We have just returned from a week away and I feel anything other than well-rested.
Holidays before kids felt like holidays. Whether it was with my partner or with friends, wherever we were, we would do not a lot. Even the word holiday takes me to a sun-baked beach, where we would just lay with our books for hours, before one of us might suggest a stroll to get food, a drink or an ice-cream, having already eaten anything we had brought with us from the breakfast buffet. It would be so slow, it would be almost boring. I’d often day dream of venturing away from where we were sat, to see more of wherever we were, but the heat would fix me in my spot. There was no way I was doing much more than laying down with my back to the sun.
Holidays are intentionally slow to encourage rest, but with kids? It isn’t the same. The breaks we may have are not holidays as such, just parenting in a different location.
Usually a week where my partner is off work allows some time for me to have some time alone - or to do what I like to do away from my children - it allows some time for ourselves - but this week has felt like a marathon of being in demand and I am ready to collapse.
It has not been an easy week. Kids like routine and being away from home brings up all manor of issues. My picky toddler, as I have mentioned previously, isn’t very adventurous with his food and insists most nights on pesto pasta, a dish which seems to be almost impossible to buy out anywhere, another favourite of his is often defined in the breakfast menu but at breakfast he screams that it’s not time for eggs on toast. If it weren’t for the snacks I had brought with me, or ice-cream and chocolate buttons, I don’t think he would have eaten anything at all.
Bedtimes were also a challenge with light, noisy and unfamiliar environments but luckily they did sleep mostly well once we managed to get them down, but instead of hopping to the hotel bar and grabbing a glass of wine like we might have done before kids, we pulled on our own pyjamas and went to sleep when they did because we were all in the same room.
We travelled far with full days on the motorway and our only chance of rest, and our chance to gain some real miles without needing to stop, was when the two of them would sleep. But they didn’t fall asleep at the same time, which meant there was always a reason to stop and there was always someone moaning and demanding something from me (as the non-driver).
In a way the three year old was easier, at least he could tell me what he wanted, (or what he thought he wanted) but the 18 month old would just make noises and point, only for me to throw toys or snacks at him hoping that something would quieten him down for more than sixty seconds. (Spoiler: few things did.)
I wasn’t the one driving but I felt constantly in demand. I thought of the book and the notebook in my bag and thought what a fool I had been thinking I would even get to look at them. Even at night as we lay in the dark while they slept, I was so drained by the day I hadn’t the energy to read my SubStack newsletters; I had nothing left.
So I had a terrible time.
Well that’s not actually true. It was actually magical. I guess what made the travelling worthwhile was that we were meeting friends. Two special friends from separate times in my life - (they don’t know each other) living in Newcastle and Edinburgh, they are both very important to me. They often come to London so I thought they were both due a visit from us.
Burntisland, Fife.
I have mentioned before that I really value my long distance friends and when, to my surprise, my partner agreed to drive us up to visit them, I was so excited. I thought of how idyllic it would be meeting them in their hometowns with our little family, picturing sandy beaches and endless sunshine - and funnily enough the days when we did meet them were picture postcard perfect. The children were lovely happy little people and aside from a little heat exhaustion and travel sickness, they were their best selves for our hosts - the pictures of the holiday will show what my memories will hold on to - the smiling faces, the laughter and the love.
Tynemouth, Newcastle.
After meeting my friend in Newcastle she had mentioned walking onwards along the coast to the next Metro station but she voiced what my face was giving way, “Kylie, you look knackered.” And honestly, I was, but I was happy. I think of that afternoon sitting in an Italian restaurant, with my son in between me and her, as he edged closer to her with his gelato, not wanting to share it with anyone. I’ll think of the way my heart felt full when he played with our friends, or told them his stories and the things he liked, or showing them how he digs a hole in the sand with his excavator.
Kids are funny because they hate change but they do warm up pretty quickly, and this is perhaps the learning I will take from this trip. Changes in routine and environment are easily felt by them and they react, of course they do, but they do get used to it and in a way I think we would have had a more restful time if we had stayed longer in each place and I may well have benefited from knowing that any upset was only going to be temporary.
It wasn’t a holiday like the old days, but we made it our own and there were lots of things about the trip which my kids loved. We found a few great swing parks, one of which we could watch trains go past fairly regularly. There were discoveries and new experiences: it was the first time they had seen lots of animals - a cow, sheep, snakes and chickens - the noises of which they both had in their arsenal ready to communicate with them. As their mother, it was great to see them thrive in these new environments, to see their faces of wonder or more often, confusion.
So whilst holidays used to be relaxing, I know that isn’t what we are going to get now, but what makes it worthwhile is the connection and the discoveries. They are only young and I don’t know if they will remember going to Newcastle or Edinburgh, and meeting our friends, but I know I will.