ is really going to screw you the next day when they are all evil tired.
So I’ve sat and ran through my expectations of holidays and kind of come to the conclusion that I am a bit of a knob and I really need to alter them. So here’s my stab at changing them and trying to look at things in a different way.
So considering all of the above, we nailed it. Becoming a parent is life changing. Holidays are no exception. Life, including holidays, is different, but different in a fucking awesome way.
For more on family holidays see my Holiday Memoirs
If you fancy it, go on, give us a vote for Best New Blog maybe?
I am a bugger for being way to critical on myself especially when things don’t turn out exactly like I imagined. Sometimes though, I really need to pay attention to the voices in my head and accept what they are telling me and that I can quite frankly be a bit of a knob. This is especially true when it comes to family holidays. Here’s 10 reasons why……
I had intended this post to be an informative and useful one. One in which would be bursting with advice and offering comfort and reassurance. I was going to stray away from my usual sarcastic tone and provide you with my top (serious) tips for flying long haul with the kids (whilst trying not to swear). I had visions of this post being a serious attempt at providing a sound, constructive, tried and tested guide to getting you and your little ones through a long haul flight.
I wanted to discuss all sorts of things. I wanted to take you through preparation, including organising activities to keep the cherubs entertained, through to handling mid-flight tantrums. I wanted to talk about my top tips for success including sticking to routine and how to cope when boredom sets in. It was going to be amazing. A proper parenting post with pictures and everything.
However, like most things, my good intentions ultimately turn into a steamy pile of shit.
Booked it, packed it, fucked off.
Was pretty much how we used to roll in our pre-children days. We picked out a destination with minimal criteria – just because that’s where we fancied going. We packed the night before as we didn’t need much. Then we literally got up and walked out the door; we fucked off. There was little preparation, it was quite simple; bikini, flip flops, passports, tickets, all in our carry on bag because we wanted to walk straight of the plane into the nearest bar or restaurant (obviously not in a bikini, I did take a couple of dresses, merely trying to illustrate the simplicity here. Oh and not forgetting the make-up, as if).
It was simple.