So here we are again at the end of the long, hot summer holidays and as always I’m stuck somewhere between elation and sadness at my kids going back to school.
On paper and (in social media photos) it’s been an idyllic summer with a holiday in Ibiza , a long trip to Scotland visiting relatives and lots of fun days out. However, amongst all that joy and fun, over the last few weeks, there has also been a HUGE amount of fighting, shouting and nagging.
Even halfway through the drive to Fort William, through the stunning scenery of Glencoe, I skidded into a parking place. Not to take a photo of one of the most beautiful and famous views in the world, but to berate my daughter for drawing in felt-tip on her brother. There have been fights on the stairs of the ferry, fights over the window seat on the plane, fights over who has the largest icecream/water/crisps/chocolate and just when I thought we’d exhausted all possible different reasons and unusual places for a fight, there was the FIGHT IN THE THEATRE!!! Yep, just as the curtain went up on Horrible Histories, my kids stood up to try to bash the living daylights out of each other.
AND can we talk about the food? When you have a newborn you are BOMBARDED by people advising that you absolutely MUST breastfeed, there should be a parenting course for the next bit, as no one warns you about how much your children will eat.. Someone needs to prepare you and say “you’ll end up with a perpetually stiff neck from humping around a large bag full of sodding snacks and gallons of water for years” - with the additional disclosure that as soon as you get anywhere selling a different selection of snacks, your kids will no longer want the ones they absolutely insisted that you bring with you. Not to mention the water, I’m pretty sure my mum didn’t continually hump 3 litres of water like an overworked camel, with her everywhere…
Anyway, in short this holiday has been a mixed bag and in recent days a difficult one for me. I’ve shouted, I’ve screamed, I’ve cried. I’ve continually questioned my ability as a parent, I’ve berated that I’m often tired, I’ve wished I was back in full-time work and debated that my children would be better in full-time holiday clubs or, indeed, anywhere that I’m not. It’s just been too long and at times it's almost broken me.
However, there have been more moments of happiness and the purest love. The cuddles, the snuggles, the smiles, the sound of my children laughing, the sibling love, the little hands in mine, the smothering kisses and the many “I love you Mummy” moments. The absolute joy of parenting, the unbreakable bond and love I have as a mother. Gratitude too; I came to this game late and I’m always immensely grateful that I didn’t suffer the heartbreak of fertility struggles. I’m conscious of how incredibly lucky I am to have been blessed with the precious gift of motherhood. I’m also, well aware that in another a few years, my children will probably not want or need my company continually and I know I’ll mourn the loss of these times.
The start of the new term also marks my children being a year older, my life with them as young kids sliding away from me quicker than I’d like. I want to absorb every bit of this time with them, to store it for those days when they no longer need me in quite the same way. I know that one day, my rose tinted spectacles will mist up and I’ll yearn to relive this long, hot summer once again. So, when I drop my children at the gate in their shiny new school shoes, I won’t be jumping for joy. There will be a little lump in my throat, as I wave goodbye and quickly turn my back so they don’t see the glimmer of a tear in my eye… then I’ll stride off to enjoy a bitter sweet coffee in peace for the first time in 6 weeks!
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