How Quality Over Quantity Ruins Things

Quality family time is a concept that provokes a mixed bag of emotions in me.

I love the idea of it: the potential for shared connection, fun, memory-making.

But I also recognise that it is exactly these types of unrealistic expectations that often lead to the chaos and conflict that then disappoint me.

And because they are there, and I am aware that they are unrealistic, I sometimes use them to avoid family time altogether.

Preferring not to enter into either the expectation or the disappointment. And simply remain all alone without connection, fun or new memories.

It feels like a kind of vicious circle.

Because if I just made the effort to spend a little more time with the family, the less need there would be, from my side, for it to be perfect - it wouldn't be such a rare thing.

And I wouldn't need to skew the word "quality" through my "not-quite-good-enough" mother lens.

To carve out the time or to not carve out the time; to make an effort to create special time or to go with what comes up: these are my summer holiday, working-mama dilemmas.

And despite the passing years and ample practise that these long stretches of home-time bring, I'm not sure I ever get any closer to an answer. 

It feels like there is no straight line between what it looks like to be selfless or selfish but instead a circuitous kind of wiggle.

And it's not at all clear who is on either side of that line or whether we are both actually on the same side: does what benefits me, benefit them in the long run too? Or to truly benefit them does family time need to be special?  

Every day feels like I'm a (different) tangled ball of wool.

So very many threads representing each of the parts of me: my inner voices, my wounds, my list of 'shoulds' – all of them mixed up with the energy, mood and hormone levels of that day.

And I find myself grappling over whether it would be 'best' to take time out for myself so that I can then share my 'best self' or whether 'best' is just turning up as I am?

The problem with the first option is that I often get carried away - it's so nice that I forget that it was supposed to be a means to an end, and the end (spending time with them) never actually happens.

So then I err towards the second option.

But what if turning up just as I am, means not being much fun to be around? And I ruin exactly what I was trying to create?

In other words, what does quality time actually look like? For them? And for me?

Can they ever be the same? Whose definition takes precedence? And is 'quality' even necessary?

These are the parenting questions that are ever-present for me during the school holidays.     

And in the end, I have to remind myself that parenting isn't a destination - one that I will eventually arrive at, when I've worked it all out and finally 'got' it.

But a journey that looks different, every day.

And some days, I am able to be my 'best self'. Whilst on others, I either can't and feel guilty, or I can't and I don't care.

Maybe these last days are the best of all - for me and the kids - because I'm not trying so hard. There are no expectations and I'm showing up fully as the person that I am that very day (whatever that looks like).

I'll never know.

Because in the end, school goes back. And I retreat like a crab into the shell of my routine as they retreat into theirs.

And family time no longer feels like it's solely my responsibility to create. But simply gets squeezed automatically into the nooks and crannies of term time by each and every one of us.

Which suits me just fine.