This summer Facebook will be awash with Instagram-filtered pictures of beautiful and photogenic children enjoying picture-perfect days out. And the parents? Well, nothing but un-rivalled joy will be found upon their happy, sun-kissed, and gloriously care-free faces.
But do not be fooled, for this is not how the summer holidays really go down, at least, not in the real world. And looking through these online images, when your own children don’t fit into this model of idyllic childhood, can leave you feeling as though everyone around you has been invited to a party, but that somehow your invitation got lost in the post.
Looking through my own childhood photos it seems that this compulsion for capturing only chocolate-box memories is not new. In my childhood, before the existence of digital photography, each image taken was carefully thought through, minimising the need to print, and then discard, an actual photograph. Consequently, there is barely a frown, tantrum, or cloudy sky in sight.
It’s no wonder therefore that having my own children has come as something of a shock. Having my own children has dispelled the myth of care-free summers entirely, and I find myself wondering at my own parents’ ability to hide the strain of summer so well. Because six long weeks of mostly unstructured time, with two small girls, and only me on duty, will at some point descend into being the last thing I would choose to take a photograph of.
Just imagine with me for a moment what an album of memories would look like should I choose to capture all that I currently do not. There would undoubtedly be some lovely photographs of happy, relaxed and fun-filled moments. But lurking in amongst them all would also be pictures displaying un-rivalled tantrums, relentless sibling bickering, bewildering mood swings, and motherly despair. These moments are sure to be present in our home at some point during the holidays, but I wouldn’t dream of showing them to distant relatives, or heaven forbid, posting them on Facebook.
These more trying moments of parenting young children in the holidays are experienced by everyone—and yet expressing anxiety about the thought of spending an extended period of time with your children is seemingly taboo. It’s only been through speaking honestly with close friends that I’ve come to realise I’m not alone in my anxiety.
Unlike half-term breaks and the Christmas and Easter holidays, the summer break is more of a marathon than a sprint. And we all know how marathon runners finish a race; Jelly-legged and spent. More likely than not, rather than finishing the “holidays” feeling relaxed, refreshed and rejuvenated for the new term, you’re just as likely to finish them feeling like you need… well, a holiday.
The mercies of God are new every morning, and every morning I will need to come to God and ask him for his help.
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Melody