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We say yes, yes and yes.
It can be difficult to give ourselves a break at this time of year, but it is definitely worth thinking about our biology and how our bodies work. For those of us living in the northern hemisphere, the shorter days and longer nights have a real impact on our bodies. Fewer hours of daylight mean we have less exposure to light, which has a direct effect on our circadian rhythms (or body clock).
We asked our My First Five Years’ experts for their views.
It is a very rainy Sunday, and my children are stalking the window, looking for an opportunity to get outside. We have four children between the ages of three and eleven, so finding something to entertain everyone can be tricky. Our three-year-old has started bouncing on the sofa singing the Bluey soundtrack on repeat, while his older brother is launching a bouncy ball across the room. The eldest has decided that now is a good time to bake(!) and her sister is turning the cupboard upside down looking for a Pritt Stik. Our house suddenly feels very small.
When I was younger, I swear the summer holidays were longer. They felt like decades of dusty knees, hours spent catching midges in yoghurt cartons at dusk, and games of kerbie (throwing a football against the kerb!) that started after breakfast and were still going days later. Now they still feel long but in a very different way. Six weeks’ worth of military planning that I do not necessarily look forward to. Six weeks of days to fill and memories to make while still attempting to maintain a day job and enjoy every single second. There are so many decisions to be made that I end up making no decisions and then panicking (probably rightly) that I have made hasty, last-minute decisions. So, this year, I’ve decided I need to change my mindset.
I am sitting in our front room, half-dressed as a princess (I cannot fit the costume over my head properly, so it is currently looking like a synthetic, glittery straitjacket for misbehaving grown-ups). My three-year-old is serving me plastic cake from a small red plate. I say serving me, often he is insisting that I put the grotty-looking thing into my mouth and when I resist, he shouts toddler obscenities at me. He’s like a very pushy parent (?) and I am counting down the minutes until I can escape and make a cup of tea, or put the washing away, or do anything other than endure another second of this role play.
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