| When the nest emptied and daughters made their own arrangements, holidays
became grown up acres of enjoyment with no responsibilities and no arguments over washing
up. I could choose where to go, what to do and who to do it with. However, after some
years of cheerful separation, the girls matured and younger daughter and I experimented
with a holiday together. We went backpacking in Crete. We both paid our way but the idea
and organisation was mine. Daughter carried half my overloaded pack and went ahead in each
place to check out rooms, so it was a kind of arrangement of equals.
 Such conflict as there was, surfaced when we were both tired
and grumpy and needed to make decisions about rooms and restaurants. Between uncomfortable
silences and lots of ‘I don’t mind’, decisions somehow got made.
Only once did we revert to childhood patterns. A wasp arrived on the scene one day and
there was an automatic ‘Mummy, Mummy,’ as daughter flew to me for help. My
response of exasperated protection was no less automatic and we still dine out on the
story.
With experience over several holidays, we have learnt better ways. I shout and she
talks and an easier kind of negotiation takes place.
So how does it work, this relationship that is good enough and grown up enough to
survive a holiday and come out laughing? Kitty, Maggie and I from our various experiences,
have become ‘experts’ in the field of mother/daughter holidays. For a start
it’s not hard for us to agree that a similar sense of humour and shared interests are
fundamental to success.
It pays to know what your offspring regard as interesting and entertaining, perhaps
with their own children. Kitty shares with her son an interest in Charles Rennie
Mackintosh. They also have fun setting all the clocks in a department store to go off at
the same time. If this is not your idea of an amusing afternoon, make yourself clear. Work
out what you would enjoy together.
With her daughter, Kitty can visit museums and galleries and go shopping. Daughter eggs
her on to buy or do things she might not even consider with husband, and she can indulge
in flights of fantasy while people-watching in sidewalk cafes.
Maggie likes a quiet time and feels relaxed and comfortable with her older daughter.
She says they laugh a lot and can sit easily with papers and books without pressure to
talk or race about.
From these observations, I can plan and suggest holidays and activities that cross the
generations. I have the luxury of three children to choose from and holidays with each are
a different experience.
It’s not a bad idea, when planning the holiday, to establish ‘ground
rules’ around sticky issues such as money or mothering. The first time with elder
daughter I suggested this but was told to stop behaving like a social worker. The second
time I managed it more subtly and we discussed food. As our eating habits are wildly
different we habitually need to discuss food.
On a recent trip to Muscat, despite earnest discussion, old habits popped up. I overdid
the ‘do we really need that much food, you know I can’t bear waste’ and
some shouting ensued. But we shared a delight with the special sort of beauty that is Oman
and we are still talking. The secret is to treat them like a friend and ask their opinion
but don’t dictate.
Old habits die hard and resisting the mothering role requires constant vigilance –
from daughter too. Kitty says, ‘I did consciously think I must try hard not to be Mum
and say – are you sure you can afford that, which is something I might do with my own
daughter.’
Daughters like to treat mums occasionally but can mums accept? Maggie sees it as part
of the equalising process. Not having dumped my ingrained need to be the provider, I still
have a way to go in accepting with grace my children’s treats.
Little spats or big rows? By the time holidays with grown-up daughters are a
possibility, we have become pretty set in our ways of disagreeing with each other.
Don’t leave it until you get on the plane to try out new ways of being. Practise
beforehand.
Think about the consequences of sharing a room. Is one of you messy? Does one want to
read at night, the other talk? For me, booking separate rooms is a must. I need my own
space.
What about the daughters you don’t holiday with? Sibling rivalry amongst my three
is mainly absent, although little thoughts do get aired occasionally. They wonder whether
I ‘have more fun’ or find it ‘more restful’ or ‘more
exciting’ with the others, but I don’t let on. I enjoy their unique
contributions and I only have favourites for fifteen minutes.
There is nothing more delightful than a mother and daughter relationship that works
well. And being on neutral territory, it’s altogether different from the ‘coming
home at weekends with the washing’ syndrome. You don’t always get it right, but
if you have both moved on to a new way of being with each other, holidays can be fun
– I promise.
Look out for future features from Heather on mother and daughter relationships
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