Every time I feel like I’m finally getting back to me - you know, my skincare routine’s consistent, the house is semi-tidy, I’m eating food that isn’t my childs left overs - half term hits. And suddenly, I’m back to square one.
I told someone recently that after spending a few hours with my kids, my brain physically hurts. Not emotionally. Not metaphorically. Physically. Like it’s been in the ring with three miniature wrestlers who don’t understand the concept of “quiet.”
It’s not that they’re naughty or wild. It’s just that they exist loudly. They require constant attention. And when there are three of them and only one of me, the maths simply doesn’t math.
I’ve started explaining to them that I have one set of ears, so I can’t hear three people at once. This has helped a little (mainly because it’s turned into a game where they test if it’s true). But still, being called “Mum” approximately 3.5 times per minute, multiplied by three children, means I’m averaging over 600 “Mums” before lunch.
By 11 a.m., I’m basically a shell of a woman, whispering “Mum” to myself like it’s a haunted mantra.
Growing up, most of us were raised with the motto was simple: children should be neither seen nor heard. We entertained ourselves or found quiet games to play, there was normally an older cousin or younger aunt to play with while the adults had “grown-up talk” in another room.
But the rules in my house? They’re different. When my son wants to show me something I genuinely don’t give two flying f**ks about - I will pretend it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.
Why? Because it’s about connection.
If my three-year-old wants to mix paint colours instead of actually painting, even though every cell in my body screams “NOOO, DONT MIX THEM!”, I’ll sit there and comment on every new questionable shade he creates.
When they destroy yet another batch of playdough by mushing all the colours together to create a pile of brown gloop, I don’t cry (out loud). I remind myself: it’s about the process, not the product.
Because one day, I won’t be the person they run to first to show their creations. One day, they’ll be mixing their own metaphoric playdough somewhere else and I’ll miss the chaos. So I join in. I sit. I watch. I listen. Because I want them to remember that Mum was there. Not perfect, not patient all the time, but present.
But where does that leave me?
Somewhere between “I love these tiny humans so much I could cry” and “if one more person shouts mum, I might have an actual melt own". And that’s okay. Because motherhood is a constant pendulum between joy and chaos, between gratitude and exhaustion.
So, whether you’re a stay-at-home mum, a work-from-home mum, or a mum heading into the office each day, here’s how to stay sane this half term:
1. Lower the Bar
The Pinterest-perfect crafts? Forget it. Themed snack platters? Nope. If your kids are fed, loved, and vaguely clean — that’s a win.
2. Schedule You Time (Even 15 Minutes)
Lock yourself in the bathroom if you have to. Have a hot drink. Scroll in peace. Remind yourself that your needs matter too.
3. Noise-Cancelling Headphones Save Lives
Even if you’re not listening to anything, the silence is heavenly. Protect your peace and your eardrums.
4. Screen Time Isn’t the Devil
Balance, yes. But if giving them 30 minutes of Toca Boca or Bluey means you get to breathe, do it without guilt. Rested mum = better mum.
5. Find Your Mum Crew
Whether it’s a WhatsApp group, your neighbour, or an online space - find your people. The ones who get it. Who won’t judge when you say, “I love my kids, but also… I need to not see them for 10 minutes.”
6. Let Go of the Guilt
You’re not failing them by needing space. You’re teaching them boundaries, self-care, and what a healthy human looks like.
So here’s to all the mums trying to keep it together this half term. The ones whispering “just one more day” under their breath while manouvering the clean patches of carpet in the living room.
You’re not doing it wrong. You’re just doing your best and that’s more than enough.
And if your brain feels a bit battered by the end of it all? Well, welcome to the club. We’ve got snacks ;)
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