The school holidays have rolled in again, like they always do. Six long weeks stretching out ahead with September seeming like a distant spec on the horizon. I remember that feeling vividly. The mix of anticipation, panic, and the constant worry of “What on earth am I going to stop them from killing each other?” But I found this quote from Muhammad Ali and it made me stop and think.
“Don’t count the days. Make the days count.” - Muhammad Ali
Some people very sensibly just hightail it out on holiday the minute the school bell rings. I was incredibly lucky as a child; my brother, sister and I were able to spend glorious weeks with my Nana in Saltdene (near Brighton) rock-pooling and swimming in the now newly restored Saltdene Lido. Halcyon days I remember with great fondness.
As an adult with my own children there was always a part of me that looked forward to it with the slower mornings, picnics in the park, beach days, splashing in paddling pools, or bundling into the car with sandwiches and spare pants “just in case.” I remember a particular summer when we “wallpapered” the garden. Hand and foot prints on lining wall paper made into a big story that we hung between the trees in the garden.
But alongside the joy and the sun cream and the ice lollies melting down tiny hands, there was the pressure, particularly when I was a single parent. Pressure to make the time magical, educational, meaningful… or at the very least, bearable. And I will admit to looking forward to “Mummy’s Sundowner” (otherwise known as a rather large G&T), as my reward for making it through the day relatively unscathed!
Now, those days are behind me. Both my children are in their 20’s and have already flown the nest. Our house is quieter. No more Lego on the stairs to catch you unawares, no more carpet picnics watching DVDs, no more muddy shoes mysteriously abandoned at the front door but that had managed to slide their way down the walls first.
And I’ll be honest - I miss it, I miss them!
The Dread and the Delight
When they were small, those six weeks could feel endless. I know I wasn’t alone in feeling that bubbling undercurrent of dread as the end of term approached. You could love your children fiercely and still feel completely overwhelmed by the idea of entertaining them, feeding them, refereeing their arguments, and somehow keeping your own sanity intact for a month and a half.
But the thing I only truly realised later - when the house grew still - is just how short that season really is. Eighteen summers. That’s all we get, if we’re lucky, before they go off to uni and begin their own lives. Eighteen years of summers to fill with scraped knees, half-finished craft projects, camping disasters, late-night films, ice cream bribes, bored sighs, and occasional magical moments that arrive when you least expect them.
After that, it’s them who are too busy for us. And that’s exactly how it should be. Although they could both do with ringing their mum a bit more often. However, I’m sure my Mum still says that about me!
But I think back now, and I wish I’d worried a little less about making those summers perfect. Because the real magic wasn’t in big plans or expensive days out. It was in the small stuff. The moments of connection. Sitting on a blanket under a tree reading books together. Watching a thunderstorm from the safety of the windowsill. Letting them “help” with the baking. Listening, really listening, when they told me something seemingly silly but utterly important in their world.
Making It Count
If you’re in the midst of this summer juggle, feeling stretched between work and childcare and the idea that you should be doing more, let this be a gentle reminder: you don’t have to do everything. You just have to be there. Present. Available. Willing to drop what you’re doing sometimes to listen or play or join in their world, even just for ten minutes.
Making the days count doesn’t mean packing every day with outings and activities. It means looking for meaning in the moments you have. It might be a shared giggle over a silly joke. A quiet sit side-by-side while they draw and you sew. Teaching them how to thread a needle or boil an egg. Letting them be bored enough to discover something new. Boredom is, after all, a great teacher.
And while you’re holding space for them - don’t forget to hold space for yourself too.
Don’t Lose Yourself
I know how easy it is to vanish into the role of “Mum” or “Dad” or “Carer” during the holidays. We push aside our own wants and needs to manage theirs. And of course we do - that’s what love looks like, sometimes.
But making the days count isn’t just about them. It’s about you too. The version of you that still wants to be creative. To learn something new. To make something beautiful with your hands. To sit quietly with a cup of tea and not be interrupted. That version deserves time too.
Whether it’s carving out an hour to sew, join a workshop, sit in the garden with a book, or simply go for a walk without anyone asking you where their shoes are - you’re allowed to be a priority too. In fact, I’d argue it makes you a better parent, partner, friend, and human when you do. I remember coming back after weekends away with my “Sex and the City” friends who didn’t have kids, feeling a renewed sense of self and what I could be capable of. Which I know made me a much better, and more patient mummy.
So ask yourself this: how do you want to feel at the end of this summer?
Exhausted, frazzled, and counting down the hours till school starts again? Or content, knowing you made space for the people you love - including yourself?
A Season of Presence
For those of us whose children are grown or mostly grown, summer brings a different kind of rhythm. It’s tinged with nostalgia. Maybe even regret. But also freedom. If you no longer have to fill six weeks of childcare, you get to choose how you spend this season.
The longer, lighter evenings extend the day to make it easier to include more of the good stuff. Visit friends. Call the ones you miss. Book the workshop. Make the thing. Sit and be still. Let the laundry pile up and take yourself out for a treat. Invite people round for no reason other than to be together. Make space for joy, and don’t wait for a “good reason.”
If the past few years have taught us anything, it’s that time is precious. It’s never guaranteed. So don’t count the days. Make the days count - in whatever way feels most nourishing to you right now.
However You Spend It, Be There For It
I’m not saying every day will be picture-perfect. It won’t. Some days will be sticky and shouty and messy and long. But even those days can count. Especially if we meet them with presence. With softness. With curiosity instead of control.
So whether your summer is full of noise and Nerf guns or silence and sewing, may you find little glimmers of joy in the midst of it. A cool breeze through an open window. A shared laugh. A bowl of strawberries eaten barefoot on the grass.
You don’t need a bucket list. You just need a willingness to notice.
Because this summer, just like every one before it will pass. Let’s make it one to remember, not because we did it all, but because we were there for it.
Jules x