The 10-Minute Circuit Breaker Every Mum Needs This Half Term
It's not one straw that breaks us, it's the weight of all the others before it.
“We’re leaving now. NOW!”
“Whhhhyyyy?
Because you’ve just spat your drink on the floor and your brother is dripping his all over the table with his straw.”
Was it the straw that broke this mummy’s back?
The day had started well. We had guests over for the bank holiday, but, due to lack of a spare room, one was on the sofa and another was at the local hotel. We joined him there for an al fresco breakfast overlooking the beach. The boys were wearing some smart shirts I got at the church sale for 50p each. It could have worked out. It could have been fun even.
(Pic: the whole family, looking smart, on our way to breakfast. Blissfully unaware of what was to follow)
But I hadn’t factored in their complete inability to wait for food to be cooked, sheer outrage that other people were eating when they weren’t, and then as the sun rose higher so did their tempers.
By the time breakfast was over, they had taken their shirts off and were all demanding to be carried. Rafa did a few of those dramatic falls where a toddler swoons in slow motion, then pretends it is impossible to get up and instead blocks a busy pavement.
I tried just breathing through it, but honestly I needed a coffee. Plus we thought getting them inside could help. But alas that ended in straw-gate.
On the abortive walk back up the hill home they were all hot, grumpy, emotional, tired and wanted to be carried. The whining was like a background drone, constant but surging in waves. Then my husband, James, and I started snapping at each other, and tbh I was pretty close to tears by the time I prised a sweaty boy off me, having lugged him up the hill whilst holding another’s hand.
Half term will do this to you.
You’ll try to pull things off you’d never normally consider and expect them to work. Big outings. Late meals. Hot children. Broken routines. “Making memories.” In fact, we nearly booked a trip to France this half-term, but the thought of it made me so anxious, we ditched it. The packing. Six hours in a van. Still doing all the normal mum jobs once we got there. Cooking. Washing. Sorting snacks. Managing moods.
I realised I didn’t actually want a holiday. I wanted a break.
Pinch points
In the talk I gave for Joeli Brearley, about the mum guilt-free return to work, I spoke about pinch points. These are times in our year when either things at work or at home are intense. Half-term is a classic pinch point.
Resources are down. Capacity is down. Expectations need to go down too. Mum guilt thrives in the gap between reality and expectation. Trust me mama, trying to maintain normal standards during abnormal pressure is a recipe for disaster.
Schools and preschools are closed.
All the usual kids’ activities are off.
Normal routine is out the window.
We’ve got kids to feed (I’ve honestly lost count of the snacks) and entertain all day long.
Oh and this time we’ve got a heatwave.
Personally, that’s a recipe for hot, cranky kids that won’t sleep. If anyone knows how to handle overheating three-year-olds please dm me.
Mums don’t come with built-in circuit breakers
(Pic: Rafa on my lap holding a green pipe cleaner, Jerry clutching “Foxy” next to me)
We are expected to put up with surge after surge of stress without a circuit-breaker. We never get a chance to shed the stress load and reset. It’s not the straw that breaks us. It’s the thousands of tiny unprocessed moments before it.
So give yourself that circuit-breaker. Don’t wait for anyone else to hand it to you on a plate because honestly, they won’t.
What difference will 10 minutes make?
When my triplets were tiny and I was flat out, an American friend who had a two-year-old looked me in the eye and said, “What difference will 10 minutes make?”
I blinked, not understanding. I explained all the work I needed to get done in naptime before the babies woke, pump, sterilise bottles, empty the dishwasher, unload the laundry etc.
“Yeah, so what difference would it really make if you just spent 10 minutes sitting in the garden before you did all that?”
She was right. The to-do list was perpetual. I was pinned down by it, no matter how hard I grappled with it, I’d never end up on top. But 10 minutes alone, sitting in the garden in peace could really change how I felt, and how I experienced that morning.
It gave me a moment to feel like a person instead of a walking task list. Someone just about functioning, getting the next thing done, then the next, then the next.
Give yourself 10 minutes
Last night, after I put the boys to bed, I walked resolutely through the messy kitchen, choosing to ignore the noise coming from their bedroom, straight out into the garden.
I did not tidy up the toys strewn all over the lawn. I resisted the urge to pair the shoes kicked off in the vicinity of the door. I did not even get the washing in.
I just watched the golden sunlight, noticed the colours of the flowers I’d seen all day but didn’t really notice. I listened to the seagulls hoping to get lucky with a bank holiday BBQ. I even crept into my hammock. This involved a short battle with mum guilt who wanted to know why I hadn’t cleaned the kitchen or washed the day’s sandy swimwear yet.
After a day of constant noise, demands and physical touch, the quiet felt medicinal. Restorative. Humanising maybe.
It was a perfect 10-minutes before a nappy-clad Jerry, who should have been fast asleep in his own bed crept in with me.
10 minutes will be over in a flash, so take it and enjoy it.
During pinch points, rest isn’t indulgent. It’s the circuit breaker that stops us completely short-circuiting. No one wants to see Mama blow.
If I gave you ten minutes of quiet alone time, what would you do? Let me know in the comments.
I write no-holds-barred about triplet mum life and breaking up with mum guilt. Hit subscribe to join us and be part of this conversation and movement.