Goodbye, my long, sweet summer holiday

Looking back on two fantastic months of freedom, I feel the need to celebrate them with a last post. Not that there were many others. Of all the things I wanted to do this summer, building this blog was one of many that I didn’t achieve. Apparently, the complete lack of daily routine cut heavily in the habit of writing. And once you start to write less, it’s hard to restart and write more. The great ‘less is more’ thing doesn’t work for writing habits. I knew that, but I carefully neglected that piece of information and stuffed it away somewhere in the dark cavities of my brain (insert tension-building music)


The first three weeks of summer were hard. Like in really hard. Nobody prepared me to the ‘entertain me and don’t you dare do any household chores’ phase Little Boy set in the moment his daycare closed for annual vacation. Add to that the interrupted nights, very early mornings, bad weather and a cranky husband (probably combined with a cranky me too)… it wasn’t a good mix, I can tell you.





Luckily, there was a great week in France, to make things better. Surrounded by my family, Little Boy got plenty of attention, and I finally got some rest. Gorgeous weather and a cousin of the same age made for a happy Little Boy and happy parents.


Going back to daycare afterwards was a bit harder, but the structure and routine were very beneficial to everyone. Sleeping got better, the mornings were still very early though. I tried to get some things done, my husband had a hard time going back to work as he enjoyed the time away very fondly.


But another trip was on our agenda. We rented an apartment at the Belgian coast, for the traditional vacation with my family in law. It was the first time we didn’t actually share a space with them, but to me it was for the best. It meant a lot of quarreling between me and my husband though, which surprised me. In my eyes, had absolutely wanted his son to play at the shore and make long walks and stuff, but missed out the whole morning by sleeping in and letting me do everything. In his eyes, he was finally catching up on some sleep (this made me a bit angry, as he never ever gets out of bed in the middle of the night, nor in the morning – so if there’s a person with a lack of sleep in this house, it would be me) and having vacation. Oh well, things turned out fine in the end and luckily Little Boy had a great week nevertheless. Seems he just loves the sea, playing in the sand and running in the water. He changed his rhythm immediately: long naps at noon and early in bed (by seven). At the end of the week he even slept in! It made for a completely different kid.


Back home, I would start to prepare for school and Little Boy continued his routine at daycare. He’s an easy-going child, and for now he’s very open to people, even if he’s somewhat shy in the beginning. He likes to laugh and to play outside. He eats like a construction worker. His father and I are doing better too, with less nagging all the time. I hope it lasts, because we both were turning into persons we didn’t want to be. Sometimes I ask myself why we tend to get out the worst in each other instead of the best, while basically it’s all about the mind set. Stuff to think about.


There is a lot on my list of unaccomplished things (Project Life, weed through my home office, go completely digital, attack the attic monster, make regular visits to the zoo,…) but I enjoyed many other things: library trips, watching my son develop his love for vehicles, visiting friends and family, beach time, long walks and bicycle rides, reinventing breakfast, introducing smoothies, baking my first successful batch of muffins, staying awake for at least half a movie to enjoy with my husband, reintroduce complete nonsensical fun and laugh about it.


It was a good summer, in which I learned a not. Am I well-rested? Not really. Full of energy? Surprisingly: yes. Ready for a new school year? Bring it on. I’ll eat it raw!


How do you feel to restart after a long period of rest?

Author: Elvira

Woman, wife, mother. Trying to slow down and take the time to listen.

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