5 things I haven’t learned at all about holidaying with kids

Every year, bright-eyed and innocent, I look forward to going away on holidays – to reading and relaxing and resting, and to getting lots of sleep and sun. And every year, I am yet again taken by surprise to find that the holiday isn’t quite the chilled out, easygoing, restful experience I expected. Here’s what I have, in theory, learned this year – but will forget all over again by next year:

Holidays don’t in fact mean extra sleep

Sometimes letting the kids stay up till 11pm leads to everyone sleeping-in the next morning, but it’s a gamble. With my kids, this could just as easily result in one or two of them being up at 6.30am, jumping on my head, and demanding to go to the pool three hours before it opens. Then the same one or two kids are like weasels on crack for the rest of the day. But they learn nothing from the experience, and still want to stay up till 11pm the next night (so a bit like their parents really)

Trying to get down to the pool “early” is a fool’s errand

“Let’s just grab our stuff and get down to the pool early this morning will we?” is what we say to each other most days as we’re clearing away the breakfast dishes. Cue calling kids to put on swimsuits while we finish tidying up, as they completely ignore us in favour of counting their holiday money (again), dressing the toddler in a princess costume, or something equally important.

Eventually, we get the three of them into swimsuits, and then begins the long and arduous task of applying sun-cream.

I try using the spray on my five year old’s tiny little arms, but it goes mostly into the air on either side. I switch to thick, gloopy factor 50 cream for her face, promising her that it’s rubbed in while making a mental note to follow through with the rubbing in, as soon as I’ve reassembled some patience.

I chase the toddler around the mobile home, while my husband tries to remember if he put sun-cream on the six-year-old’s arms already or only her legs – best do the arms again just in case. And her face – just in case. Did I do the five-year-old’s face? I can’t remember and neither can she. Right, I’ll do it again, just in case.

Forty-five minutes later, the three kids are duly sun-creamed, and we think about putting some on ourselves, but we’ve run out of steam. Then I realise that I forgot (again) to put a swim nappy on the toddler, so take him back out of his swimsuit to do that. As soon as the girls have put shorts and t-shirts on over their swimsuits, one or both remember that they’ve forgotten to go to the toilet, which reminds me that I haven’t packed anything for the toddler to wear home from the pool.

Eventually, about ninety minutes after we start our quick dash to the pool, we are on our way. Unless someone is hungry. In which case, it’s just easier to have lunch first.

Sun-loungers are nothing but a cruel taunt

I know the time will come when we can sunbathe while the kids swim, but for now, the sun loungers at the poolside are just a place to leave our bags while we spend the entire time in the pool. And it’s lovely, honest. I mean, OK, it’s a bit cold. And I don’t really like getting splashed in the face. And I’m not mad on the fountain things that keep coming on spraying water everywhere when you least expect it. But sure if I was lying on a sun lounger, soaking up the sun, maybe even having a little snooze, I’d only be bored. At least, that’s what I assume. I have no way of knowing this as I’ve had no opportunity to try.

Holiday-reading is an optimistic and mostly unachievable goal   

 

Just like sunbathing, I know this is something that will change when the kids are older, but right now, there are no daytime hours whiled away immersed in Half of a Yellow Sun or Life After Life. The only reading I do is when the kids go to bed a night. Yep, reading my book in a mobile home is the extent my holiday night-life. Oh, but I do have a glass of wine with my book, so that ups the glamour stakes a bit. And I can hear the really loud music from the campsite bar, so I can almost imagine I’m there. Almost.

 

Kids don’t know the universal rules of holidays

Adults know that if the campsite doesn’t seem quite as good this year, the rule is to point out the great stuff and gloss over the minor details. Kids on the other hand just say things like “I don’t like it here. I want to go the place we went to last year” and burst into tears (perhaps just my kids)

Adults know that you don’t sweat the small stuff – holidays are about chilling out. Kids however continue to squabble every bit as much as they do at home, if not more. Elbow room in the car, sandy feet on a sibling’s bed, ownership of the water-pistol (whose idea was it to buy them a shared water pistol?) and who gets the strawberry ice-pop, are all sources of major arguments (and again, perhaps it’s just my kids)

And actually, I don’t mind that they’re not into suppressing irritations or faking cheerfulness – because when they sometimes say “I love it mum, this is the best holiday ever!” I know they really mean it.

And the wonderful or terrible truth of it is that if we go away again next year, I’ll have forgotten all of this. I will look forward to the holiday with the excitement of a small child. Or three small children as it were. How ironic really.

A version of this post has also been published on HuffPost UK