I went with my Dad, my Stepmum, the 6 year old and the 4 year old. We travelled in the same car which meant I had to sit, wedged, between my darling children for an hour and a half.

Now I know why they argue. I felt like a child again, myself, as I berated the 6 year old continuously for touching my white linen trousers with her sandals. The 4 year old fell asleep on my shoulder, leaving a snail trail of drool on my top.

I had brought some snacks for the journey. Noting my white linen trousers I bought a selection of dry cheese snack products from Tesco and water in bottles.

When the 6 year old saw the cheese strings she was like a heroin addict being shown a bag of the brown stuff. Her eyes widened and I told her this was her once yearly treat.  I don’t trust any food product that can be fashioned into a palm tree in 0.5 seconds. Finished off with a healthy *cough* bag of mini cheddars their snack attack was over … and my white linen trousers were still white.

I tweeted about the cheese strings and got the following response from my sister …

I had a flashback to the Summer of 2000.  I was sat in My Sister’s Espace on the way to the South of France. The car had five people in it and was packed to the roof with luggage and holiday ’stuff’.

My nephew, then aged 6, had eaten a hearty lunch on the Channel Tunnel of cheese strings and Haribo.  As we left the Tunnel I settled down for a nap, he was sat behind me.  As I drifted off, dreaming of yachts in St Tropez there was an almighty vomiting sound, behind me.

My nephew had, in one swift movement, released the cheese string/Haribo mix combo from his stomach and deposited it all over the back of my chair, narrowly missing my hair.

My Sister sprang into action, and cleared the sick, like only a mother can.  Armed with a can of Febreze she eradicated the smell of cheese strings and Haribo.  Unfortunately for the rest of the journey (24 hours) and the next two weeks the car smelt of Febreze, sick … cheese strings and Haribo.

I can still smell it now.

… and as our journey continued to Runcorn yesterday, sat trapped between my offspring, I tried to protect my white linen trousers with a hoodie and moved the 4 year old’s sleeping mouth away from my shoulder in case of any cheese string evacuation.

This all changed during our holiday to Italy with Keycamp.  We all relaxed.  It could have been the weather, consistently sunny; Or  maybe their ages, they are now more independent; Or the fact that all our needs were catered for.

We stayed on the Ca’Savio site at Cavallino near Venice in Northern Italy (the pictures on the website don’t really do it justice).

The children were in their element.  We alternated our time between the two pools and beach which the campsite backed onto.  When we were at our caravan the children made friends with the children opposite and made the most of their freedom.

I was a bit wary about whether either of my children would want to go to a kids club whilst on holiday and I didn’t give it much thought until their new friends said they were going.

I discovered that the on-site club would take children from the age of 4, but the Keycamp club’s clubs were 0-4 and 5+.  The 4 year old wanted to be with his sister so we opted for the on-site club.  They had a lovely time, collecting shells on the beach to make into necklaces, going on bouncy castles, drawing, making mobiles and peacocks.  They wanted to go every morning after that.  They went four times in total.

The first time I left them I felt a bit lost, if I’m honest.  I soon realised that for two hours they were enjoying themselves.  I could read my book without interruption, sunbathe, swim or on the last day pack our suitcases and get ready to leave without two bored children getting in the way.  I would definitely take advantage of the kids clubs again.

The campsite was just the right size and didn’t feel too crowded, the facilities were excellent.  With two pools and the beach all within a 5 minute walk we never got bored.

My only grumble is that the linen, towels and welcome pack were not there when we arrived and we had to wait for it.  Also because it was the beginning of season the kitchen was not fully equipped.  Luckily the on-site Keycamp representatives (couriers) were on hand to remedy this … and they also threw in a bottle of wine which went down a treat.

The local town had some lovely restaurants with really friendly staff. We ate a lot of pizza and seafood which was excellent.

The boat to Venice was only a 10 minute drive away.  We spent the day there. For 16 EUROS per person (4s and under free) we were able to get a return trip to Venice including all water taxis. We had a fabulous, but expensive, lunch on the Grand Canal … the best mozzarella I’ve ever tasted.  It is a really beautiful city and one I definitely want to return to for further exploration.

We hired a car as the airport was 35 minutes away.  Once we were there we didn’t actually use it that much and returned it with an almost full tank of petrol.

Bike hire was available on the site and if we were there for a little longer we would have probably taken advantage of this, as it was we were close enough to everything not to need it.

This wouldn’t have been the sort of holiday that we would have chosen.  We would normally opt for a villa holiday.  But after a week at Ca’Savio we realised that it was the perfect family holiday and everyone got something out of it.

For the first time ever we came home from holiday feeling refreshed. We are already planning which Keycamp campsite to visit next year.

Thank you Keycamp.  Big smiles all round!

We’ve opened presents, eaten all the Quality Street, celebrated the New Year, had a few hangovers, eaten lots of sprouts, I’ve *shock horror* nearly finished reading my book, watched LOADS of films … and now it’s time to go back to reality.

School and work are looming large on the horizon, tomorrow in fact. The children who have had more late nights than I care to mention have been reacquainted with their early bedtime in the hope that it will ease them back into the school routine smoothly. Who am I kidding? As with every other ‘back to school’ week after a holiday my children will be little demons after school this week and I will tear my hair out. But today, which is Sunday, I am optimistically ironing uniform, packing the 3 year old’s lunch, writing cheques for the 5 year old’s school dinners and trying to remember where I put the 5 year old’s PE pumps two weeks ago.

It feels like longer than two weeks. I am actually sad that we won’t be spending all our time together, that I will be handing them over, once again, to teachers and childminders. As a working mother I feel guilt that I spend less time with the 3 year old than I did with his sister. I feel annoyed that during the working week I get the after school versions of my children which sees me sorting out reading, homework, tea and bedtime with often reluctant participants

Still, on the upside I won’t have to repeat myself over and over again at work. Choice phrases from this holiday have been … “You are too close to the TV”, “How long have you been playing on your DS for?”, “The dog has done a poo where!?”, “No, you have eaten all the chocolate coins”, “No, there are no more presents, this is it now”.

Only another 323 days till the next Christmas holiday

Now, where did I put those pumps?

Before we went people kept asking me if I’d bought a portable DVD player for the children. I would look at them horrified. Why would I need a portable DVD player when I had spent endless hours thinking up ‘fun’ activities, packing exciting books and thinking up a myriad of entertaining songs?

I never had a portable DVD player when my parents used to take me on ‘adventures’ through deepest darkest Spain … no, I thought up my own entertainment.

Of course three hours into our journey to France I would have given my kidney, a leg and possibly an eyeball to have one to thrust at them and drown out their whining voices.

Anyway, they would sleep for at least 12 of the 24 hours, wouldn’t they?  Err, no.  They would sleep for approximately one hour each during the entire journey … and not at the same time.

So, instead of buying a portable DVD player I simply vowed never to travel great distances with the children again. Sometimes a trip to Tesco is too far.

My latest problem comes in the form of a Nintendo DS. The 5 year old has wanted one, well … forever really.  Having a teenage sister who spent 3 years glued to hers shortly before she discovered mascara and skinny jeans just made the need even greater.

Imagine the look on her face last Christmas when she realised that Santa hadn’t been able to read her writing properly on her letter to him.  She got a pony which moves it’s neck, eats carrots, flutters it’s eyelashes and neighs … like a real horse.   “I cannot believe that Santa didn’t bring me a Nintendo DS. What was he thinking?” Followed by a big sigh and her head in her hands.

Her birthday came and went, with no DS but a poxy trampoline that her brother LOVES.  She thinks this is it, this is the year.  She has been practicing her Christmas list since the blip last year and she’s ready.  There WILL be one this year, of that she is sure.

It’s not that I am against modern technology or being a big old meanie but I know my daughter well. I love that she spends hours singing to herself in her bedroom whilst drawing, or chattering to herself in a make believe world or playing in the garden for hours with only her brother and her imagination.

I just don’t want the arguments about how much time she spends staring at it with a glazed expression, we have Cbeebies for that.

But I have been taken in, I am faltering. I am torn, my head is screaming “Noooooooooooooo!”, my heart is telling me that if I don’t she will never forgive Santa and then her make-believe world will come crashing down round her ears anyway.

After all EVERYONE else has one.

So, this is it, I’m giving in.  This could be the 5 year old’s best Christmas yet.

Oh and I’ve remembered what I used to do for entertainment in the back of the car during our adventures in Spain circa 1985. I used to either sing the tune from the ‘Trio’ or the ‘Um Bongo’ adverts on repeat … OR … pretend that my parents had kidnapped me and wave through the back window at other drivers in a demented fashion … and we can’t be having that.

I can remember a time when a holiday involved a sunbed and a book … not sharing a sunbed with a soggy child whilst trying to get sand out of a swim nappy and shouting across a crowded beach to the husband that child number two needs a poo.

Pre children we packed a bag, got in the car and drove to France. We didn’t book anything, we took a chance. Husband and I spent a leisurely week taking in the sights. We slept in a different hotel in a different town every night … apart from one night when we slept in the car (not through choice). We ate great food, drank excellent wine and it was an adventure.

We went to Barcelona, ate tapas, drank too much, laughed even more and mooched. Perfect.

We went to the Edinburgh Fringe. Took in some street theatre, some comedy shows, more drinking, mooching and some afternoon naps back at the B&B. Aaaah, bliss.

Since having the children we have had a variety of holidays … all lovely but not much relaxing involved. Just because you are sleeping in a different bed at night and smothering yourself in suncream by day does not mean that your children will suddenly need less attention.

If I’m not dreaming that the children are drowning in the swimming pool (is it just me?) then I’m listening to them whine because they are too hot or watching them flick sand in each others eyes.

And, how many times can a headstrong toddler take off their sun hat in the blazing sunshine?

Then there’s the travel. Fly, drive, sail … take your pick. It’s almost guaranteed to give you palpitations at regular intervals.

Don’t get me wrong, there have been some marvellous moments during our holidays, but the stress levels needed to get to that point are, well, high.

I’m sure as they get older it will become easier. For one, when they can both swim I can stop having the drowning in the pool dream, right?

Anyway, I have been given an opportunity. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity for a few reasons;

1. I’m going away without the kids

2. I’m going away without the husband

3. I’m going somewhere that husband would, in his own words, rather gargle with razor blades than visit

All in the name of research

I can’t wait, in a matter of weeks I shall be …

… I can’t say anymore for fear of jinxing my freedom.

In time my pretties, in time.