Fear of summer holidays – FOSH

saltwatersI first heard the term FOMO (fear of missing out) a couple of years ago. Referring as it does to social butterflies who have so many exciting invitations that they get stressed over which ones to accept or turn down, it doesn’t really speak to my current life stage.

No, four letter acronym I am suffering from is FOSH (fear of summer holidays). And if no-one else has coined it yet, then they bloody ought to have done, because it’s a real thing, people.

It’s fair to say that I usually approach the long summer holidays with mixed feelings. Part relief and excitement at the freedom from school runs, homework and forgotten PE kits, and actually spending time with my daughter without having to scream instructions at her every thirty seconds (Eat your breakfast! Clean your teeth! Wash your face! Don’t forget your book bag!), and part trepidation at what I’m actually going to do with her for six weeks. My husband points out that my response to this has generally been to manically overschedule, with a plethora of breaks away, day trips, playdates and planned activities at home, meaning that come the end of August I look back wistfully and wish I’d left more time for us to just hang out.

This year, however, FOSH has reached new levels, because not only is my 8 year old on holiday from school, but my 2.5 year old is on holiday from preschool! At the moment she goes to preschool on a Monday, Tuesday and Friday morning, and my MIL looks after her on a Thursday morning. This gives me a chance to do some writing, some household chores and a much needed break from the 24/7 demands of a toddler. I value these breaks like you wouldn’t believe, and generally feel I am a more patient, more creative, and more relaxed mother because of them.

Yesterday was Wednesday, our full day together. The day kicked off with a little light regurgitated-mouse-innard removal from the dining room floor before breakfast. To be fair, that was the cat’s fault rather than the toddler’s, but it set the tone for the day. Half an hour later I was picking up pieces of squidged orange and banana from under the high chair, with toddler still in high chair (schoolgirl error, when will I learn?), when she decided to grab a large chunk of my hair and pull. Hard. I couldn’t physically stop her, as my hands were covered in half-chewed fruit. I tried the voice of sweet reason, to absolutely no avail. I tried my best stern and forceful tone. Nuh-uh. In the end I had to just pull away, leaving a chunk of my hair clasped in her chubby little fist.

We went to a drop-in session at a local nursery, which was fun (lots of interesting toys, outdoor space and other children), and then back home to recommence the combination of coaxing, cajoling, bribery, threats and straightforward physical force to get her to do things like eat lunch, stop the kamikaze furniture surfing, wash her hands after using the potty, let me wipe her bottom after using the potty, have suncream applied, go down for a nap etc etc.

By the time she fell asleep at about 1pm, I was also exhausted. I had a quick break to eat my lunch and look at other people’s beautiful and organised lives on Instagram, and then cracked on with prepping some food and clearing the kitchen. When she woke up we played with her Peppa Pig toys and dolls house, and all was going well until she (more or less accidentally) whacked me in the eye with the sharp corner of a wooden doll’s house sink. In any other work place this would be a trip to  the First Aider, an entry in the accident book, and possibly an early finish. In SAHM world you just thank goodness the weather justifies sunglasses on the school run to hide the tear stains and the swelling!

After school we’re back to the cacophony of voices chattering away to me simultaneously, neither giving any acknowledgement that the other is speaking, or cutting me any slack if I don’t respond instantly and in full.

This is interspersed with the coax/cajole/bribe/threat/force routine in order to get tea eaten, bath taken, teeth cleaned, etc. And a bit more floor wiping, when, in excitement at having done a poo in her potty, the toddler jumps round the room, oblivious to fact that I haven’t yet cleaned her up, and every leap send another little splatter of excrement across the room.

Finally, it is 7.30pm, and the moment I heard husband’s key in the door I was off out of it, desperate to escape the four walls of the house and the ceaseless demands, and have a little walk by myself. By the time I got home, husband had miraculously got the small one to sleep and the big one showered and to bed. All that was left to do was pour a, frankly well-deserved, glass of wine, and cook our dinner, safe in the knowledge that today is a MIL day, and I would get three blissful hours of sanity saving time alone with my laptop.

But in the summer holidays, every day will be a Wednesday. Except that I will have both children and their competing demands with me all day, all the Under 5 activities are close, and when the toddler naps I will feel duty-bound to give the big girl some undivided attention, rather than flaking out and catching up on jobs. Excuse me while I scream rather loudly, please.

We didn’t plan an almost six year age gap between our children, but by and large, it has worked out pretty well. However, I fear that these holidays are going to test us. There aren’t that many things that an 8 year old and a 2 year old both want to do. And those that there are (playground, swimming, baking) require me to give all my attention to the 2 year old, in order to ensure that she doesn’t destroy herself/anyone else/the house, leaving the 8 year old feeling a bit grumpy and neglected, and me feeling more than a bit guilty. When you throw in the demands of potty training, and the fact that toddler only really naps well in her cot, and if she doesn’t get her nap, certainly if she doesn’t get it for a couple of days on the run, then she becomes unmanageably grumpy and difficult, then we’re more than a bit limited in what we can do.

It’s not all bad. We’re spending a week on holiday with my parents, and another week away with my MIL, plus almost a week of other family visits. That will be a change of scene (don’t think about the 6 hour train journey. Repeat after me, DO NOT think about the six hour train journey), and some extra pairs of hands to share the load. At the moment husband is working 12-14 hour days, but he is hoping that things may calm down a bit in the next few weeks, so he might be around a little more too.

As long as I firmly suppress any thoughts of Pinterest worth craft activities, wholesome outdoor fun as they play contentedly together, any nutritional intake over and above mini Magnums, or actually anything beyond basic survival, then I’m sure it will all be fine.

 

 

 

Serendipitous Summer

Ten days into the summer holidays and two children and one mummy are alive, well and on pretty good form. Still thirty-five days to go; so more than enough time for my smugness to come back to bite me on the bottom, but you know, celebrate the little wins and all that.

The previous few summers have been packed with plans for adventures home and away. We’ve had some brilliant times, but I was also left feeling a little bit like we’d missed out on time to just be. Hang out. Have pyjama days. Wake up and decide to go off on a trip impulsively because it’s a sunny day. Bake lots of cakes. Have picnics in our own back garden. So this year we have gone far more free range.

Anna is spending a few days with Nanna and Grandad in Liverpool, and a few days with Granny in Cornwall. Husband is overwhelmingly busy with his new business, but he is hoping to take a few days off at the end of August for a staycation when we will treat London as the world class, world famous holiday destination it is to people who don’t live here. The money we save on travel and accommodation will mean that we can easily afford to splash out on treats we wouldn’t normally indulge in, and that we can eat out, or have takeaways or posh ready meal/deli bits for Every Single Meal – no cooking, very little washing up!

That still leaves about four weeks free for all the other stuff. And it’s going brilliantly. I’ve had the odd pang of envy when my Facebook or Instagram feed show people off on their holidays to far-flung, exotic, sunny locations, but hey, the entire purpose of Facebook and Instagram is to engender pangs of envy, surely? And this morning, as we were on our way to the local playground and I got a text from one of our closest friends to say that he and his kids were at a loose end and could they pop over for lunch, the joy of being able to text back a resounding ‘YES’ was amazing. We had our session at the playground, popped into to the local shop to buy cheese, ham, bread, dips, tomatoes and fruit as our cupboards were totally bare pending the Sainsbury’s delivery this afternoon, and then home to enjoy the company of our unexpected guests. Nothing life-changing. The bigger girls played an elaborate game with Anna’s old Peppa Pig figures, whilst listening to a Paddington CD. The toddlers roared round the house on the ride-on toys scattering breadstick crumbs in their wake. We had five minute intervals of adult conversation interspersed with child control. I whizzed up a chocolate sauce to turn the boring fruit pudding into a much more interesting chocolate fondue. It was a relaxing, fun day of the kind we haven’t had many of in our last few scheduled-to-within-an-inch-of-their-life summers.

It’s not just today. Last week, for example, we went for a quick walk round the block, bumped into one of Anna’s closest school friends and her mum and brother, went for milkshakes at the local cafe, then to the playground where we came across more friends from school and their parents. The children ran around like crazy things, with Sophia desperately following on behind. The adults chatted, and gave into several requests for “five more minutes”, before heading home far too late to prepare the sensible fish pie I’d planned, meaning that the children (uncomplainingly!) had eggs, beans and potato croquettes for tea. A good time was definitely had by all.

I am absolutely not the most spontaneous person in the world, but I’m finding this manageable degree of spontaneity really relaxing. And there’s no denying that not having to spend half my time writing elaborate packing lists or living out of a suitcase is enjoyable as well. I love travel, and in future summers I very much hope we’ll be off on our adventures again. But for now, the stage Sophia is at and the busyness of our lives over the last few months means that chilling at home and letting our little mini-adventures serendipitously discover us feels like exactly the right thing to be doing.

saltwaters

 

End of an era

Well, in just over half an hour I will go and pick Anna up from her last ever day at Infants. Where did that time go? It feels like yesterday we took her for her very first day in Reception, and then husband and I went out for lunch afterwards to take our minds off worrying about her constantly until it was pick up time. And now it’s all done. That little girl, barely out of the toddler phase, has grown up so much, developed her independence, learnt to read and write and do fractions. Learnt to manage, and thrive, without mummy around for most of the day.

We couldn’t have asked for a better school, and she has loved pretty much every minute. Juniors is part of the same school, but on a different site, so moving up feels like a bigger deal than I think it might for some people. Anna is looking forward to it, mainly: “a bit nervous, but excited nervous if you know what I mean, Mummy”, and I know she will cope just fine. Better than fine, I think she’ll relish new challenges and new experiences. She is ready and eager to grow up and move on, and I’m so proud watching her, whilst also wanting to press Pause, just for a little while and keep my little girl little for a little bit longer.

Before Juniors, though, we have a summer to look forward to. She has eagerly anticipated trips planned to see and stay with both sets of grandparents, and I’ve been making a list of activities and day trips which work for a 7 year old and a 19 month old. It’s quite short so far, but actually if the weather carries on like this then they’re both pretty happy playing various very splashy games in their tiny paddling pool in our tiny garden with an ice-cream every so often.

Here’s to some lazy, hazy, crazy summer days which contain no school runs. Here’s to making the most of both children at the lovely ages they are right now. Here’s to me remembering to keep the freezer stocked with Mini Magnums and the fridge stocked with post-bedtime white wine. And here’s to my patience not totally deserting me by the middle of next week, leaving me desperate for Anna to go back to school, any school, just as long as I get some peace and quiet! Happy Summer, everyone.

summer fun

 

School’s (almost) out for the summer!

In just under an hour I’ll be collecting Anna from school for her six week holiday, and I Just. Can’t. Wait. This has been such a long half-term, at the end of the year which has seen the biggest change in her life, and she is exhausted. Absolutely on her knees. I’m longing to have her at home to cosset and cuddle and just hang out with. Six whole weeks when I don’t have to spend the first ninety minutes of the day barking instructions – “Eat your porridge, finish your milk, clear your dishes, clean your teeth, wash your face, get dressed, find your sunhat/bag/water bottle/hoodie/gloves/bookbag/homework folder, put your shoes on.” And, above all “Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up!”.

I’m quite proud of myself, though. A whole school year during which I have been at various points, heavily pregnant, recovering from a c-section, recovering from a broken foot and looking after a newborn baby, and Anna has only collected one late mark (caused by a last minute poonami from her sister which required a full change of clothes for me and her. Don’t ask.) The rest of the time, come hell or high water, we have screeched through the school gates at 8.50am. Other than the days when my parents have been here. “I don’t have to run the last bit when Grandad takes me to school, Mummy”, Anna informed me the other morning.

After our adventures last summer and at Easter we’re keeping things fairly low-key this summer. A trip up to Liverpool to stay with my parents next week, a week at my mother-in-law’s flat in Penzance later on in the summer, and then a couple of days in North Wales with my mum and dad again at the end of the summer. This is partly because my husband has a busy autumn coming up at work and so can’t take much time off, and partly because Sophia is seven months, eating solids and desperate to crawl, and therefore not a particularly rewarding travelling companion at present. I think it also works out really well for Anna, though, as she needs some time to just be.

No doubt a lot of her time is going to be spent reading. About two months ago, she suddenly ‘got’ it, and went almost over night from painstakingly sounding out the fascinating (ahem) adventures of Chip, Kipper and Biff in the school reading books to devouring chapter books as quickly as she can get her hands on them. Roald Dahl, Francesca Simon’s ‘Horrid Henry’ books, the Worst Witch, My Naughty Little Sister, Enid Blyton – her tastes are pleasingly eclectic, and, like mother like daughter, she is more often than not to be found with her head in a book. I’m loving re-visting my own childhood favourites with her. At the moment we’re reading the Ramona books, by American author Beverley Cleary, together, and I think I might almost be enjoying them more as an adult than I did as a child.

Anna journalWriting is still more of a challenge for Anna, although she is making good progress. We were chatting to her teacher about how we could encourage her to keep writing in a fun and enjoyable way over the summer so that she doesn’t lose her mojo, and she suggested we got her to keep a diary. Next thing I know, yesterday morning Miss M handed me a beautifully wrapped parcel. When Anna opened it, inside was a personalised decoupaged journal for her to use over the summer. Anna is so thrilled and excited, and I am incredibly touched and impressed. One of my closest friends is a teacher, and I know from her how difficult and stressful and exhausting the summer term is for teachers. Yet in the midst of organising school trips and sports days, and writing reports, she has found the time to do this because she wants to encourage Anna to keep up with her newly developing skill. Teachers are amazing.

I’m not sure how much time I’ll get to blog over the next few weeks, but hopefully I’ll have my girl’s diary to look back on as a record of our summer.

The long and short of it

It’s a bit of a funny time at the moment. After a few months of pregnancy-induced exhaustion, where not very much at all got done, my energy levels are starting to rise again. That’s probably just as well, because my third book isn’t going to write itself, I still want to promote To Have and to Hold wherever and whenever possible, and in a moment of madness I suggested to my agent that possibly writing an e-book short story might be a good idea. She and my editor both agreed, so now that has found it’s way onto my to do list as well. Over and above work things, I also want to try and catch up with friends I’ve pretty much ignored since April (apologies, by the way, if you’re one of those), and it turns out that being mum to a Reception age child at the end of the summer term is pretty much a full-time job as well.

In the next three weeks I am helping out on the Reception school trip (120 five year olds going by bus to the park in forecast temperatures of 26 degrees. What could possibly go wrong?), attending Sports Day, Parents Evening, Reception Strawberry Tea, finishing the Family Literacy Course I’ve been attending for last 8 weeks, and very possibly having the pleasure of an extra day of Anna’s company if the NUT strike as planned next week. Hard on the heels of all that is a six week summer break, when, with the best will in the world, I can’t see much writing happening.

I reckon I have eight days of Anna-in-school time, when parents are not expected to attend for any reason, left before the holidays. Chances of me knocking out a 20,000 word short story in that time?