Lindsay Woods: 'I have found this summer particularly challenging'

In less than a week, my children, like yours, will return to school. I’m going to get the obvious out of the way and say that I have found this summer particularly challenging, writes Lindsay Woods.

There are so many elements of the summer holidays which I adore; the lack of a routine, no alarms to set, the fact that you can chuck an entire watermelon to your children outside and call it ‘lunch’. I have been lucky enough to be at home with my children to fling said fruity meals at them. But, therein lies the rub; in being lucky, I have also been unlucky in that I have had to spend every, waking moment with them. For an entire eight weeks.

I work from home, and whilst the school hours allow me that window to do so before I have to launch into parent mode, the summer months do not afford me that luxury. Yet, acknowledging that I find this challenging is often greeted with indifference or sometimes disdain, particularly on social media. In an age, where as parents we can actively discuss everything from breastfeeding to our child’s education, there is, I feel, still somewhat of a taboo surrounding those of us who made the decision, or had the decision made for them due to extenuating circumstances, to become stay-at-home-parents.

The assumption that we should be enjoying all of this precious time because we are so lucky to be at home with our children is a fallacy. This was highlighted even further, when a number of weeks ago, I wrote a piece in response to a quote doing the rounds on Instagram, ‘We get 18 delicious summers with our children…’ I stand by what I said, that I believed it to be an aggressive and damaging statement which had lost the true sentiment it had intended, in that, yes, time with our children is indeed short. There were varying reactions to it: the general consensus was in agreement, that the language used was unnecessarily pressurizing. There were some who disagreed but put forward their opinion in the form of a reasonable debate. The piece began to gather momentum and was reposted by key Instagram players. That’s when things began to take a turn.

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People, who before had never commented on any of my work, for better or for worse, suddenly felt compelled to do so. Timely, considering the traction the piece had suddenly garnered. I defended it by highlighting the pressures that groups of parents may feel upon reading the quote; single parents struggling to stay afloat, parents facing and living financial hardships… Yet, I never defended it from my own perspective for fear of being perceived as moaning or the Instagram death knell – ungrateful.

I have never known true hardship, I have never suffered with debilitating health: mentally or physically. As a result, I anticipated a chorus of, ‘How very dare she?’ if I spoke on the fact that eight weeks at home, 24/7 with my children was pushing me to my limits. I still anticipate that chorus, if I’m truly honest. We live in an age, where we applaud the two ends of the parenting spectrum; the Do-It-All Parent and the parents who have been brave and honest enough to share their lowest lows. But what of the group in between? Those of us who are hesitant to speak upon the fact that those eight weeks of summer can feel difficult and never-ending. Because, shouldn’t we feel privileged and so very lucky to be able to spend them at home with our children?

As a person, I am not perpetual sunshine and rainbows. I am light and shade. But I am also very much the same version online as I am offline. I am cross and irritable with a rip-roaring temper. Yet I know of extreme joy and laugh – a lot. Still, I held back from divulging that the endless days with my children was testing me beyond measure. Or that I had a countdown on my phone ticking down the minutes and the seconds until they would don their uniforms and head out the front door. Why? Because I might be perceived as ungrateful?

There are many who on reading this will decide that I am indeed just that. But, there might be a few who acknowledge that they too have supressed those niggles for fear of reprisal. As for next week, we are all excited. Not so much for regaining the routine as finding our rhythm. That flow of predictability and much-needed space from one another. So that in the evenings, when the homework is done and we sit to eat we can appreciate each other a bit more. September is our January. A clean slate. A new start. With the added bonus of a snazzy pencil case.

@thegirlinthepaper