The issue with packing, apart from the obvious bother of it all, is that we are not allowed to moan about it. You’re going on holiday, no one is feeling sorry for you.
Apart from me, that is. Because I hate packing and unpacking with a passion. And I’m going to be brave enough to say it out loud. Yes, Baruch Hashem, I go on holiday. But the packing is a pain in the tuchus. So if all that sorting of clothes and deciding who’s wearing what when is getting you down, I’m here for you. It is obviously the boujie-est of all chores, but it remains a chore.
And, yes, I’m grateful when I get a holiday at the end of it, but over the summer we mums do plenty of packing that doesn’t culminate with an Aperol spritz by the pool.
You could rent your holiday wardrobe (Photo: Getty)
I mean, I’m sure we’re all very thankful to BA, LJY, RSY and any other combination of initials that means our kids are occupied by youth group camps for a chunk of the summer, but those packing lists have sent me dizzy.
Am I a bad mum because none of my kids owns a waterproof kagul? Over the years I’ve stuffed many a last-minute anorak purchase into a suitcase but they’ve always come back with the label still on. So this year my kids will be getting wet.
And of course I always spend £3,000,000 in Boots only to realise that they don’t have room for a full first-aid cupboard and spa in their suitcase. But then whittle down the wrong things. This year, the insect repellent didn’t make the cut in my son’s case, only for me to receive an email on day two about a tick infestation in their area.
Then of course there’s the post-camp chaos— towels that have turned into Petri dishes after two weeks festering on dorm floors, the clothes that are “clearly labelled” with someone else’s name and, if you’re really lucky, some empty tuck wrappers thrown in for good measure. One friend doesn’t even allow post-camp cases in the house. They go straight into the garden for industrial fumigation.
Last year, after two of my kids spent two weeks at camp under canvas, neither of their cases even passed their MOT on return — so I had to get a next-day delivery to replace them before heading off on our family trip.
In fact, often this blessing of our kids returning from camp is coupled with the blessing of a family holiday in quick succession. Blessings, blessings all, but blessings that involve a suitcase always come with an element of agony.
So if your kids are still at camp and you have all this to look forward to, or whether you’re knee deep in post-camp organisation and currently wondering whether those trainers will ever lose their stench, I’m sending strength your way. Because I won’t be ashamed any longer.
Yes, holidays and camps are a privilege, but packing is a downright pain. But you keep going. Only 37 more pairs of knickers and pants to find, three pairs of goggles and 15 swimming costumes to go. Just don’t forget to pack that book.
And next year, I’ll see you in Japan.
Naomi's packing tips:
Packing cubes
If you’re not yet a convert, it’s a £14.99 purchase you won’t regret. These simple little pouches to help organise the contents of your case are possibly the best innovation of the century. The iPhone of course being a close second. When my sister was 12 she tried to pack a shelving unit into her camp suitcase. Thankfully the world has moved on and brought us the genius packing cube – available in abundance on Amazon.
A steamer
I always thought a steamer was something people only used on fashion shoots – or at the dry cleaner. How grateful I am that I stumbled across one at Costco a few years ago. It’s come with me on every trip since. I realise this is not a new invention but for the uninitiated – creases gone in 10 seconds flat. No ironing board required.
A bar of soap
Useful in the shower but more importantly the best stain remover – particularly if you’re going somewhere without a washing machine and you don’t want those blobs of chocolate ice-cream to soak in for two weeks.
Once the inevitable blob falls onto that new white top, you should coat the stain with a very slightly damp layer of soap, chuck into your laundry bag and let it do its thing. Not wanting to sound like a Daz ad, but if you throw it into the wash when you’re back home, the stain will lift along with the soap — white t-shirt ready for next holiday’s onslaught.
