All my Christmas huffing and puffing has prompted a new catchphrase: ‘Stop struggling, Mum’ | Emma Brockes
This is the most flat-out week of the year, in which the sheer volume of low-key demands leaves families dragging themselves towards the finish lineEvery few years, the grind of modern life inspires calls for a radical rethink. We have seen this most recently in Iceland, where the rollout of a 35-hour, four-day working week has shown signs of success, and more broadly with the conversation around remote working. For obvious reasons, these productivity experiments relate to adult working life. But what if children’s increasingly frantic lives were also given a rethink?I write this under the strain of what feels like the most flat-out week of the year, in which the sheer volume of low-key demands – plays, choirs, nativities, secret Santas, whip rounds, costume days, not to mention the bizarre closure of so many after-school programmes aeons before school finishes – leaves families dragging themselves towards the finish line, gasping for air. This image isn’t, as it turns out, merely figurative. As I slog through the final days, I am so theatrically put-upon that every small gesture triggers involuntary noises – huffing, puffing, groaning, sighing, the occasional piercing shriek – something I have only become conscious of thanks to my children’s catchphrase of the season: “Stop struggling.”Emma Brockes is a Guardian columnist Continue reading...
This is the most flat-out week of the year, in which the sheer volume of low-key demands leaves families dragging themselves towards the finish line
Every few years, the grind of modern life inspires calls for a radical rethink. We have seen this most recently in Iceland, where the rollout of a 35-hour, four-day working week has shown signs of success, and more broadly with the conversation around remote working. For obvious reasons, these productivity experiments relate to adult working life. But what if children’s increasingly frantic lives were also given a rethink?
I write this under the strain of what feels like the most flat-out week of the year, in which the sheer volume of low-key demands – plays, choirs, nativities, secret Santas, whip rounds, costume days, not to mention the bizarre closure of so many after-school programmes aeons before school finishes – leaves families dragging themselves towards the finish line, gasping for air. This image isn’t, as it turns out, merely figurative. As I slog through the final days, I am so theatrically put-upon that every small gesture triggers involuntary noises – huffing, puffing, groaning, sighing, the occasional piercing shriek – something I have only become conscious of thanks to my children’s catchphrase of the season: “Stop struggling.”
Emma Brockes is a Guardian columnist Continue reading...
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