On the first day of the school holidays, my 11-year-old started playing music from the living room at 6am. This is a child who can’t be roused out of bed on a school day before 7.58am, and there she was, dancing to music by a scantily clad pop group I’d never heard of when I’d desperately needed to sleep. I suddenly had a sense of what my father may have felt when I danced through the family home in 1996, crooning to the Spice Girls’ 2 Become 1.
By 9am I was already having a meltdown. I had thrown out toys, sent my husband a ranty voice note insisting “it’s either them or me” (knowing full well he’d likely opt for neither), threatened to cancel my youngest child’s birthday and hid two out of three devices (and only because I couldn’t find the third). I knew I would come to regret it.
As a working mother, I’d always known that our school holidays wouldn’t ever be perfect. But I hadn’t expected them to go downhill so fast. I’d been ambitious about them despite being up to my eyeballs in work that I had to do from home, around my children, without the saving grace of an office door. Still, I’d planned a roundup of activities I thought they’d enjoy: playdates, a beach trip, walks to the local park with a new basketball and tickets to the Gabby’s Dollhouse movie (because I’m very productive on email at the cinema).
And yet here I was being called the “Worst Mum in the World” on the very first day, even though I was nothing like the parents in David Walliams’ The World’s Worst Parents, a book I’d deliberately bought my son to evidence the triviality of my own shortcomings.
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Had I set myself up to fail?
Quite possibly, according to parenting expert Genevieve Muir, who says modern parents are under more pressure, more financial strain and more contactable than ever before, while their kids are used to being more entertained. But, she says, we need to remember that “kids don’t need perfection”.
“It’s not our job to make holidays magical and sometimes the holidays [are] about letting kids just work it out,” she says. “If parents are worried they’re not connecting enough, just a few minutes a day makes a difference. Whether it’s 10 minutes playing a board game, or shooting hoops, or a one-minute impromptu dance party that makes everyone laugh, that’s enough to see the benefits.”
As I microwaved my homemade mocha that morning (because who gets to drink theirs warm the first time), I realised that my morning scroll through a dozen-odd videos of mindful mothers in coordinating outfits with their children hadn’t helped me. I saw my failures: not enough gentle parenting / too many preservatives / too little hikes / more bread baking!
I’d felt attacked by my own expectations, which were so removed from my reality. I had internalised what the internet told me was acceptable without recognising where I was and what I was capable of at this period in time (and it had nothing to do with baking bread or hiking with a neurodiverse kid who’d hate it). I had to readjust my expectations, and theirs, regardless of how good past holidays might have been – how many trips we’d taken, how many times we cooked (or baked) together, how present I had been able to be.
“School holidays don’t work without compromise,” Muir says. “Sometimes it’s more takeaway, more devices, more leaning on the village. And also letting kids get a bit bored so they find some real-world fun. ‘Good enough’ parenting is always enough.”
A funny thing came out of my finally letting go.
I discovered that the son who’s always so fixated on his Nintendo is also quite partial to a game of Guess Who and doesn’t mind a sudoku. The children found out that a time-out space in the laundry could remind them of how “boring” things really can get when they’re forced to stare at the pile of handwash items I have been neglecting. And, I finally used my Dinner Ladies gift card (on lasagne, chicken pie and Vietnamese chicken, in case you’re wondering) so I could spend the time I’d usually spend cooking hanging out with my kids after a long day of working.
Maybe learning a pop group’s dance routine, maybe playing Guess Who.
I don’t know, because I’m learning to take it day by day. Best-laid plans and all that.
• Sarah Ayoub is a journalist, academic and author of books for young adults and children
