by Ntombenhle Khathwane

When I think of childhood joy, I still smell petrol stations at dawn and hear my parents’ road-trip playlist. Those drives were our moving sanctuary. After my parents separated, holidays changed. My mom loved us, but now I understand she was exhausted, but to us it felt like rejection and abandonment. She started sending us to grandparents and aunts for most of the break. We loved our cousins, yes, but we would have chosen to be home, or gone for just a week. As an adult, I understand her choice. Work drains us. Life is heavy. We crave silence, clean floors, and sleep without “Mom!” at 5 a.m.

Here’s the reframe: we can refuel and use the holidays to knit ourselves closer to our children. School drains kids too; their nervous systems need familiarity, softness, and predictable presence to recover. The good news is that connection doesn’t require flights or fancy budgets. It asks for attention, rhythm, and small daily rituals.

 

Why this break matters more than we think

During school terms, kids live by bells, deadlines, tests, transport, and constant social performance. Holidays are the nervous system’s “repair window.” If we fill the entire break with travel, crowds, and late nights,!or outsource the whole period to relatives, children often return in January overtired, dysregulated, and brittle. A tired child looks “naughty,” but it’s often just a depleted brain asking for simpler days.

 

I’m not against sleepovers with cousins or a week at gogo’s. I’m for balance: let home be the base camp where bodies and hearts reset. Even if you do send them away, try shorter stints, clear check-ins, and a gentle re-entry week at home before school.

 

A simple holiday rhythm that recharges everyone

Think of your holidays in three layers:

Anchor routines (sleep, meals, fresh air): not clock-perfect, just consistent enough to calm bodies.
Connection windows (15–60 minutes): fully present moments where phones are away and eyes meet.
Parent fuel (non-negotiable pockets just for you): because a regulated parent is a healing environment.

 

Try this light scaffold:

Slow mornings (no rush): breakfast together, one shared chore, one plan for the day.
Quiet Hour (daily): everyone reads, puzzles, journals, or naps. Parents protect this without guilt.
Fresh-air block (30–60 min): walk, park, balcony stretches—movement resets mood.
Evening ritual (20–40 min): story, foot rubs, prayer/meditation, gratitude round.

 

Tiny, repeatable, restful.

 

1. Rainy-summer idea #1 (your example): co-watch a long series, with intention

 

Yes, we can bond over screens, if we co-view, not just co-scroll.

 

Let everyone nominate a series and vote fairly.
Make it an “event”: blankets, popcorn, theme snacks.
Use pause-and-talk moments: “What would you do there?” “Who surprised you?”
Predict the next episode, keep a family quote board, and name inside jokes.
After two episodes, get up: stretch, quick tea, or a 5-minute dance, then decide together if you continue.

 

Screens become a shared story, not a shared isolation.

 

Four more low-cost ideas that work for any age

 

2) The 24-Hour Home Camp-In

Turn the lounge into a campsite: mattresses on the floor, fairy lights, indoor “braai” vibes (toasted sandwiches count), scary/funny stories, and a midnight hot chocolate. End with a slow pancake morning. It costs almost nothing and feels like a holiday.

 

3) Cook-Swap Challenge

Split into teams (kids vs. parents or mixed). Each team cooks one simple meal for the family with a tiny budget cap and a theme (3-ingredient pasta, rainbow salad, street-food night). Younger kids wash veggies; teens drive the playlist; everyone eats together. Skills, pride, laughter—plus dinner is sorted.

 

4) Build & Make Day

Set out a “maker table”: Lego, cardboard boxes, glue, string, old magazines, markers. Rotate prompts each hour: “Build a tiny city,” “Invent a board game,” “Create a family crest,” “Design a gratitude jar.” Snap photos and display your creations for the week.

 

5) Year-in-Review Time Capsule

Print a handful of phone photos or make a digital collage. Everyone adds “My 5 moments,” “1 thing I learned,” “1 thing I’m leaving behind,” and “1 dream for next year.” Seal it (envelope or jar) to open next December. This gives shape to memory and hope.

 

How parents can actually recharge (without shipping kids away)

Gentle truth: you need off-duty time. Try these:

 

Buddy swaps: two families alternate kid-days, one day you host, next day you rest.
Split shifts with your partner/co-parent: one sleeps in; one handles mornings. Swap tomorrow.
Micro-escapes: 20 minutes alone with a book, bath, or walk while kids do Quiet Hour.
Boundaries with love: “For the next 30 minutes it’s Quiet Hour. After that, I’m fully yours.” Reliability makes boundaries feel safe, not rejecting.
Simplify the house rules: fewer chores, fewer outings, fewer expectations. Holidays are for de-compression, not performance.

 

When we drop the “perfect holiday” myth, rest appears.

 

What your kids’ nervous systems need to recover

 

Predictability: the body relaxes when it knows roughly what’s coming.
Presence: brief pockets of full attention beat hours of distracted togetherness.
Movement: daily light exercise prevents cabin-fever explosions.
Sunlight & sleep: earlier nights for a week can change a child’s entire mood.
Permission to be: some days are pajamas, drawing, and doing nothing. Idleness is recovery, not laziness.

 

What happens if we don’t help them recover?

 

By January, we see it: short tempers, tearfulness, sleep battles, clinginess, headaches, tummy aches, school dread. That’s not “bad behaviour,”it’s burnout in small bodies. Unrecovered kids hit the new year with low fuel and a loud inner alarm. They struggle to focus, carry more anxiety, and grasp for numbing (endless screens, sugar, hiding in rooms). A gentle, connected holiday buffers the transition: their bodies remember safety, so their brains can learn again. Everything is new in the new year, a new grade, learning challenges, fitting in, it can be a lot.

If relatives are part of your holiday (and you want balance)

 

Set time limits: “We’ll do five days with gogo, then a week at home to reset.”
Keep the anchors: share your child’s sleep routine, comfort items, and wind-down ritual.
Daily check-in: a quick call/video at a predictable time keeps attachment warm.
Re-entry cushion: leave 2–3 home days before school: early nights, easy meals, no visitors.

 

This honours family while protecting regulation.

A closing story – and an invitation

 

During the 2024/2025 rainy summer, my kids and I committed to a “season.” We chose a series, built a huge, complicated Lego, played card games, Uno etc, built 1000 piece puzzle that took days, and watched, paused, argued, laughed, cooked, and made silly rules about popcorn. It cost almost nothing. Weeks later, the quotes and inside jokes were still bouncing around our kitchen. That’s what I want for you too: ordinary moments turned sacred by attention.

 

Holidays don’t have to be spectacular. They have to be safe, simple, and shared. Protect a rhythm, claim your rest, and give your children the gift they’ll remember longer than any expensive trip: you, present, playful, and unhurried.

 

This year, make the break a place where everyone’s shoulders drop, everyone’s voice is heard, and your family stitches itself a little tighter. That’s how we enter January not just ready, but rooted.