Blimey, this post is proving hard to write. I wanted to post about our summer holidays but it kind of ended as a bit of a whinge fest. But conversely I need to dump it out of my head...
Basically I can sum up our holidays as Guilt v Gratitude. I have been feeling so guilty at the perceived rubbish time I feel the children have had, being stuck with their rubbish mum.
I've got into the habit of automatically thinking these summer holidays are hard. But the real problem is with that word holidays. Images of entertainment and adventure and novelty spring to mind. If you read the media (and some blogs) you would think these six weeks would either bankrupt or exhaust you or both.
Honestly. Is it necessary?
When I really think about it, which is usually during those rather clarifying moments as I relax into sleep, the word that springs to my mind is cosy. My children may disagree and think "boring" but as it's my blog and not theirs we'll go with my word.
Hubby has had no time off work. There's been no holiday. No camping trips. No festival. But this is what there has been:
- Fruit picking
- Cinema trips
- A train ride
- Numerous trips to the library
- Numerous trips to coffee shops
- A few friends round to play
- A trip to a local museum
- Badger watching
- A trip to the Isle of Wight
- Breakfast at the park
- Lots of park visiting
- Breakfast at a beach cafe
- Tennis playing
- Lots of creating and playing
- A fair amount of squabbling and boredom.
Rather like my own childhood summer holidays. I can't tell you how sick I am of modern parenting where to be thought of as a good parent you have to pull out all the stops nearly all of the time. Life for children, as well as the poor things themselves, has to be nigh on perfect.
Well it isn't. I'm choosing to focus on gratitude. My children have a lot, really. More than the majority of the world's children. I was going to say that these summer holidays have been good enough but you know what? They've been more than that. Much more.