Six Weeks of Summer: When the Holidays Aren’t a Break

Six weeks. That’s how long the UK summer holidays are. Six whole weeks without school, without the daily routine that keeps us all (just about) balanced. Six weeks where our house becomes part playground, part therapy room, part A&E waiting room … and part battlefield.

We have three kids. Our middle child Penny has cerebral palsy (right hemiplegia), epilepsy, and autism. Our other two? Wildly active, intelligent, no additional needs, full of energy and ideas and zero understanding of the word “calm.” We love them all more than anything—but the summer holidays are… well… intense.

Losing the routine

School brings structure. There’s a timetable. There are teachers, friends, therapies, and clear expectations. Then July hits and the structure falls away like someone kicked the legs out from under the table. Penny struggles without that scaffolding—anxiety creeps in, meltdowns come faster, and epilepsy doesn’t exactly respect the fact that it’s “meant to be summer.”

Meanwhile, the other two are asking for swimming trips, park days, playdates, bike rides, and “just one more” adventure. We are constantly pulled in all directions: one child needing quiet, calm, and consistency; two children needing movement, excitement, and chaos, and somewhere in the middle of that we both have to try and work.

It’s never just ‘let’s go out’

A trip to the park isn’t just a trip. It’s thinking about accessibility. It’s checking the weather because heat or bright light can trigger seizures. It’s packing meds, emergency supplies, snacks that everyone will actually eat, and figuring out how to manage if we need to leave in a hurry. It’s weighing up—will the noise be too much? Will we be able to keep eyes on all three at once? Generally I’m working so it will be Ashley picking up the childcare and he has to divide himself into three. But in reality its three with one portion on high alert as anything could happen.

Sometimes it’s easier not to go. But then the guilt hits—the two without additional needs shouldn’t have to miss out because their sibling finds it hard.

The exhaustion nobody sees

You aren’t just “tired” during summer—You’re everything tired. Physically from the constant supervision. Mentally from being the one who holds every single plan and contingency in your head. Emotionally from feeling like you’re never enough for any of them.

And yes, there’s guilt in every direction. Guilt that you can’t split yourself three ways. Guilt that I have to go to work and leave Ashley in the midst of chaos. Guilt that sometimes, just sometimes, you wish the summer was over.

But… there are moments

There are moments. Moments where the three of them are lying on the living room floor together giggling. Moments where one sibling gently takes the other’s hand to help them balance. Moments where we all sit in the garden, sun on our faces, and no one is crying, shouting, or seizing.

Those moments are gold. And they keep us going.

If you’re reading this in the middle of week three, clinging to your coffee like a lifeline, we see you. We don’t get the “holiday” version of summer—but we do get the real version. The one with grit, resilience, love, and messy, imperfect memories. And sometimes, that’s more than enough.