Summer Holidays: Making Memories, Losing My Mind & Questions I Wasn't Prepared For

The summer holidays are in full swing and, in my opinion, they are going far too quickly. I always try to spend as much time as possible with the kids during the holidays because I’m very aware that I don’t know how many more summers I’ll get where they actually want to spend all their time with me.

One day they'll be teenagers and I'll be begging them to come on a family day out while they look at me like I've suggested we spend six hours watching paint dry. So I'm trying to soak it all up.

The days out.

The picnics.

The late nights.

The spontaneous plans.

The chaos.

However...

I would also quite like everyone to stop saying MUMMY for approximately 24 hours.

Because I am exhausted.

I genuinely wince slightly now when I hear it.

"Mummyyyy..."

WHAT?

What could you possibly need now?

And WHY does everyone need feeding so often?

Food preparation seems to start approximately four minutes after my eyes open and finishes when I close them again at night.

Breakfast.

Snack.

Another snack.

Lunch.

"Can I have something?"

You literally just ate.

"But I'm hungry."

Snack.

Dinner.

"What's for pudding?"

At this point, I feel less like a mother and more like an underpaid all-inclusive buffet.

Kids Eat Free = Mum's Not Cooking

In an attempt to reduce the amount of time I spend preparing food, we've been making full use of all the kids-eat-free offers over the summer.

And recently we actually had one of those lovely family meals.

You know the ones.

Everyone was behaving.

Nobody was arguing.

Food was eaten.

We were chatting.

It was dangerously close to being one of those picture-perfect, Instagrammable family moments that makes you think:

Look at us. Look how wholesome we are.

We'd planned to go for a walk in the woods afterwards, so my husband took the two eldest to the toilet before we left while I stayed at the table quietly playing Play-Doh with my two-year-old.

Lovely.

Calm.

Peaceful.

And then my nine-year-old came running through the restaurant.

"MUMMY! WHAT IS A VIBRATING RING?"

Kill me.

Kill me now.

How?

HOW IS IT ALWAYS MY CHILDREN?

The restaurant suddenly felt approximately 300% quieter.

I even spotted the couple opposite us sniggering.

Meanwhile, I'm desperately trying to decide whether pretending he isn't mine is still an option.

Then my husband slowly strolls back into the restaurant with our daughter.

I gave him the sort of look that only a wife can give her husband.

You know the one.

The one that says:

You have approximately seven seconds to explain how you've allowed this situation to occur.

Apparently We Celebrate Reading Progress Differently

We got outside, let the children run ahead and I immediately turned to my husband.

"What the actual F was that?!"

Why had he let him read it?

Why had he then allowed him to sprint through an entire restaurant shouting the question?

His response?

"I was just impressed he could read it. It was the only thing on the machine he could read."

And this is where it gets even better.

For anyone who doesn't know, our son is dyslexic and reading has always been a struggle for him.

So apparently my husband had experienced a beautiful parenting moment.

Our son had independently read something unfamiliar.

A proud dad.

A huge achievement.

Unfortunately, the words he'd successfully decoded were:

VIBRATING RING.

There are thousands of words in the English language.

Thousands.

And this is where we are celebrating our literacy wins.

So naturally I followed up with:

"Okay... but WHY did you let him run through the restaurant shouting it?!"

To which my husband replied:

"Well, I didn't really know what to tell him, so I said go and ask Mummy."

FFS.

Thank you.

Enjoying the woods and trying to recover from the embarrassment.

Really appreciate the teamwork.

For anyone who finds themselves in this exact parenting predicament in the future, we went with:

"We're not completely sure. Maybe it's a ring you use when you ask someone to marry you."

And swiftly moved on.

Was it my finest educational moment?

No.

Did it get us out of the restaurant?

Yes.

Sometimes parenting is about survival.

I Think I Need Another Holiday

After that, I decided I was ready for a holiday.

Which I realise is slightly ridiculous because we did actually go away at the beginning of the summer holidays.

But any relaxation I experienced on that trip disappeared somewhere between airport security and the boarding gate.

Because travelling with a two-year-old isn't really a holiday.

It's just parenting somewhere hotter with significantly more luggage.

Our flight, as usual, had been delayed and we'd finally been crammed into the gate ready to board.

You know that lovely airport experience where approximately 200 people are squeezed into a space designed for 14?

Everyone is tired.

Everyone wants to get on the plane.

And that's when my toddler decided it was her time to shine.

She started running around the gate, weaving between passengers at full speed while repeatedly shouting at the absolute top of her lungs:

"WE'RE GOING TO DIE ON THE PLANE! DIE ON THE PLANE! WE'RE GOING TO DIE ON THE PLANE!"

On repeat.

Wonderful.

So now imagine me speed-walking in a zigzag through an airport departure gate trying to catch her.

Not running.

Because running makes it look serious.

Just that aggressive mum power-walk.

While simultaneously whisper-shouting:

"STOP SAYING THAT!"

and desperately hoping that nobody around us can actually understand what she's saying.

Meanwhile, her older brother and sister are absolutely belly laughing

Completely useless.

And my husband?

He had apparently made the decision that he no longer knew any of us.

I don't even blame him.

The Walk of Shame

Eventually, we boarded.

And maybe it was my imagination...

But I swear I could feel the stares as we walked down the aisle looking for our seats.

"Oh great. It's the death-on-the-plane family."

That walk felt approximately six miles long.

I wanted to announce:

"She's two! She has no aviation knowledge! This is not a prediction!"

Thankfully, we did not die on the plane.

She actually behaved beautifully for the entire flight.

Obviously.

Because toddlers like to destroy your reputation first and then sit quietly eating crisps like nothing happened.

The Summer Holiday Contradiction

And I think that's basically summer holidays with children.

I'm exhausted.

I'm permanently preparing food.

I'm trying to work in tiny pockets of time.

My house is a mess approximately eleven minutes after I've cleaned it.

I've answered 700 questions before breakfast.

I've been publicly asked what a vibrating ring is.

I've chased a toddler through an airport while she predicted our imminent death.

And yet...

I genuinely don't want the summer to end.

Because underneath all the madness, we're making memories.

Not necessarily the beautiful, coordinated-outfit, sunset-picnic memories Instagram would have you believe.

But our memories.

The ridiculous stories we'll tell them when they're older.

The days out.

The laughter.

The completely inappropriate questions.

The holidays.

The moments where you look at your husband and don't even need to speak because you're both thinking:

What the hell is our life?

I'm tired, but I'm also incredibly aware that this stage doesn't last forever.

One day they won't shout "MUMMY!" 4,000 times a day.

One day they won't want me involved in everything.

One day the summer holidays won't mean six weeks together.

So for now, I'm going to try to enjoy the chaos.

Although I reserve the right to hide in the kitchen and eat chocolate where nobody can see me.

A Little Playtime Pioneers Summer Update

And speaking of surviving the summer holidays...

Our Summer Survival offer — 2 Scene Setter Kits for £60 — ENDS TODAY!

And I cannot quite believe how many of you have ordered. I've genuinely loved packing up all your orders and imagining all the little cafés, airports, medical centres and post offices that are about to pop up in homes across the country.

But stock is now very, very low, so if you've been thinking about ordering, please don't leave it much longer.

There are still a few weeks of summer to survive, so maybe — just maybe — a Scene Setter Kit might buy you a little bit of peace while the kids disappear into their own world of roleplay.

Or...

Dare I mention the C word yet?

I know. I'm sorry.

But 2 for £60 = two Christmas presents sorted.

Put them in the cupboard, forget about them for a few months and then feel unbearably smug when December arrives and everyone else is panic buying.

Future you will be delighted with present-day you.

So whether you're trying to end the summer holidays with your sanity intact or secretly getting ahead for Christmas...

2 Scene Setter Kits for £60 ends TODAY and stock is VERY low.

Thank you so much to everyone who has already ordered. I've absolutely loved packing them all — although my living room has looked suspiciously like a small distribution centre at times!

Now go, go, go before they're gone.