I have a love-hate relationship with school holidays.
On one hand I do love having the little people at home with me. Spending time together. #makingmemories
It’s a massive relief to not have to do the school run. And by the end of the term, both boys are sorely in need of a rest away from the structure and routine of school.
On the other hand…..
It turns my children feral
Absolutely crazy.
At first I put it down to the excitement of Christmas. Then I remembered the long, long, summer holiday where they had me driven up a wall.
So now I realise it’s school holidays.
Their inner beasts which are contained during the school term and suppressed with tiredness from a long day of learning are unleashed in full force.
The energy they can exude astounds me. I can literally watch them run rings around a playground for two hours straight, come home and run around our compound for the remaining three hours. I would like just a little bit of that please!
Then there is the matter of their relationship with each other. They can only be the BEST of friends or the WORST of enemies.
Five minutes (yep that’s about the limit) of peaceful play is often interrupted by a raising wail of “he hiiiiiiit me” swiftly followed by a denial. For them to make things up in a matter of minutes to run away and create a tornado through the house as they play their latest imaginary superhero game. Which as far as I can tell involves mixing and matching the costumes we have and stealing snacks from the fridge.
The problem is I can’t keep up. Or get over the headache from the squealing. And the bouncing. And the general tornado feralness that goes in.
So we get outside as much as possible. We have play dates, safety in numbers and all that. Head to other people’s houses where they will behave impeccably and make me wonder if I imagined the morning where they wrestled over a piece of toast.
Physically wrestled.
Over toast….
We add in fun trips to soft play, or KidzMundo, or the cinema. We have date days and coffee out. We “make memories”. And our bank balance cries after it’s all over.
Add a new baby to the mix….
And of course this school holidays has seen the arrival of our littlest man. With me being pretty much housebound after my c-section and my husband being back at work.
No car, no trips out.
Feralness at it’s finest.
They’ve torn through the house screaming at the playmobil men that there’s a fire we need to get to, before turning on each other.
One has sat nicely colouring, making maps, then its descended into chaos and “Mummmmmmmmmy he drew on my paper” as the other thinks up ways to wind him up.
And then of course there is the baby.
The baby who wakes through the night and wants cuddles through the day. The baby who is loved by everyone, sometimes a little too enthusiastically.
One where fingers go in his mouth and constant cuddles (or squashes are given). Where the phrase I keep uttering is “give him some space” or “get out of his face” even though it’s adorable to see how much they love him. It’s safe to say he doesn’t always feel the same way.
When all is said and done
And I listen to them playing work together, scheming together and watching their relationship grow stronger.
As we head out as much as I’m able and I can see how far they’ve come with learning to ride a bike.
When I watch them burst into a room, pleased as punch, dressed as Spider-Man or Ironman.
The giggles. The cuddles. The love.
That for every occasion I feel myself losing my shit, or biting my tongue, or rolling my eyes, there is another memory there that’s much nicer. Much more rose tinted.
And those are the ones I remember when I heave a sigh of relief and push them back through the school gates….. until next time.
