So today marked a first in the world that is me and my little one. The boy, (the boss if you ask him) currently aged 5 and I (aged a bit older) have come away on holiday. Nothing unusual in that, but no, on our own! The thing that many single parents do all the time and my God, hats off to you but we have simply never done it before. It’s the Easter holidays and in trying to figure out something to do to keep the little guy entertained we decided on a few days away in a nice old traditional English seaside resort. Daddy is busy with work so I have bitten the bullet and I have to say although already (at currently seven hours in to the entire thing) I have yet to speak to an adult human apart from asking for a drink, its all going swimmingly!
I’ve learnt over the last five years that my son is quite a simple creature when it comes to holiday preferences. We’ve done the old all inclusive week in Spain, which involved trying to entertain him with puppets of all sorts, the “chocolatte” dance (parents of young children will know exactly what I mean by this) and the dreaded kids club. (is it only my child who refuses to have anything to do with these?!) We even did Disneyland Paris which he did love, (what’s not to love, lets face it, the thought of the first walk down Main Street has me blubbing just thinking about it) but nothing gets my little man more excited than a few days in a proper crap (and I swear I’m using that word in the most positive, nicest way possible) English seaside resort. Crap is good. Crap is candy floss, beaches in the rain, really bad puppet shows, mini golf and sand in your toes.
I’m not one for all these hashtags on Instagram and Facebook and trying to play the part of the perfect Mother – I’m anything but, so the notion of “making memories” and “feeling blessed” leaves me a little cold in the hashtag sense but isn’t it basically all about that? This week is only just beginning but already we’ve been bowling, eaten crisps and giggled at the music, done silly dances, seen a show and snuggled up in bed watching cartoons.
When I was a kid I absolutely loved the holidays that meant I could be a kid. The ones where you’d meet “holiday friends” which, in the 80’s meant you had a penpal for at least the next five years. The ones where there was a “club” where the parents could have a couple of drinks and you’d be outside tearing around in the play area until your Mum caught you trying to run down, instead of slide down the slide. (True story, I got into loads of trouble for that – could have broken my neck dontchaknow??) The ones where it seemed to be sunny ALL the time (apart from Abersoch, circa ’86. That was grim.)
And now I’m a Mum myself I want to give my son all of that too. Must admit, I don’t think penpals are a thing anymore but making friends and chatting about what football team they support and what their favourite game on their Mums phone is seems to be. I just hope that in years to come when he looks back at being the grand old age of 5-and-a-bit he can recall a few happy memories and “feeling blessed” with his Mummy. Oh and tomorrow I aim to speak to an adult human being. Wish me luck.