School hols are slowly killing me, there’s 7 reasons they must come to an end quick

WE’RE only halfway through the school holidays, but mum Becca Maberley, 48, an author and parenting expert from South West London, is already tearing her hair out STARING at the calendar on the kitchen wall, I feel like crying. Mum Becca Maberley and her teenage boys Credit: David Cummings Becca and Tom when the kids were small Credit: Jam Press/@amotherplace No, I haven’t just forgotten a cherished loved one’s birthday or missed a key social event — the reason is far more selfish and I know other parents will judge me harshly. The cause of my despair is that there are still three long, painful weeks of the school holidays left . . . and I’m at breaking point. Sign up for the Fabulous newsletter Thank you! I’ve always loved my sons — 15 and 13 — fiercely. But I freely admit that, at times, I find being a mum difficult. Many of the daily demands, particularly during the school holidays, have me tearing my hair out and it annoys me how women are put under intense pressure to pretend it’s all wonderful and that they love every moment. I don’t. I get trolled for being honest about my feelings on my social media (@amotherplace). People say I should be sterilised, or don’t deserve to be a mother, which is ridiculous. I wish other mothers were as honest as me — I know many feel the same, but don’t let on because it’s a taboo subject. And I roll my eyes when I see posts from mums “devastated” about the holidays ending. I’m doing a dance around my kitchen. For me, the endless summer break is tricky. Holidays are for relaxing, yet it’s nigh on impossible when you’ve got children running around, constantly shouting, “Look, Mummy”, as they hurl themselves down a water slide or boot footballs across the garden. I long for a glass of wine, and peace just to read a book. Most read in Fabulous There’s a social media trend called “18 precious summers”. It is putting pressure on mums to make them count as you have so few. This idea that you have to make them perfect, otherwise you’ve somehow failed, irritates me beyond belief. I look at those posts and feel it’s just more social media nonsense and performative parenting. I always imagined that once they were out of the “danger” years of toddling off and getting lost, needing constant entertainment, or becoming tired and grumpy, holidays would once more become peaceful. But now they’re teenagers, there’s a new array of horrors. For example, the boys both get weekly pocket money and have cash that people have kindly given them as presents. My view is that they should learn to budget with what they’ve got. But now that they’re older and want to travel to see friends, they often ask for cash to top up their travel cards, or to buy pointless — and pricey — meal deals. I remain firm. I’m more than happy to make them a sandwich before they go out, but if they want to buy it, they must do that out of their own money. Yet it doesn’t stop their demands, and it gets boring constantly having to reiterate that my wallet will remain well and truly shut. Then there is the constant last-minute planning. As children get older, you’re spared the horrors of hosting playdates. The fact that they now make their own arrangements with mates is great. But like so many teenagers, mine fail to tell me what they’re doing and when, making last-minute plans without considering what I’m doing. So I’m suddenly told they NEED a lift in half an hour to a distant water park they definitely can’t get to by public transport. I then have an internal debate about whether I’m happy to disrupt my day by driving them. If I do, at least they won’t be under my feet all day, a result of sorts. A shot from an old family album Credit: Jam Press/@amotherplace Becca said: ‘I crave having the house back to myself and Tom’ Credit: David Cummings The worst is when they tell you that you’ll have to pick them up at 11pm, which scuppers plans to relax with a few glasses of wine. Once you throw girlfriends into the mix, that’s another thing. We have strict rules about keeping bedroom doors open. And don’t get me started on the nightmare of trying to plan meals. I might have made a huge saucepan of bolognaise, only to then find that it’s just my husband Tom, 47, and me in for dinner — and we’d have happily had a salad. Another thing I miss about term time is the reassuring rhythm to the house. There’s a set wake-up time of 7am, after which the boys have quick showers and are soon out of the house to spend the day at school. When they get back, there’s a bit of time to relax before homework starts and then dinner and bed. It’s all timed to the minute and we know exactly what we’re doing. But that goes out of the window during the holidays. And their showers, which usually last three minutes so they don’t miss the bus, can run into half an hour and somehow involve leaving multiple soggy towels on the floor. And then there’s the huge mountain of extra laundry. In term time it’s simple, they wear school uniform, but during the holidays, they change a couple of times a day and just throw their dirty clothes on the floor. Of course, I make them clear up afterwards, but that takes up yet more energy. Without a set time to get up, they’ll wander down at any time and expect to get fed. The other day they kicked off when I said breakfast was over — because they came down just past noon. Again, I can never decide whether to make them sort breakfast themselves and put up with the mess and chaos, or whether it is less painful to do it myself. So usually I end up doing it. Having the kids at home 24/7 also means Tom, who runs a creative content studio, and I don’t get our usual “chat time” after the boys have gone to bed. During term time, we’re left in peace from about 10pm, but during school holidays, with no necessity to get up at the crack of dawn, it’s hard to reason with them to go to bed. Becca, who hates school holidays, said: ‘Another thing I miss about term time is the reassuring rhythm to the house’ Credit: David Cummings Becca says: ‘Every year, without fail, I vow not to make the same summer holiday mistakes’ Credit: David Cummings So we don’t have the same time to unwind as we usually do. I miss that. Tom and I both work from home and I’m often on my laptop in the kitchen. But that becomes a no-go zone during the school holidays, as the boys constantly barge in during Zoom calls to help themselves to snacks, ask for a lift, or for a shirt to be urgently washed. I crave having the house back to myself and Tom. There are arguments over how their downtime is spent, too. Six weeks is a long time to not pick up a book or exercise your brain, and I start every holiday with the intention of making them at least read a newspaper or a coursework book. Whenever I mention that it might be a good time to start, they suddenly find they’ve something very important to do and disappear. It affects my social life, too. While I still go out, I can’t let my hair down in the same way as I can during term time. Knowing they’re out and about in town and might need a lift home, I feel on edge all the time. We tussle with the boys over screen time, too. But again, without the threat of, “You need to go to bed to be OK for school”, it’s hard to stop them. I envy my American friends, who pack their kids off to summer camp for weeks at a time. It’s a shame we don’t have the same culture here — I’d be signing my boys up, pronto. Every year, without fail, I vow not to make the same summer holiday mistakes. I look back on the previous one, examine what was difficult, then try to avoid the same pitfalls. But I fail to take into account that we’ve moved on by a year, and their wants and needs have shifted once again. So I’m still left tearing my hair out . . . You can follow Becca’s parenting advice at amotherplace.com and on Instagram @amotherplace. Comment now