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Two weeks ago, I attended a friend’s wedding in Devon. The trip was smooth—I set the alarm for 5 a.m., showered, made coffee to go, and hit the road by 5:30 a.m. I drove straight through, arriving three hours later, avoiding both traffic and the ordeal of motorway service stations. I enjoyed catching up on TED Talks, and once at the hotel, I had breakfast and took a nap before getting ready for the ceremony at a relaxed pace. My friend had decided on a no-kids policy for the wedding, which made it a calm and enjoyable experience for the guests, most of whom are parents. We celebrated, danced, and the next morning, we woke to sleep off our hangovers on the beach, content.
The concept of a holiday changes entirely after having children. The days of late nights, sleeping in, and indulging in novels or sticking to your own schedule feel like a distant fantasy. Traveling with kids, unless you’re fortunate enough to have a nanny or an especially supportive partner, is far from the leisurely experience it once was.
We missed the chance to benefit from free flights for children under two. The sheer volume of items we needed for the trip was overwhelming, and traveling within the UK felt like a simpler option.
Yesterday, Sebby, Piglet, and I arrived in Polzeath for our annual family holiday. The day prior was spent frantically packing, making lists, ensuring we had all the necessary toys for bedtime, and stockpiling fish fingers out of a fear they wouldn’t be available locally—a friend reassured me otherwise, but it helped my peace of mind.
While my child is a delight to travel with and generally well-behaved, the preparation and travel still feel stressful to me. We made three service station stops along the way for restroom breaks, lunch, and to shake off the monotony. After five hours of listening to the Aladdin soundtrack on repeat, I know every lyric by heart, and it’s stuck in my head. For the first time, I truly felt middle-aged when forced to buy a Thule roof rack because everything needed for the holiday wouldn’t fit in my (large) Mini. That £500 purchase marked a turning point—gone are the days of tossing a bikini and a few outfits into a suitcase and hopping on a plane.
Holidays are exhausting, yet filled with moments of pure joy—moments when there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than with your child. Today, we explored the beach, looking for bears in the caves and searching for Nemo in the rock pools.
I always return from holidays feeling like I need another break, but also incredibly fulfilled. So go ahead and get that roof rack or book that flight—the happiness kids experience on holiday makes all the logistical headaches feel trivial.
