July is my other December

Or, the internal war to get ALL THE THINGS DONE

If you are a working parent of school age kids, you are very likely in a similarly head spinning, sports day juggling, holiday club organising, quiet house savouring mode to me right now. If you’re also freelance, like me, you’ll be watching your bank balance tick downwards, knowing it’s going to be a long time till it goes up again.

July, is worse than December. Let’s just put that right out there. Like every year, I am furiously trying to get as much work done as possible before I am doing two full time jobs simultaneously - being a parent and earning a living.

Summer is lovely. And it’s also a bit awful.

Photo by Hannah Pemberton on Unsplash

Why do I find it just so difficult when it’s many people’s happiest time of year? Take one very high needs teenager, not enough care (and very few suitable activities to take him to), another kid who’d also I’d love to spend some time with and being the only earner in this household and you get the picture. It’s a lot, even when it’s a good day.

So every year in July various sides of myself are at war with each other - the writer, the money earner, the carer, the mother, the woman. They’re all scrapping for time slots.

Who’s winning? Actually the writer and money earner currently, but I have a book publishing in August so the author will have to start stealing back more time soon (and yes, the author is different to the writer, that is a whole other topic for another day). The author will definitely be getting into metaphorical fist fights with the carer and mother by August because that is not a great time for them (and they are always spoiling for a fight).

This is also the time of year when the unique challenges of having a disabled child come into full swing. Do I go to the dentist now or wait till September? He can’t come with me, so I have to choose. What about a hair cut? The optician? My daughter needs to go to all of those as well. Do I give up working hours to do those things? Are my teeth more important than my eyes? Does it make me vain if I choose a haircut instead? (We all know I’m going to choose the haircut).

My days start to take on a strange shape. Exercise goes out the window (who needs to be healthy?) there’s no time for anything more than a short walk and a bit of stretching. Instead, I’m up early writing, because my working days are filled with furiously editing clients work. The house is getting dirtier as I ignore more of the household jobs. I rotate the same meals around again and again because I’ve got no decision making space left in my brain. I already feel like I’m on a summer timetable, where I’m half ass-ing a whole bunch of things and the school holidays haven’t even started yet.

Then there is the rebellious part of me, that is desperate to cherish the empty house while I can. I should go for a walk! I should write at the British Library! I should have coffee with a friend! I need to enjoy every moment of peace! I need to SAVOUR every moment god dammit!!!!!

It will come as a shock to absolutely no one that I (like so many others) have a deep hatred of the sentiment that we only have 18 summers with our children. It’s conservative clap trap if you ask me, as if the world (and bills) stop for a season while we hang out and go swimming with our kids all day (although I suppose if you’re very wealthy, it can all stop). Not to mention that it’s just simply not true, most especially for those of us raising disabled kids who will not be skipping merrily off into their independent lives at 18. Instead, what summer often is for many of us, is a time where we just need to do double the work (and feel really shit about it).

I know, I know, I sound so grumpy. I do enjoy lots of things over the summer. I really do. But I am also often hanging on by a thread and I feel its only fair to give the balanced view.

So solidarity with all those who are biting their nails in anticipation of the wild ride that is the summer holidays, wishing they were looking forward to it more and trying not to let on to everyone around them, just how much they really aren’t.

If you need me, I’ll be here, furiously working away on my laptop. And if I’m not here, I’ll be sitting in complete silence trying to memorise what that feels like before I say goodbye to it for six whole weeks.