Hoooolidays… but for whom exactly?
It’s August. School’s out. Holiday season.
While others are still scrolling through vacation rentals, moms have been mentally juggling – since June – packing lists, vaccination records, the dentist appointment that still needs to happen, the question of whether last year’s swimsuit still fits, and that creeping suspicion that the youngest child’s passport might have expired.
Because when the family holiday is on the horizon, it usually means the opposite of relaxation for moms: a full-blown project somewhere between event logistics, plant rescue operations, and emotional triage.
But hey, we wanted to get away. And we can’t exactly leave the kids behind. (…Or can we?)
Phase 1: Who exactly invented the term “looking forward to it”?
Looking forward to vacation is a concept that only exists in households where someone else does the packing.
In most families, it starts with an escalating wave of to-dos, increasingly theatrical threats to one’s own offspring, mounting guilt (“I’ll make the wire transfers on the way, promise…”), and a desperate attempt to leave the house in a condition that won’t break your soul upon return.
You pack. For everyone. Including: backup snuggle toy, favorite pillow, “that one dress with the ladybugs”, six chargers, three books (LOL), a travel pharmacy (basically: a pharmacy), and favorite snacks.
At the same time, you double-check that the pet-sitter truly understands the cat can’t handle tuna-in-sauce (and neither can your carpet – remember 2022?), that Annika really will water the plants, and whether there’s any hope of fitting one more bag of trash into the already full bin.
Phase 2: The vacation – sun, sand, and full-service parenting
After a car ride filled with snacks, traffic jams, and endless negotiations over which audiobook plays NOW, you finally arrive.
Vacation at last. Relaxation? Almost.
Because what begins now is basically everyday life – just with better scenery.
Breakfast has to be organized (“Mom, the milk tastes weird”), sunscreen is applied while kids thrash like eels (“Not in the eyes, NOT IN THE EYES!”), and the beach bag weighs 17 kilos before you even make it to the water.
The kids? They carry the inflatable crocodile.
Reading by the pool? A myth.
You sit, open your book, and immediately: “Moooom, I need the bathroom!” Or: “Can you come here? My towel’s sandy.” Shocking, at the beach.
And then there are the older kids – the ones who only agreed to come if they could bring a friend.
The teenagers who argue in swim shorts about why they should have unlimited Wi-Fi because “everyone else does”.
And who, in every single holiday video, look like they’ve been sentenced to math camp in Siberia.
Meanwhile, Mom is in watchdog mode. Constantly.
Whether it’s “Don’t go out so far!” in the water, “Put your hat back on!” in the sun, or “I think the little one’s homesick because he misses the cat” in the evening.
Is this a holiday – or just a change of location?
Phase 3: Home again... sort of...
After eleven hours on the motorway, three traffic jams, five sibling mediations, crowded rest stops and the distinct aroma of warm fruit pouches in the back seat, you make it back.
And find the house almost exactly as you left it.
The laundry you “just quickly hung up” before leaving now feels like a damp handshake from reality – and smells the same. The bio-waste you meant to take out “first thing in the morning”? It has developed an ecosystem.
In the fridge: half a lemon, an almost-empty mustard tube, and a lonely mozzarella waiting to be paired with the sad leftovers from the car ride – which no one really wants anymore. The arts-and-crafts suitcase – “we absolutely need to bring it!!!” – is still unopened in the hallway.
And those brave souls who left their 19-year-old home alone, because he “really just needs to chill by himself for once”, open the bathroom door to find:
No clean towels. No toilet paper.
Five empty shower gel bottles. A used razor sunbathing on the windowsill.
The dishwasher? Full. The washing machine? Also full.
Bonus feature: a pile of damp sportswear beside it, now developing a personality. The kitchen cupboards? Sticky.
Your child swears: “I cleaned everything! Took me hours!”
The household cash stash? Gone.
The pizza guy? Now knows your surname.
And the Wi-Fi router? Dead. “It kind of just… stopped working.” Coincidentally, right after his 14-hour streaming marathon.
The calendar on the wall still shows July.
So do the to-dos.
And you find yourself dreaming of… another hoooooliday…
This article contains a condensed summary of holiday events. The author has survived all vacations – and occasionally even felt rested. 😁
3 mini hacks for surviving family holidays:
- Digitize your packing lists
Use a cloud note (Notion, Google Keep, whatever works) and reuse it every year. One for each kid, each category. Share it with the whole crew. Digital = survival. - Schedule a grocery delivery for your return day
Do the shopping online before you leave, and have it arrive the day you’re back. Milk, toilet paper, coffee, and sanity. All in one go. - Block a buffer day post-vacation
Don’t come home Sunday night and go to work Monday. Just don’t.
Come back Thursday. Keep Friday free.
The best mental airbag since lavender pillow spray.
