Because nothing says ‘school holiday’ like being touched out, screamed at, and every surface being covered in crumbs.
Wait, aren’t holidays supposed to be a break?
If you’ve ever made it three days into school holidays and thought, I would sell a kidney to get the school drop-off back, you’re not alone.
The ADHD mums in our community have been quietly screaming this into the void (and the group chats) for years.
And no — it’s not just you.
ADHD + no routine + sensory chaos = a slow mental unravelling that makes you question your life choices, your parenting, and occasionally, your will to live.
Why holidays hit harder when you’re neurodivergent
Let’s break it down:
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No structure = executive function hellscape
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Increased sensory input = louder, messier, more fights
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Reduced support = you’re suddenly CEO of Snacks, Chaos & Emotional Regulation, Inc.
The term might’ve nearly broken you, but at least there was scaffolding.
School ends, and it’s like someone yanked the Jenga piece from your sanity tower.
Working vs Not Working: Either Way, You’re F*cked
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Working mums? You’re guilt-ridden and overstimulated.
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Stay-at-home mums? You’re emotionally fried and chronically touched.
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Running your own business during the holidays? May as well attempt a triathlon with a toddler duct-taped to your leg.
Neither version is easier. Both come with an emotional tax you didn’t agree to pay.
Let’s not forget the Easter sh*t show
Somehow Easter went from “egg and a sleep-in” to a full-blown, gift-giving, Pinterest-worthy pressure cooker.
You might be:
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Hosting family you don’t even like
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Managing kids who melt down mid-egg hunt
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Pretending to be religious enough to survive a lunch without debate
And still the one doing everything — from logistics to gift-buying to politely lying through your teeth.
Kids at home = sensory war zone
Sibling fights.
Constant “I’m bored.”
Playdates that feel like hostage situations because now you’re supervising other people’s feral children too.
Even the “fun” parts come with a hangover:
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Planning, packing, refereeing
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Sorting social dynamics that make your brain itch
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Cleaning up every damn room (including the one they weren’t even supposed to be in)
So, what the hell can we do about it?
Here’s what’s helped me — and might stop you from burning down your house:
1. Lower the damn bar
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You don’t have to be present all day.
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You don’t need to make it magical.
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Your kids won’t be in therapy over one crap day — but you might if you don’t get a break.
2. Pre-plan the meltdown plan
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One activity per child that buys you 30 mins (movies, craft, Lego — bribe as needed)
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A reset for you: playlist, shower, silent scream into a pillow
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A mantra card: “You’re not failing. You’re just maxed out.”
3. Create dopamine anchors
Your kids aren’t bored — they’re dopamine-deprived. You probably are too.
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Morning: movement + noise = happy chaos
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Midday: food + downtime (TV, audiobooks, anything that keeps them still-ish)
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Evening: calming repetition (even if that’s “everyone in the bath and nobody talk to me”)
4. Manage the mess before it breaks you
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Designate mess zones
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Use colour-coded baskets for kid crap
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Clear one surface before bed — future-you will thank you
5. Revisit the invisible labour load
If you’re doing 90% of the thinking, planning, packing, emotional triaging — it’s not sustainable.
Use the holidays to reset the shared load (yes, even if your partner “doesn’t know what needs doing”).
6. Energy mapping > rigid routines
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If your kid turns feral at 3pm, don’t schedule a playdate then.
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If you function best mentally at 10am, protect that window.
Build your day around energy, not clocks. It changes everything.
7. When it all goes to shit (and it will):
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You’re allowed to be annoyed.
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You’re allowed to not love every second.
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You’re still a good mum if you’re just surviving.
This is not about being the “present parent” every minute.
It’s about building a school holiday that works for your brain, your capacity, your needs.
Final reminder:
Your worth is not measured in crafts completed or picnics packed.
Set boundaries. Claim alone time. Let your kids see you rest.
Let them see what it looks like to honour your limits without shame.
Need support?
Grab the $10 School Holidays Sanity Kit, join the Facebook group, or send this to a mate who’s one sibling fight away from booking a one-way flight to Tasmania.
Want to feel less alone in this?
I unpack all of this (and more) in this episode of the ADHD Mums podcast — including what’s helped me stop spiralling and actually enjoy small pockets of the holidays.
