As a term time working mum, I often feel a sense of tension and impending *something* as school holidays approach. I'm often going into the holidays exhausted from the term that has just unfolded, whilst my children look up at me, full of anticipation and hope as to what exciting things I have planned for our time 'off' together.

Yet, the February half term is always different. I joke, but it is historically the 'holiday' where a child is ill. Sickness bug, heavy cold and last year, chicken pox. So I won't lie, this year I was slightly nervous as to what germ would show up. Thankfully, it (mostly) didn't.

There is still a strong seasonal pull in February half term. It pulls us and calls us to stop. And when stopping is not always an option with small children, then at least slow. Slow the hell down. And so, for the week, we hunkered down. We are still in winter and so still Wintering. We are just beginning to turn our bodies and our minds to spring. So hunkering is still called for.

I purposefully made very minimal plans for this half term week. There was a family on family playdate which was planned and went ahead in the knowledge that selfishly I, as mum, would benefit from seeing my friend with a luke warm coffee on the sofa whilst our kids insisted on playing right next to us in the same room. I needed that connection and thankfully our kids were more than willing to embrace the plan as this involved rushed bought sugar.

Yet, we hunkered. For 3/5 days, my kids had a day bath which is sold to them as a 'fun bath'. This is essentially an opportunity for me to sit on the floor, against a radiator, with a hot cuppa and scroll my phone, without being touched by another person, for half an hour - honestly, one day they were in for 50 minutes. Golden. Actual jackpot.

We've had low lighting, fairy lights and candles. We've made pancakes and biscuits, been drawing and writing, walked up the hill, watched the Winter Olympics, used imaginations and played. I must also shout out to my parents, who hosted their very first sleep over - to which my body responded by naturally crashing and being ill. Lovely.

Yes. I'm well aware this sounds idyllic and how lucky I am to get this time with my children. Which I am. Yet. I also spent many times overstimulated and shouty. My children do not know personal space and so at any given point in the week, one of them was touching me.

In turn, we fell out. A fair few times. Only last night, my eldest wrote a list of things he'd done this half term and no joke, he'd written "fall out with mum". This may well have had a tick next to it to add insult to injury. “Fall out with mum, job done.” ✔️

We've all been on screens. We've all eaten too much sugar. We won't talk about the snack demand. My pro-rata bank balance has suffered (blaming hyperfixation and dopamine here).

And. I've noticed the closeness. The closeness that, at times, I wish was a *little* less close. We've been tired and emotional. We've needed each other. We've leaned into comfort and we've reconnected.

It's now the end of half term. Am I looking forward to going back to work? A little, yes. I want to be Work Me and to be honest, I'd quite like to be shown a little bit of respect. But also, no I'm not. I'm exhausted, maybe even more so, if that's possible. But I've learnt that this is not an 'I'm tired' exhaustion, this is a Lou Beckett Default Parenting exhaustion. And so we move. Into the next half term of school. A short half term. Bring on the Easter Holidays.

If, by some fluke, this is read by other people then wow, thanks for reading. If this is read by someone who works all year round and has to juggle holiday clubs. I see you, I do. Our experiences are all our own and only our own, they are all relative. What I'd give, some days, to be on a real (not pro-rata) salary and spend a day with adults or better still, by myself. Grass is always green, eh? - I still don't think I'd swap.

For now, it's time to emerge like the spring bulbs. Pushing through the ground with their green spears. Ready to show us that light and colour always follow darkness.