As a mum of two and a CBT therapist, I like to imagine myself entering the summer
holidays with serene acceptance, a colourcoded schedule, and the emotional
flexibility of a seasoned yogi.

In reality, I’m usually clutching my coffee like a life
raft, whispering “We’ve got this” while mentally calculating how many hours of
childcare I can patch together before someone melts down—possibly me.
This time of year brings a familiar cocktail of emotions. There’s the guilt—oh, the
guilt—about signing the eldest up for summer clubs. You know the ones: “Fun,
enriching, confidencebuilding!” which is code for “a place your child will go while
you attempt to work, breathe, or remember who you are.” I tell myself it’s good for
them, that they’ll make friends, learn new skills, and burn off energy I definitely
don’t have.

And yet, that whisper of shouldn’t I be doing more? creeps in.
Then there’s the relief—yes, actual relief—that the youngest is in nursery all
summer. A tiny part of me wonders if this makes me a terrible mother. The therapist
part of me gently reminds the mum part that this is a perfectly human reaction. The
mum part rolls her eyes and says, “Fine, but can we still feel guilty?” It’s a lively
internal debate.

What I know, both personally and professionally, is that perfectionist thoughts love
summer holidays. They thrive in the chaos. They whisper things like:

“A good mum would create magical memories every day.”
“You should be cherishing every moment.”
“Other mums seem to be coping better.”

These thoughts feel convincing, but they’re not facts. They’re mental
habits—predictable ones, especially when we’re tired, stretched thin, or trying to be
everything to everyone.

CBT teaches us to pause and examine these thoughts rather than obey them.
When I challenge my own perfectionist thinking, the transformation is subtle but
powerful. Instead of “I’m failing,” it becomes “I’m doing my best in a demanding
season.” Instead of “I should enjoy every moment,” it becomes “Some moments
are lovely, some are hard, and that’s normal.” Instead of “Everyone else is coping,”
it becomes “Everyone else is juggling too, even if I can’t see it.”
And when we shift the thought, the feeling shifts too. Guilt softens. Pressure
loosens.

Space opens up for humour, connection, and the occasional moment of
genuine joy—like when both kids are briefly entertained at the same time and you
get to drink your tea while it’s still warm.
Motherhood isn’t transformed by perfect planning or perfect behaviour. It’s
transformed by noticing our thoughts, challenging the ones that pile on pressure,
and choosing kinder, more realistic ones. It’s transformed by accepting that balance
is dynamic, messy, and sometimes held together by summer clubs, nursery days,
and a welltimed snack.

So if you’re entering the holidays feeling stretched, guilty, relieved, hopeful,
overwhelmed, or all of the above—you’re not alone. You’re human. You’re doing

enough. And you’re allowed to build a summer that supports you as much as it
supports your children.