What was meant to be the best holiday ever

It was probably going to be our last family holiday all together, as our eldest had just left school, so I had planned a fantastic trip to Ireland. The highlight of the week was a boat trip to the Cliffs of Moher, famous for sea views, sunsets and everything from caves to castles. It had been on my bucket list forever, and I was so excited. I had (as usual) planned meticulously, and the boat trip was supposed to be amazing.

Everything started well. We were at the front of the boarding queue and, once on the boat, found good seats on the top deck, but then everything went wrong. A storm blew up and the North Sea went crazy. The swell was so huge we were told to go inside for safety. The boat was leaving the tops of waves and then dropping down with a shuddering thud. Around us everyone was seasick, and I had turned green. 

We can plan, but we can never guarantee the outcome

Three of our four children were terrified and, though I was trying not to show it, so was I. The fourth was enjoying the ride as if it was a rollercoaster, laughing and waving her hands in the air as each wave hit, and my husband didn’t mind the motion at all. Eventually we arrived at the cliffs, and the captain said that the sea had subsided a bit so asked whether we wanted to go outside and see the view. I did not. I had planned and anticipated this holiday for months, but in the end I just clung to my scared children and longed for it to be over.

A few days later we were in a shop when the sales assistant, seeing that we were tourists, asked: “Have you been to see the Cliffs of Moher?” She didn’t understand why the whole family burst out laughing. That was when I learned a new word: ‘hilarible’. It means something is both hilarious and horrible.

Nowadays, if I even talk about going on the water, one of the kids will say: “Watch out, the Cliffs of Moher are coming!” For them, it sums up their family: Mum going planning-crazy and exaggerating how exciting it’s going to be, and the kids laughing when it all goes wrong, making fun of me for days. It turned out to be their favourite memory of that holiday. 

Letting go of the expectations

We can plan – or try to – but we can never guarantee the outcome. All we can do is hang on to our sense of humour, and if something changes, cry: “Plot twist!”

As adults, we have expectations of our holidays: we want to make wonderful family memories. The children have their own expectations, too. Sometimes they just want to slob around a bit at home after a busy term at school. It may be that everyone’s best afternoon was the one where we drew the curtains and watched a film on the TV, eating ice lollies on the sofa. Sometimes painting in the back garden is more relaxing than the sightseeing holiday abroad. And sometimes that holiday abroad provides memories that last a lifetime.

Family holidays are generally short: the school holidays are lot longer, which means a lot of time to fill. (Don’t we all have extra appreciation for teachers when we’re faced with entertaining the kids day after day?)

When my kids were young I had a friend who, like me, had four children, and no extended family living nearby. There were no helpful grannies living locally to share the load. So during the summer holidays we would each have all the children for two days a week. It meant we could have that time free to do some work, while on another two days we minded a tribe of eight (but they were all company for each other) and one day with just our own family. It was hard work but a lot of fun, and the holidays flew by!

Our responses matter

It’s important to remember, when looking at social media and seeing everyone else’s fantastic holiday pictures, that they’re only showing the highlights. Of course they’ll show the picnic on the beach, or the educational visit to the stately home. They never show the day they sat with their head in the washing machine with a child screaming outside the door.

It’s not where you go, it’s who you’re with

The holiday season is not about where you go; it’s who you’re with. It’s how you react to the amazing experiences that make everyone go wild. The time you lie on the lawn at night and look at the stars. Or the time the kids are all crying on the way back to the car because they don’t want to leave.

It’s not what you do; it’s your response. It’s your attitude; whether or not you can pick yourselves up and make the best of the disappointing holiday cottage or the cancelled outing. It’s the stories and the giggles, the fun and the tears, the memories and the moments, the times you messed up and had to laugh at yourself. It’s the times you sit there and think: “Oh, my word, I think I just found me. I’ve worked out how this works.” And you get it all right and everyone has the best day ever…until the next time you get it wrong. Then, you realise there is no formula: there’s only family.