Commuting and parenting - Can the train take the strain?

Last week I went back to being a daily commuter for work - an hour on train & tube in the morning and again in the evening.

I wasn’t really sure what to expect to be honest. I’d been lucky enough for the last nine years to have lived within a 10 minute walk (at one point 30 seconds walk) of my place of employment.

The only commuting I had to do was to the firm’s London office once a week, and usually out of the peak hours.

Living the dream.

Except you don’t really appreciate that at the time though, do you? Everything’s relative, you see, so getting grumpy about having to get out of bed at 6am to catch a train just turns into getting grumpy about having to get up at 8am to walk down the road. Sometimes 8.30am.

So it was with some trepidation that, at the age of 37, I willingly returned to the daily grind.

Firstly, and let’s be clear, it was for a fantastic opportunity, so ‘doing it’ was never in question. And I know that commuting is a daily necessity for a great many people from all walks of life.

But I think what I was most concerned about was how the commute would impact family life. We have a 10 month-old son and my wife and I had established a most excellent work/life balance based around our work hours, work locations (she commutes into London) and childcare.

I wasn’t concerned at all about having to get up early. Really, I wasn’t. Much.

The reality has been something of a mixed bag. The commute itself is not nearly as taxing as I expected (though in the two weeks I’ve been doing it train & tube has been working ok - I’m waiting for the day it all grinds to a halt because of the leaves/snow/monkeys on the line).

Even the early rise isn’t problem as, well, junior has kind of meant early rises for the last 10 months anyway.

The logistics of childcare have had to change a little, but the biggest impact has been the time we get to spend to ether as ‘a family’ in the evening. I particularly miss the time I had with The Boy on my own in the early evening before Mrs East Herts Parent got home from work.

I’ve tried to get round this by putting the commute to good use - carrying a laptop to and from work means I can get stuff done on the way home (I’m on the 6.11pm from Finsbury Park as a write), which means I spend less time of an evening firing off emails and more time with junior.

It also means I’ve been able to get re-acquainted with some box set action on the train that had fallen by the wayside for a year or so.

All of which means commuting as a parent is kind of OK. I mean, we’d all rather not be doing it, but it pays the milk, right?

And you know what? For those mornings/evening after a night when baby doesn’t sleep through, it provides a nice little window (quite literally) to catch some Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Tales from a family beach holiday

Last week I wrote an only slightly tongue in cheek piece listing some top tips for taking a baby on a beach holiday for the first time.

Since then (I was only five days into the 14 day holiday at time of writing) I've thought of another 40-odd things that I could add to the list.

But I'm not going to do that, as a) that's a very long list, and b) it would have to grow bigger with every subsequent trip.

Instead, I thought I'd write a few words about some of the stuff that happened to us on our first family beach holiday, as it was an eventful trip for all kinds of reasons.

Stress Buster

First off, we had a family medical emergency a few days before we were due to travel that made us think about cancelling the trip.

In the end we decided that a two-week break with some friends and family would actually do us good, so we nervously pressed ahead.

In the end it turned out to be the best decision we could have made - a welcome distraction from the real world. But...

Routine Ruiner

One of the points in my 'top tips' list was that routine goes out of the window the moment you touch down at your destination.

Let's just say The Boy swiftly switched to an Iberian routine of late nights and lazy sleep ins.

The problem is, we've been back in the UK for four days now and he doesn't want to revert. Those pre-holiday 8.30pm bedtimes are now 10.30-11ish. We're hoping a full week back here will put him back to normal.

It will, won't it?

Go with the flow

It was certainly a different kind of holiday with a nine month old tagging along. I certainly under-estimated/hadn't fully considered the impact The Boy would have on what I considered to be your standard issue holiday activities timetable.

Ayia Napa 2002 this certainly was not (nor, I should point out, would I ever have wanted it to be *shudder*).

You can - just about - sunbathe if, as parents (and with some help from family and friends) you employ the 'tag team' child entertaining system. Same thing applies for those lovely al fresco dinners by the sea - one of you eats a lovely starter of sardines while the other keeps the little one busy or pushes him around in the buggy.

The point is, the quicker you abandon expectations based on past, childless holidays and embrace the change, the better time you'll have.

And you know what? It's fine. In fact it adds a whole different kind of fun.

Quality family time

That's a cliche if ever there was one, but like the best cliches, it's true. We're both working parents lucky enough to have childcare in the form of grandparents and a nursery for four days of the working week.

About seven days into the holiday we realised that it was longest amount of unbroken time we had spent with junior since mum went back to work. Brilliant.

And he changed while we were away too. More alert than ever (he's 9.5 months old), some early steps (albeit supported) and growing confidence each day in the pool. Even brillianter.

Appreciating how lucky we are

Two bad things that happened before/while we were on holiday made us realise how much we should cherish our time together.

The first was the aforementioned medical emergency, which carried into the the holiday and is still impacting us now.

That sense of togetherness was only amplified when, halfway through our stay, a taxi carrying the family members we were on holiday with crashed into an oncoming car.

Incredibly, everyone walked away with only a few cuts and bruises (kudos to the taxi driver, as without his evasive action it would have certainly been a different outcome)

But the accident was a timely reminder for everyone to appreciate how lucky we are to have, well, what we have. And that seat belts should be worn at all times.

What next

With the post-holiday blues in full effect, we've already cast half an eye over some options for next year's getaway (you've got to have something to look forward to after all).

I'm excited about it already - The Boy will hopefully be swimming (at least with arm bands!) by then and he'll be on his feet too. A whole new level of fun and games.

And best of all? He'll still be able to fly for free!