Why is it that society gets all gooey-eyed over summer?
Of course, the lighter nights are a joy, as is the thought of warmer temperatures. But if you live in the UK, and particularly in Scotland, reality bites, quite literally.
If you have children, summer takes on a whole new meaning.
Depending on their age, school is out, and quite rightly so. But, unless you are a stay-at-home parent, getting childcare sorted is first on your “summery” agenda.
I’m not going to wade into the ignorant and misogynistic argument that you shouldn’t have children if you can’t provide childcare. No one questions why the male CEO isn’t building a treehouse with his little darlings instead of attending the monthly budget meeting.
Summer is still mainly the mother’s problem, the mother’s guilt.
The housework still needs done, of course, but don’t let that stop the never-ending magic.
And, if you have the audacity to work, when are you going to start #makingmemories instead?
Yet another guilt trip
I have worked throughout summer. I also have a four-year-old.
I am lucky in that he attends a mixture of nursery and a childminder, a lifeline which continued on and off throughout the holidays.
But the guilt, the crippling guilt, as I have dropped him off, knowing full well there is only a handful of other children there, has felt suffocating.
“We get 18 delicious summers with our children.”
You’ll have seen this quote doing the rounds on social media, probably as you hide in the bathroom from tantrums about paddling pools and Smart Price Cornettos.
Time is running out. If you can’t cherish summer, what kind of parent are you? As if the half-term holidays or those random in-service days aren’t quite as worthy of the accolade.
I don’t need the reminder that summer is a ticking time bomb. And, yet, for a little while, I let that statement dictate my parenting.
Enough is enough
Off we went strawberry picking, despite the fact my child’s attitude was akin to the mouldy fruit scattered across the path.
Summer, you were a challenge; a never-ending picnic of sandy sandwiches and forgotten sun hats
There was the circus which, to be fair, he enjoyed, and beach days in quick succession, because, surely, time was running out?
Not one single planned day was “delicious”.
It was the all-year-round swimming lessons, afternoons in the garden, movie nights and standard dog walks which gave us the best moments.
Summer, you were a challenge; a never-ending picnic of sandy sandwiches and forgotten sun hats.
But, if I’ve done my job right, my little boy will still be there post-18: ready to return with tales of his own life, his own adventures – because our bond doesn’t have an expiry date.
Ellie House is a features writer for The Press & Journal and editor of Society magazine
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