When my daughter was younger, as much as I loved the novelty of going on holiday with her, it was never relaxing. After asking me “Are we there yet?” every five minutes – or what felt like it – on our way there, she would arrive at our accommodation grumpy, tired and hungry. She whined, endlessly – she missed her room, her toys, and she wanted her favourite pasta from her favourite restaurant.
After settling her down for bedtime, we would both sleep fitfully, only to wake up too early in an unfamiliar bed. The second day would always be better than the first – hurray for the middle day! – but she would get so upset when we told her we had to go home on the following day.
By the time we had to leave, I needed a holiday from my holiday. I was exhausted from holding space for my daughter’s big feelings. It just didn’t feel worth the trouble. If I wanted to relax, I was better off staying in the comfort of my home, where both my daughter and I had the safety of our routines and favourite foods.
And then something changed. Or, more accurately, my mindset did. I realised that my daughter wasn’t trying to give me a hard time. She was having a hard time. Her grumbling and whinging were her age-appropriate way of seeking emotional regulation, given that she was missing all the comforts of home. Truth be told, I was too. Her own discomfort was triggering mine. To be perfectly honest, I struggle on holiday too. I’m also out of my comfort zone.
And then I realised that my daughter wasn’t trying to give me a hard time. She was having a hard time.
For instance, as much as I love being at the beach, getting in and out of the water is tricky. All transitions are difficult for me. The grittiness of dry sand on my feet bothers me. The risk of eating something that isn’t my safe food bothers me too. Having to deal with new sights, sounds and smells can easily send me into sensory overload.
A gamechanger for me has been accepting my daughter’s neurotype as well as my own, and doing my best to accommodate for both. I try to plan for success, for both of us. That means aiming for a longer holiday, instead of a shorter one. The more ‘middle days’ we have, the better. We avoid long road trips, as much as possible, and plan ahead so we can book direct domestic flights. I pack our favourite snacks, and plan ahead to ensure there’s suitable food we can both eat when we reach our destination.
Amidst the discomfort of upending our routines, there are so many pockets of joy. It’s deeply thrilling when I swim with my daughter in the ocean. She loves being in the water as much as I do. She and her sister have so much fun with their floaties and sand play. We delight in discovering shells, seaweed, and burying our legs in wet sand. We love being on the beach, especially now that I only pack Crocs, which means I don’t have to deal with the sensory horror of wet socks and damp Skechers – my preferred footwear, in every other situation.
Executive functioning is not a strength of mine, and I have to refer to a list every single time I pack. I will never forget the awful holiday where I forgot to pack my phone charger. That felt worse than forgetting my undies – which I have done, on more than one occasion. My phone is my gateway to sensory regulation, whether it be via my favourite audiobooks, or by reading books on my Kindle. I miss my laptop deeply when I go on holiday, but cannot risk it getting damaged en route, so I’ve discovered the joy of writing and sketching in my holiday journals.
A gamechanger for me has been accepting my daughter’s neurotype as well as my own, and doing my best to accommodate for both.
It helps to have my husband, an able-bodied neurotypical adult, to come with us on holiday. He is a packing extraordinaire, and has a much larger buffer of calm. No matter how much of a hilariously disastrous day we have with our daughters, we have our nights to decompress. Some of my favourite parts of holidaying are at night with my husband; we watch shows on his iPad while snacking on room service.
As our daughters have gotten older, we’ve been able to go on holidays that are a bit further away. It is getting easier. I cherish the memories we are making, and I’m grateful for my much more realistic expectations. I think of holidays as something exciting that comes once a year, with pockets of restorative calm amidst the chaos. I am always relieved to come home.
We’re experiencing school holidays with open borders and for the first time in years, international flights are an option for us. It’s been a long time since we’ve gone on overseas holidays though, so we’re not braving a long-haul flight just yet. That is something we’re slowly building up to, one family holiday at a time.
*Author’s real name is not used.
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