GROWING up, holidays seemed to stretch on endlessly, interspersed with lazy moments at the pool, movies and just chilling with friends.
Now, as an adult, working from home with two young children, the holidays seem to stretch on endlessly… but for a very different reason.
As a point of reference, my usual work day consists of waking anywhere between 4am and 6am depending on the offspring.
Then onto avoiding screen time by reading, playing games or just having my children jump on me while I attempt to get four more minutes of sleep.
After a massive cup of extra strong coffee, I make snacks, get the kids dressed and ready for school – a feat in itself – and then gleefully wave goodbye from the doorstep.
Then I lounge about in my bedroom, working on my laptop surrounded by my feline friends, before getting dressed and ready for the day anywhere between 10am and 11.55am before I have to dash off and fetch the kids.
The afternoon is a mess of feeding, naps and playing games while simultaneously trying to type out a story on my battered orange laptop.
And then the holidays descend on us…
So, I’ve had to adapt and innovate my ways of thinking so that I’m able to both work and meet all motherly duties.
My husband is a teacher, which means he’s also home during the holidays. But this generally means I’m trying to work around three people and their demands rather than two.
After a 5am wake-up – why is it always 5am in the holidays?! – we read, play, fight, cry, eat, play…and then it’s 6am.
Having fought it for as long as my willpower will allow, the television goes on, and I do some work while Blaze and the Monster Machines teach my kids all about tensile strength.
After an hour of this, it’s another snack time and then clean up in aisle 6 because the toddler refused to go to the toilet despite reminding him 52 times.
Then a call to a friend/relative/kindly stranger to ask if they feel like a play date … if I’m in luck, it’s a solid two-hour gap to get some work done with a 5-minute power nap to survive.
The Chaos Kids return and, hopefully, one will sleep while the other plays quietly – or moans consistently at me – for an hour or so.
After lunch, I have to abandon all hope of work and we take to the streets, riding bikes, looking for lucky beans or swimming in any nearby body of water.
It’s 4 o’clock, which some might claim is too early for a drink, but they’d be wrong, and time to get started on some form of dinner which inevitably ends in me fighting them to eat their vegetables while crying into my wine.
Finally, finally it is bath time – almost there – and then bedtime followed by two hours of delay (I’m thirsty, I need the loo, where’s my turtle?) and eventually sleep.
And that’s day one of the holidays done.
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