Why I dread the school holidays, by one VERY honest mum we can all relate to

The sun is shining. Mums and dads wait expectantly at the school gates.

The bell rings and a stampede of joyous, pink-faced, whooping children career towards us. They’re happy – bless them.

Of course they’re happy – it’s the end of the summer term and they have over six weeks ahead of them of unfettered leisuretime, of picnics in flowery meadows, treasure hunts in the park and all-inclusive holidays promising fun for all the family.

For them, six shiny sunny weeks of fun and joy lie ahead – but for me, it’s six weeks of HELL.

I look at the faces of the other mums and dads and wonder if they’re silently screaming inside while they coo over their kids’ unspeakable artwork?

Are they already imagining downing a bottle of vodka in a darkened room with no windows even as they dole out KitKats and Hula-Hoops?

I’m a working mum. I have one husband (so far), one ten-year-old daughter (Child 1)  whose life ambition is to dye her hair Mermaid, and one nine-year-old son ( Child 2) who likes to fashion his own weapons out of nails he finds on the street and broken biro cases (he breaks the biro cases for this purpose. They don’t come broken).

I regularly try to explain to my kids that I have an actual JOB – one outside of ordering them stuff on Amazon or sourcing Bluetooth-enabled fidget spinners.

They choose to ignore this inconvenient truth. The Husband is well-intentioned but of no obvious help.

He claims to be sending “career-critical” emails at the kids’ bedtime and that spending hours in the gym is beneficial to all the family as it lessens the chances of him dropping dead. If he did, I may not notice for several days.

So why do I dread the holidays so much? Without even mentioning all the childcare juggling - the begging of grandparents, family and even complete strangers to look after my kids in order for me to not lose my job - here’s how my average summer holidays go:

WEEK 1

We start with the best intentions. We bake cakes.  We tidy up the garden.  A screen ban is imposed from 8am – 6pm.

Both sets of grandparents are happy to help out. They organise a happy day’s trip to the zoo. I allow finger-painting and papier-mâché pigs.

I am totally Zen with the kids painting the dog orange – I am allowing them to express their creativity. Classrooms? Pah. Timetables and rules? Double pah. Not on my shift.

It’s the summer holidays! Let the poor kids enjoy themselves, explore their interests, have some freedom. I am so smug in my parenting skills that I even invite MORE kids over to add their own personal touches to my home. Who cares about stains on the carpet? Who needs carpet when you’re dead?

WEEK 2

The grandparents’ offers of help quietly disappear. Oh and the day at the zoo was aborted when Child 1 was caught shoplifting in the gift shop.

But of course it’s difficult for kids to adjust after a long term at school! They’re just testing boundaries, working off all that childish exuberance.

I take the kids in to work for the day. Child 2 is in biro-heaven and fashions several lethal blades out of staples and drawing pins, then says jokingly to my boss that he’ll “cut him”.

With no screens between 8 and 6, the kids play complicated blind-tasting games, which involves taking all the food out the cupboards and making ketchup-and-peanut-butter cocktails.

I haven’t had time to clean the house – it’s a bombsite and the rubbish is overflowing onto the kitchen floor.

But the little ones are having the time of their lives – you’re only a child once right? And haven’t these two weeks flown by?!

WEEK 3

The husband re-emerges from the gym and states it’s time to “do his bit” while I get us ready for the family holiday.

This means cooking elaborate meals that the kids refuse to eat, taking them on a country walk where they stage a sit-down protest, and to a museum where Child 1 continues on her criminal path and attempts another gift shop heist.

We go on holiday. An all-inclusive resort in sunny Spain. It does not go well.

Child 1’s mermaid hair dye leaches into the baby pool and forces its closure.

Child 2 declares that he doesn’t like swimming and instead scours the grounds for weapons. The husband burns his bald spot and gets a stomach bug. The ensuite is a no-go zone.

WEEK 4

Back home and it’s Movie Week! The screen ban is lifted. Full access to any electronic device is not only permitted, but encouraged.

WEEK 5

I encourage the children to “play outside”. Not all A-roads are dangerous.

WEEK 6

I’m in a darkened room with no windows. I have a large bottle of vodka. It may not be enough.

Enjoyed this? Here are ten things all mums think on the first day of the school summer holidays.