For most working parents, the phrase “school holidays” brings a strange mix of joy and dread, writes Sarah Newton. Joy, because there’s more time to spend with your kids. Dread, because there’s more time to spend with your kids and work doesn’t offer six weeks off just because your child’s school calendar says it’s time to make memories.
So how do we do it? How do we juggle deadlines, meetings and client calls while keeping small humans alive without losing our sanity? Or our jobs?
I don’t have the answer and my children are almost grown up, so the days of stepping over Lego mines on the way to a Zoom call are mostly behind me. But I do remember the blur of those years – the sticky fingers on my keyboard, the whispered negotiations for just 10 more minutes of quiet, the guilt of screens and writing to a client while locked in the downstairs loo, hoping no one would find me.
Ironically, Penguin PR was created so that Simon and I could spend more time with our children – and our initial conversations about it were in Freddie’s Play Kingdom. At the time, we both had jobs where asking to finish early to watch a nativity or collect a child from holiday camp would mostly be met by hysterical laughter. So, we felt it would be easier to go it alone and build a company that put family at the centre of its culture. And, by and large, that worked.
Of course, our “family first” policy didn’t mean we suddenly had endless free time or stress-free holidays. What it meant was having the flexibility to shape our days around the chaos of parenting, rather than trying to fit our lives into the rigid expectations of a traditional 9–5.
There were still deadlines, clients and the occasional crisis that couldn’t wait – but there was also the freedom to take a break for the school run without guilt, to work evenings after bedtime if needed, or to have a poorly child curled up next to us during a Teams call.
We have tried to build Penguin PR not just as a business, but as a reflection of the kind of working life we wanted – one where family wasn’t an afterthought but part of the picture from the beginning. And over the years, we’ve extended that same ethos to our team. We know what it’s like to balance a proposal with a poorly-timed tummy bug. We understand when someone needs to move a meeting because school just called.
But let’s be clear – flexibility doesn’t mean fantasy. We also recognise that the dream of working from the beach is just that: a dream. You picture a serene scene – laptop on your knees, sea breeze in your hair, the kids building sandcastles nearby.
Reality? You’re taking a work call, trying to sound professional while mouthing “DON’T THROW SAND AT YOUR SISTER” and shielding your screen from the glaring sun/giant raindrops, possibly both at the same time.
But my kids don’t remember the time I wrote a statement for a client in the midst of a crisis while sitting on a tourist train weaving round the roads of Corsica. Or me taking a telephone call while waiting for the pool to open in Egypt. Or writing a press release while sitting on a bench at Gulliver’s Kingdom surrounded by the sound of screaming children and the lingering smell of chicken nuggets.
What I’ve learned – and what I wish someone had told me back then – is that survival mode is enough. You won’t always get it right. Some days, work wins. Some days, the kids do. Most days, it’s a bit of both and not enough of either.
But here’s the thing: your children aren’t looking for perfection and they are watching how you navigate chaos and that hopefully teaches them more than any perfectly planned day ever could.
So, if you’re cobbling together childcare, swapping work hours with your partner like you’re trading cards, or bribing your way through the week with ice cream and YouTube – you’re not failing. You’re parenting in real life and showing your kids that adulting is hard work, but it’s done with love (even if you are slightly unhinged by Friday). You’re showing them that responsibility doesn’t mean rigidity, that showing up matters more than showing off, and that sometimes doing your best means just making it through the day.
They won’t remember whether dinner was homemade or microwaved, or whether the crafts you set up looked like Pinterest or a crime scene. But they will remember how it felt to be loved and included in the beautiful, messy balancing act of your life.
School holidays are not for the faint of heart – especially when you’re trying to balance spreadsheets with storytime and emails with indoor soft play. But somewhere between the meltdowns and the meetings, there are moments that make it worth it.
So here’s to the working parents – the ones taking phone calls from the beach, replying to emails with one hand while wiping chocolate off a child’s face with the other. And take heart: at least you’re not the working mum I know whose child bent over and asked her to check if their bum was clean – mid Teams call.
