When is it a real holiday?
The wonderful wife asked a very interesting question the other evening. Whilst watching a particularly dull Christmas special on TV the usual post Boxing day adverts arrived prompting this; "what does a holiday mean to me?" An easy question to answer you may say, but on closer inspection, I disagree.
Now for those of you of the working persuasion a holiday can quite simply be a break from work. Whether this be a long weekend, a week or even a fortnight, any break from the daily commute can be a welcome one. Even though it seems a lifetime ago I well remember that warm, glorious feeling of that final drive home prior to that wonderful break spending time away from my desk, not thinking about work and drinking in the afternoon purely because I could. Driving home for Christmas wasn't just an exceptionally good song but my official start of the holiday. Knowing that once parked that car of mine was only moving when I wanted to go somewhere, that, prior to children, the alarm would be silent and my eyes would only open when they were ready to.
So a holiday to a singleton, a couple pre kids or to anyone who works can be categorised as a break from the norm. Now here's the moan you all knew was coming, what about me? I asked you dear reader to spare an extra special thought for the stay at home parent whose office you were about to invade prior to Christmas, know I ask another favour. As you begin to feel sorry for yourself that the holiday is over, that the long commute is about to start again, that the same job you didn't like before the turn of the year is still waiting for you, I ask you to think about the person you are leaving at home.
As the bread winner in the family returns to the fold we the stay at homer, can, with some justification, ask "when's my holiday?" True we may have had a few extra late mornings, indeed a drop more alcohol than normal may have been consumed and believe it or not we feel grateful for having the whole family at home but trust me, we are knackered, pooped, worn out, simply put, tired. The process of putting the home back together is not a short one, the laundry basket appears fuller than normal and if I have to load that fecking dishwasher one more fecking time I swear........
So what does a holiday mean to me? As I stand in my office writing these thoughts it occurs to me that this is it. As I start the new year full of hope and vigour (I know, it won't last) I realise I have something the jobbers don't. I have my own schedule. True I have jobs that need to done, jobs that should be done and jobs that I'll get to eventually, but I get to do them when I want. I have no deadline (really), no bell to tell me where to be (ish) and my coffee break occurs whenever I put water in the kettle. The sense of freedom I get to experience for 50% of the day is what the jobbers get to experience, indeed what they long for, during a holiday.
So I conclude by wishing you, dear reader, a very happy, healthy and prosperous new year with a message to my fellow stay at homers. Time to relax, the real holiday begins now.
Now for those of you of the working persuasion a holiday can quite simply be a break from work. Whether this be a long weekend, a week or even a fortnight, any break from the daily commute can be a welcome one. Even though it seems a lifetime ago I well remember that warm, glorious feeling of that final drive home prior to that wonderful break spending time away from my desk, not thinking about work and drinking in the afternoon purely because I could. Driving home for Christmas wasn't just an exceptionally good song but my official start of the holiday. Knowing that once parked that car of mine was only moving when I wanted to go somewhere, that, prior to children, the alarm would be silent and my eyes would only open when they were ready to.
So a holiday to a singleton, a couple pre kids or to anyone who works can be categorised as a break from the norm. Now here's the moan you all knew was coming, what about me? I asked you dear reader to spare an extra special thought for the stay at home parent whose office you were about to invade prior to Christmas, know I ask another favour. As you begin to feel sorry for yourself that the holiday is over, that the long commute is about to start again, that the same job you didn't like before the turn of the year is still waiting for you, I ask you to think about the person you are leaving at home.
As the bread winner in the family returns to the fold we the stay at homer, can, with some justification, ask "when's my holiday?" True we may have had a few extra late mornings, indeed a drop more alcohol than normal may have been consumed and believe it or not we feel grateful for having the whole family at home but trust me, we are knackered, pooped, worn out, simply put, tired. The process of putting the home back together is not a short one, the laundry basket appears fuller than normal and if I have to load that fecking dishwasher one more fecking time I swear........
So what does a holiday mean to me? As I stand in my office writing these thoughts it occurs to me that this is it. As I start the new year full of hope and vigour (I know, it won't last) I realise I have something the jobbers don't. I have my own schedule. True I have jobs that need to done, jobs that should be done and jobs that I'll get to eventually, but I get to do them when I want. I have no deadline (really), no bell to tell me where to be (ish) and my coffee break occurs whenever I put water in the kettle. The sense of freedom I get to experience for 50% of the day is what the jobbers get to experience, indeed what they long for, during a holiday.
So I conclude by wishing you, dear reader, a very happy, healthy and prosperous new year with a message to my fellow stay at homers. Time to relax, the real holiday begins now.
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