This week, a repost of a blog I wrote last year in August. Which I think very much still applies. Hope you are having a lovely month,
Hels (Nelly) x
Ahh August. I find it to be a funny old month, often full of paradoxes. Like when you’ve finally relaxed into wearing a Birkenstock as standard, only to find yourself sliding about a park with shivering toes. When you say things out loud like, “maybe we should sell our house and go on a year-long road trip so we can all hang out together ALL the time,” only to find yourself three days later counting the days until you can spend less time with your immediate family. When you find yourself slouching around until midday watching the tv and eating unacceptable quantities of toast (still using the line that the kids "need a bit of downtime after school has finished” even though they finished over a week ago), only to find yourself screaming an hour later, “oh my God we need to get outside can everyone put some clothes on,” after an argument breaks out over who has more inches of the sofa arm.
And then, for me, the big one. Where you kind of like the laid back, no-one is around much, nothing much is happening-ness of the summer, but also can’t help but have one eye on September with its freshness and forward focus.
The idea of summer being over and the slippery slope to dark nights feels unsettling (and far too soon) and yet, I do feel a bit like the sweet peas in our garden some-days; sun bleached and faded, close to running to seed and almost over the summer show down.
"But we are only a few weeks into the summer holidays", I hear you shout, "don’t write off the rest of this glorious season, I’ve barely had a BBQ yet this year and have an amazing recipe that I wanted to try out so that our friends would believe I had some sort of handle on life" (pre-kids this might have been true, let’s be honest everyone now just wants you to whip out hot dogs and be distinctly average like the rest of us).
And I need you to shout this at me, because I fear my craving of September is not necessarily a good thing. It comes from a misplaced addiction to productivity and believing that rest is for the weak (I am in recovery, I think I always will be). It comes from finding some days uncomfortably long and struggling with that discomfort. There’s nothing wrong with being excited about the newness of Sept, I have some plans and some change happening and I like that. But wishing away any day, let alone a summers day, is surely not to be encouraged. It’s okay to find parts of the summer hard, balancing kids, work, life, is tricky. Just the kids bit is tricky. But I don’t want to wish it away. I love summer. And I know I don't have limitless summer holidays with our kids (I am feeling this intensely right now as our youngest is about to start school).
So, instead I am aiming to embrace the 'fuck it-ness' of August. To lean right into the discomfort and just make things as low pressure and simple as possible. I almost sorted out the kids wardrobes this week and then I thought, “nah, fuck it, it’s vaguely sunny outside, I’ll do it next month”. I have a few work decisions looming, I’m fucking off making them for a few more weeks until my head is a bit clearer (shhh, this is definitely not procrastinating). When else in the year can you let the kids watch hours of television and not feel remotely guilty. I don’t feel guilty. Coz it’s a really, flaming long holiday and my sanity is gonna need saving. Fuck it. This isn’t September with its fancy new rules and routines and lofty, “we are going to live better” affirmations. This is August, pass me that cereal box and we’ll just eat out of it, save washing the bowls.
Last week I booked a spur of the moment trip to a hostel near a beach with the older three kids. Gazzy was working so we shoved sleeping bags in the van and headed to Anglesey. We went body boarding, ate burgers at the backpackers bar and said nothing of the unidentified substance under one of the beds. In September I won’t be doing anything remotely spontaneous because, well, school and set hours and clubs and so much structure I can’t move. So I thought, fuck it, it’s summer, it’s a hostel, it’s cheap, what do you expect to find under the beds (actually, as a rule, I don't think you should ever expect to find random sperm under your bed. Never thought I'd write that in a blog post!) We all had a marvellous time. Even at six am eating brioche in our metal bunk beds. Well, almost then.
There’s nothing the 'fuck it-ness' can’t touch. I’d really like the kids to eat something other than ham butties and crisps but, hey ho, if you call it a picnic it sounds wholesome. My exercise regime has gone a bit to pot but no matter, I’m living in floaty dresses and who needs jeans in this beautiful sunshine (erm).
If you easily embrace this approach to life then I am deeply envious. I am naturally more of a habitual planner and an organiser. I know I can be a bit uptight. I am a recovering people pleaser / perfectionist. Which means that I need to try it even more, and when I do, it really does feel like a relief.
And when I can’t help myself but dream about September (ooh September), I’ve tried to write about it instead. I’ve jotted down some thoughts of things I’d like to re-focus on. Some things I’d like to explore. It helps me feel like I won’t forget what’s on my mind. It helps me see August for what it is - one month, totally achievable. I can get excited and inspired and that is lovely. And actually, I know from experience that it is in these periods of stepping back a bit and switching off and stopping pushing so hard, that the real gems can arrive.
Plus then I can get back to juggling that Zoom call with a 3yo tipping out his cup of milk so that he can lick it off the floor that hasn't been cleaned since, err, June (?) because he is playing some sort of dog game. I can just raise my eye brows and relax, knowing that this juggling isn’t forever, and that this is just part of August when normal rules do not apply, so…fuck it.
Hels x
Even though my son is now a grown up, I remember the long summer holidays in South Africa (6 - 7 weeks in December). As a single mom, I dreaded it with no family support around, Now, in hindsight, I wish I'd taken your approach and embraced it more because those days are no longer!
Love this! You’ve given me the permission I needed to embrace how I’m feeling about everything this month.