No school runs! No work! You can turn off your alarm clock! It’s the holllllliiidaaaaays!
‘Why don’t the buggering children SLEEP IN?!’
How do they not realise it’s the holidays and they don’t need to be up at five fucking AM? They went to bed at ten last night so WHY are they up at this hour? Don’t they realise mum and dad went to bed at 11.30 after too many gins, giddy on the thought of there being no work in the morning?
‘How am I going to survive two weeks of this?’
It’s 10AM on the first Monday and the darling kids are already eating each other. Peppa Pig is on her fifth hour and even she is flagging. You could drag them all out to the coast but the youngest gets car sick. Ugh.
‘How have I spent this.much.money?’
You’ve cried twice trying to get the kids the out of the house, but you’ve hit up the joint account and bought a handful of tickets to the Dino Park. You may well have spent over £3000 and that’s not factoring in the ice creams you’ve bought to avoid shit fits. You’ve also bribe-promised a cinema trip and a zoo day. Pay day feels a long long way away…When was the last time you did any work, anyway?
‘Do I really need to go back to work?’
The kids are finally asleep and you’re mooning at photos on your phone of them hugging each other on the beach or sharing their ice creams and there’s even a photo of you and the children smiling at each other. Do you really have to work? Maybe you could home school them instead? You could live like this all the time: life would be one long holiday of pub lunches and laughter.
And then your bank statement arrives.
Back to work it is.
Until the summer holiday.
Oh god-how are you going to survive six weeks of this?!