We’ve just flown home from our family holiday.
It was an amazing week together and, as always, I found myself wishing I could bottle up that holiday feeling and bring it home with us. Not because holidays are perfect, but because I really like the version of myself that appears there. I’m more relaxed, more patient and much more present. The children seem calmer too, although I’m sure that’s partly because none of us are constantly rushing from one thing to the next.
Of course, I know why holidays feel different. For the past week I’ve been living my best dad life.
Somebody else is making the beds, planning the meals and cleaning the bathrooms. There are no school runs, endless piles of washing or constant reminders that someone needs PE kit tomorrow. For a week, someone else carries so much of the mental load that normally sits quietly in the background.
I’m not naïve enough to think I can recreate an all-inclusive hotel at home. I don’t have a chef or a housekeeper
But that’s never really been what I wanted to bring home.
What I want to keep is the way we lived.
The slower mornings.
The evenings spent playing cards instead of everyone disappearing into separate rooms.
Taking our time over meals.
Reading more.
Looking up instead of down at my phone.
Making space for the things that make us feel connected.
Over the past few months, I’ve realised that this is something I’ve become much more intentional about anyway. Since leaving teaching, life has slowed down enough for me to notice what actually makes me happy, and none of it is particularly extravagant.
It’s baking with my children.
Reading a book.
Going for a walk.
Keeping up with my hobbies.
Making time for my own wellbeing instead of leaving it until everything else is done.
One thing I noticed on holiday was that I didn’t stop looking after myself because there were jobs to do. I still made time to read. I still moved my body. I still relaxed without feeling guilty.
When I come home, those things are often the first to disappear.
I’m trying not to let that happen this time.
Not because I want every day to feel like a holiday, but because I’ve realised that making time for the things that make me feel like myself isn’t a luxury. It’s part of what allows me to show up as the version of myself I like best.
The irony is that none of those things cost very much. They don’t require another holiday or a completely different life. They just require me to protect the routines that help me feel calm, rested and present.
That’s the real souvenir I wanted to bring home.
