One of the reasons I worry about – as well as look forward to – the holiday season is the intimidating expense. I have four daughters, so it can add up to a fair sum. But here’s the rub – two of my daughters are now 22 and 20. And although I have checked my imaginary copy of Universal and Incontrovertible Facts About Being a Parent, no guidance is given about how long one is responsible for providing all-expenses-included holidays for one’s older offspring.
The problem in my case is somewhat complicated by the fact that my two elder daughters are from a previous marriage, so politically holidays can be awkward. If I spend a lot on a big vacation for my younger daughters, still only eight and 13, I may hear complaints that they are having more fun or more money spent on them than when the older ones were their age. Which is untrue and unfair. However, one of my many weaknesses as a father is that I am highly susceptible to parental guilt, always a weak spot when you have remarried.
But whether you are in my particular situation, the problem of how long you keep taking your children on holiday is a live one. A survey by a cashback website this month found that six out of 10 parents spend an average of £1,150 when paying for their adult children to go on a family break. And 20% expected to continue to make payments for their children’s holidays up until they were 30.
I enjoy going on holiday with my adult children and I do not resent the cost. I want my elder daughters to have a family holiday with their half-sisters at least once a year, to try to maintain those bonds (they do not live in the same house) and I am aware that neither of my elder daughters earn any income – one has just left university and the other is still a student.
I never went on holiday with my parents after about the age of 16 – I preferred the company of my friends. But things have changed. Holidays have got better for one thing, so it’s a rather more attractive prospect for older children. Once I was independent enough to make a choice, a stay in a draughty holiday camp was easy to resist.
Perhaps there is also an element of not wanting to “let go” in insisting that the elder children are kept on board. The growing apart of one’s children is always painful, and holidays are a way to ameliorate the ongoing process of separation.
For all its pleasures, the cost is not always just financial. A holiday with four daughters means I am signally outnumbered. A new dynamic enters the family relationship, one that can be hard to predict or control. Alliances, albeit temporary ones, can be formed, which exclude those who are not part of them. Along with the love and closeness, there are power plays, subconscious dramas being played out, rivalries and resentments. As a father and a male, and therefore occupying a different psychological space on both fronts, I am not always party to what is taking place in front of my nose and left nonplussed and feeling ineffectual.
All this makes it sound like such a holiday would be hell, but in fact it can be the most perfect joy – when it is going well. To see all my children under one roof – enjoying each other’s company as well as (hopefully) mine – is a terrific pleasure. But I suppose one day it will come to an end. Following this holiday, on which we all are setting off today, I will doubtless have formed a view of whether that fact is a matter for regret or celebration.
I rather imagine, and passionately hope, that it turn out to be the former.
