IT'S A DAD'S LIFE:The more order I craved, the crazier things got. I finally learned to let go, writes ADAM BROPHY
I THINK I just got it: school summer holidays are designed to make you a better man.
They start out as a trial, the holidays that is, not the kids. The kids are a trial too, but in a good, ie not always murderous, way. The summer starts with concern about what to do with them, which summer camp(s) to go to, how much TV they should be allowed watch, where you should bring them camping, how much you should feed them, who they should have sleepovers with, what beach gear they need.
All the things our own parents didn’t give a toss about (because, obviously, they had the right idea and ordered us to go outside and play).
After the trial, you have immersion. You sit into the car and drive them from pony camp to the swimming pool, pausing only to top up sunscreen that’s rainproof and make more sandwiches.
You learn to drive one-armed, weaving through country lanes while using the other either to hold kids in their seats in the back or change them into their next piece of kit. Soon, removing jodphurs and replacing them with swimsuits by feel alone becomes second nature. It has to if you’re fielding work calls at the same time.
Immersion is followed by a railing at the unfairness of it all. This is the ‘what happened to my summer?’ period and is inevitable but brief. We’re mature enough to realise we will lie in peace on a beach again. In our 50s. The sobbing passes quickly and we once more fire up the wash/dry spin cycle on the Hotpoint.
Once the railing is done, acceptance can be gained. No longer is it so painful that every, absolutely every, conversation with other parents has to concern the weather and its effect on our daily routines. You stop wanting to rip out your eyeballs during conversations concerning whether or not to buy a cheap wetsuit in Dunnes or invest in something more substantial in the Great Outdoors.
You can halt the grind of your teeth when the next mum looks to you for assurance that, yes, we are doing the right thing in ensuring our offspring are kept active.
For to let them sit and occupy themselves for a whole day would be akin to cuffing them to a bed in a Romanian orphanage. You learn to smile and prepare for the next activity.
And then, you wake up one morning and realise you’ve been duped. Because, as you walk towards the kitchen you notice that the amount of children suckling at, well, if not quite your teat, then the surrounding areas, has trebled.
There are also a couple of spare adult friends you hadn’t noticed arriving chewing through your breakfast cereal and a random grandparent or two wandering towards the shower. You blink and realise your house has become a commune.
Here’s what’s happened. More skilled, more experienced parents than you have seen the light of awareness extinguish in your eyes. They know you’ve bought the summer holiday ticket, you’ve accepted it for the whole ride. They spotted your weakness and slipped their own kids in under the radar when your defences were down.
At the same time, word has gone out that you’ve become a summer holiday automaton and friends and/or relatives with a little free time on their hands have come to join the circus.
The place is a dishevelled mess, as are you, but you notice your shoulders have dropped, your jaw eased out, and you’re smiling as you reach for that first mug of coffee.
You crack your neck and reach for the diary. Nothing is arranged for today. Nothing.
A four-man tent containing an army of dolls is in full-swing as a working hospital in the back garden. The paddling pool creaks with splashing kids.
Rain pours down and you wonder have they noticed. You retrieve your paper from under granny’s nose and tell her to stick on a few eggs. Settle and chill.
There must be a summer tipping point, one at which all organisational concerns go out the window. The kids get a little feral and you refuse to shave or wash. You invite the rest of the world in to share the mess. I tried to hold it together, but the more I attempted to keep a handle on summer, the more my family scoffed at me.
The more order I craved, the crazier things got. Now I have let the reins go. Finally, summer is here.