By last Monday I was relieved that we were going home. The post holiday blues were already kicking in this was before we had four rounds of sickness and diarrhea and only one bathroom with toilet in a small living space.
When I got onto the plane I was glad to see the back of Spain. 
One month in Spain most people would swoon at the thought but this time around I was counting the days to coming home at the end of week two.
The first week and my whole body felt like it was disintegrating I was definitely the carrier of this infestation but put it down to the flight, tiredness and my IBS.
Week three and I was done.
Was it the menopause fighting back, holiday sickness, spanish malaria?
Or had my body finally realised relaxation?
I don’t understand what that feels like.
If I’m lucky I manage a facial once every two years, a back massage every three and the last time I had reflexology I almost passed out, ‘quite normal’ said the reflexologist, ‘I’ve released all the toxins that are clogging up your body, just drink plenty of water.’
I recollect that feeling of walking on air, nothing bothered, me even when a taxi cab almost drove into me and then promptly told me to go fuck myself, how come this is my fault I breezily said to him, ‘it was YOU that tried to run me over.’
Still, I’m in the land of relaxation, that is what it feels like?
What working mother do you know ever gets real time off let alone time to relax?
At my recent HRT check up the one that involves, blood pressure, weight check and general well being my Doctor said to me in passing ‘you should take a nap in the afternoon’ when I recounted my desperate need or rather desire to sleep because I am always tired.
‘Effects of the menopause’ she said, get a power nap after lunch you’ll be up and running.
Having come back from Spain I completely get the siesta thing, too hot to work so take a nap, every time I hit the sunbed, I was off in la la land into a deep sleep and I have to say it works for me.
Eat, sleep, work but there is one small problem with this scenario I can’t seem to configure thirty minutes for a nap.
I can see myself barricading the office door, setting the alarm clock, 
because if I didn’t you would find me in the morning, head back, eyes closed in nod land.
I love the idea but can’t see it fitting into a schedule that aims to try to fit eight hours into an already rammed six hour day.
The worst thing about coming back from a summer holiday is that feeling you should have done more or made more of the holiday it’s called the ‘post holiday analysis blues’.
We should have done this?
We didn’t get to do that?
Why didn’t we go there this time?
And so it goes.
The weather seems to have turned autumnal and a suntan now sticks out like a bare bum.
For half the year you are desperate for the sunkissed look from fake bake, spray tan and sunbeds then, when you finally get the tan you’ve always wanted everyone stares at you like you’ve got the plague when you walk down the high street.
Then there’s all the stuff you’ve put off until you get back from holiday, bills that need paying, dry cleaning that needs to be collected, school uniform and new shoes for the kids, the ironing that you said you would do before you left for the holiday and now it seems to have quadrupled made worse by the holiday washing.
Your inbox is full of emails but it also includes that ominous email from the boss which says something like hope you had a relaxing holiday can we schedule a meeting as soon as you are back in the office.
You lie there worrying what does he/she need to talk to me about, what have I done? Your stress levels at this point have gone from ‘mucho relaxo’ to tense and agitated.
You feel disconnected because you have spent 24/7 with family sunbathing, siestas, long lunches, swimming, eating out and enjoying a cool glass of something, so far from reality it is pure heaven.
Reality bites and the work treadmill starts over, the same routine, the same jobs and tasks.
The roads are overcrowded and unbearable and you don’t remember being in one traffic jam on holiday.
You are faced with aggressive drivers waving frantically for reasons unknown to you. 
You realise your boss is a complete dick-head and wonder why he is in the position he is in and the national debt can be summed up by your bank statement.
Everything comes into focus because you see clearly, you are relaxed, you question why you get so sucked into the work/life abyss, why does it take five days before you are back in the rut even though after every holiday you swear it will be different this time.
You haven’t worn shoes or socks for what seems an eternity and are used to seeing your bare feet, in flip flops, wedges, or sandals and now the prospect of wrapping those pinkies in socks or tights let alone shoes results in you having to mentally prepare yourself for enslaving your feet in footwear again.
The first time it feels weird, unnatural and uncomfortable.
During the holiday you slept in, or had a siesta, no alarms ringing in your ears no one to disturb you no need to set your life by your watch sadly that ends the moment you set the alarm for work and the school run.
It’s that sinking feeling which usually kicks in two days before you are due to leave for home, it is a mix of sadness and emptiness and for me the last day is awful I feel like my life is over.
Post holiday blues they call it!
It is the last night of the holiday and I’m like a possessed woman, get those suitcases packed, passports and tickets at the ready, is everything done and checked yes it is!
Keeping busy takes the edge off the misery of leaving.
Back in the UK and I fantasise about what it would be like to win the lottery and give up work for good I’d like to get some hens in the garden so I can have freshly laid eggs, be a lady of leisure with only the school run to steer my way through.
Instead, I get mum what’s for tea, mum I need a new pair of trainers, mum have you washed my shirt, mum I need a lift to town.
Welcome home, we missed you!
