Scrolling Instagram recently, I saw a reel that caught my attention. ‘How I’ll be surviving the next 6 weeks,’ read the caption, over a video of a garden table, kids’ football net in the background, before a Margarita cocktail slowly slid into frame.
It is just one of the countless such videos that have started appearing on my social media feeds now that the school holidays have arrived. There are countless countdowns to September, jokes about finding the correct wine to pair with the hassle of the holidays, work and childcare and parents pretending to be coats hanging on the bottom of the stairs as a way of hiding from their kids.
On first viewing, it’s humorous and entirely relatable – the six-week holidays are not easy for any parent. I understand why those posts resonate.
When did time with children become something to endure?
But I do wonder when we started talking about spending time with our own children as though it’s something to endure. It makes me uneasy that the school holidays have gone from another parenting challenge, with all the highs and lows that brings, to being seen as six weeks to survive.
Perhaps the problem isn’t the holidays at all. Perhaps it’s the impossible expectations that we’ve attached to them. For parents who work, the summer holidays can feel like a logistical puzzle. You’re trying to stretch annual leave across six weeks, find childcare that doesn’t cost a small fortune, book holiday clubs before they sell out and somehow continue doing your job. For parents who are at home with their children over the summer, the challenges are different, but no less real.
Let’s not pretend either version is easy – it’s no wonder parents are exhausted before August has even arrived.
Our family’s ordinary summer
Our family isn’t like that, though, because, to be very honest, I don’t agree with all the hype attached to the annual break. We have a family holiday together, which we all look forward to, but once we’re home, the summer holidays are pretty ordinary.
I was savvy enough to marry a teacher, meaning we don’t have the stress of juggling work and childcare, as so many families do – and trust me, I get how privileged we are to have that luxury. While I crack on with work, hubby takes on the bulk of ensuring the kids are kept fed and entertained, but that doesn’t mean there is a carefully curated bucket list pinned to the fridge, or a colour-coded spreadsheet of activities. Some days, there is absolutely nothing planned. Some days, my children, Ella, 13, and Leo, 9, moan that they’re bored. For about ten minutes, anyhow, then something marvellous happens.
My son goes out to see a friend who’s also at home. My daughter disappears upstairs to listen to music or read, or she organises meeting up with her friends. None of it would make for an interesting Instagram Reel, I am sure, but who cares, when all of it looks remarkably like how childhood should be – a challenge for parents, a joy for kids, and none of it a battle for survival.
Childhood memories without constant stimulation
When I think back to my own summer holidays, I don’t remember my parents desperately trying to keep me entertained every waking hour. I remember riding my bike. Hanging out with friends. Watching television when it rained. No one panicked because I’d run out of activities or worried that an ordinary Tuesday wasn’t making Insta-worthy moments. And yet those are some of my happiest childhood memories.
I can’t help wondering whether we’ve made parenting harder than it needs to be. Social media certainly hasn’t helped. Open Instagram in July, and it’s easy to feel as though every other family is enjoying idyllic beach days, elaborate picnics, beautifully organised crafts and expensive adventures. On the other hand, it’s equally easy to see content that makes you think of the break as some kind of endurance test.
The irony is that the memories children treasure most are often the ones we never planned. Sleeping in a tent in the garden. An impromptu water fight. Staying up a little later because there’s no school in the morning. Finding friends to play football on the green until they’re called home for dinner. Those moments don’t cost hundreds of pounds, and they don’t need booking months in advance. They don’t require us to exhaust ourselves trying to make every day extraordinary while seeing the whole summer as an ordeal to get through.
Of course, there’s nothing wrong with planning fun days out if that’s what you enjoy and your budget allows. I’m not suggesting you shouldn’t do that with your children, but no parent should ever feel under pressure to do so. And no-one should think of weeks of time with our kids as something to endure. Sometimes the best way to survive is when we lower the bar and stop trying so hard.
Children don’t need six weeks of constant stimulation. So yes, the school holidays can be hard. Whether you’re juggling childcare and work or spending every day at home with your children, there’s no denying they’re intense. But perhaps this year, instead of asking how we’re going to survive the next six weeks, we should ask ourselves a different question. What if we stopped trying to survive them, and simply slowed down enough to try and enjoy them?
