Why holidaying with children can make you need a holiday.

Writer, comedienne and generally funny lady Emma Kennedy wrote a piece for The Guardian this weekend about how happy she is not to have children, particularly when it comes to going on holiday. The article is hilarious, although after reading it part of me wanted to lie on the floor and weep.

You see, what Emma has said out loud is that taking children on holiday is hard work which sort of negates the whole point of having one.

‘Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the results are in. Taking children on holiday is like some sort of ghastly self-inflicted punishment. Why are you doing it to yourselves? You work hard all year round. Don’t you deserve a bit of peace and quiet? Don’t you deserve some fun? Children can’t even help with the driving. What is the point of them? Going on holiday without children is brilliant. There. I’ve said it’

She certainly has and… shit, she might be right.

As far as I can remember, pre children, booking a holiday basically consisted of deciding which country I fancied lying down in. After that I’d consider the best time of year to go. If going to Europe, June and September always seemed like the most beautiful months. If, on the other hand, I was desperate for a bit of winter sun, then the Caribbean in March was an option or South Africa in February. Whatever we decided upon though, we would always avoid the school holidays knowing it would be A/nine thousand pounds cheaper during term time and B/ that we wouldn’t be surrounded by screaming brats and their weary parents. Bliss.

This system inverts the minute you’re a parent and goes something like this…

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A floater

I took the kids for their first swimming lesson of the term yesterday. I have a ‘no swimming lessons during the winter’ policy because frankly life’s too short to be heaving tights up small damp legs when it’s cold. Still, spring has sprung so the time to make the mad dash from school to Richmond Baths once a week, weighed down by changes of clothes, towels and enough snacks to feed a pack of Scouts, like a stressed pack horse, has come again. Children have to be able to swim, a mantra which I repeat through gritted teeth while trying to find enough loose change to feed into the exorbitant meters every week.

Anyway, of my two children, so far  it’s seeming like Lily might be the one with the sport gene. She loves all sports, has never been scared of getting amongst the boys when playing football and thrives on a bit of competition. Her lesson was first and went without a hitch. After we left Freddie poolside while we went to get her showered and changed. When I say we left him poolside I do mean with a teacher obviously and with about eight floats on each arm, wearing goggles and generally looking like, give or take a bit of lard, he was ready for a channel crossing at the very least.

Read moreA floater