Half-Term Hustle: Where My Money Went and My Peace Left

Every school holiday, we dream of quality time, laughter, bonding moments… and then half-term shows up like a storm with two hungry children, unpredictable weather, and receipts longer than my patience. As a Black mum of a 13-year-old and an 8-year-old, I’m here to keep it real and tell you exactly how it went down. Spoiler alert: it involves trampoline socks, Morleys, and me asking the universe why I’m paying to watch my own kids run wild.


Half-Term Madness: Why I’m Paying to Watch My Own Kids Eat Me Outta House and Home

Let me tell you something: half-term rolls around, and suddenly I’m a personal chef, events coordinator, and walking cash machine—all rolled into one. I’ve got two kids: one 13, one 8. One thinks she’s grown, the other thinks I’m her full-time entertainer. And both of them? Eating like I’ve got a secret Nando’s in my kitchen.

Now I don’t know who decided that school holidays should be this long, but I’d like a word. Because the second school’s out, they’re looking at me like, “Mum, what are we doing today?” Excuse me? I don’t recall signing up to host a two week-long adventure camp.

First of all—activity planning. That right there is spiritual warfare. The teen just wants to scroll TikTok and pretend she doesn’t know me in public. The 8-year-old? She wants to run wild like she’s starring in her own Disney Channel special. And me? I just want to sit down for five minutes without hearing, “Mum, I’m hungry.”

We did bowling—£50 gone in an hour, and the teenager said it was “meh.” Trampoline park? £5 for socks. Socks, Special socks I can’t even use to clean my floors. And why, someone tell me WHY, am I paying to sit there and watch them bounce? I’m not jumping. I’m not playing. I’m literally standing there like security with a handbag. Let me in free and give me a chair at least!

Then there’s the food. Listen. These kids eat like I’m running a buffet. I packed sandwiches, drinks, fruit—trying to be a good mum. What do they say? “Mum, this is boring. Can we get chips?” So now we’re buying overpriced chicken nuggets and juice like I got it like that. One day I caught myself saying, “We got food at home”—and I meant it with my chest.

By day three, I started planning “activities” like watching a movie at home or “helping Mum tidy up” because guess what? I’m tired. Half-term is a hustle, and don’t let Instagram fool you—nobody’s having that much fun. We're just trying to survive without losing our minds or overdrafting the bank account.

Now that half-term is over? Listen—I love my kids, but I was ready for them to go back to school by week one. The house is quieter, the fridge isn’t crying, and my bank account can finally breathe again. We even got a little break when they had a sleepover at Aunty’s house. Free time? Yes. Did I use it to relax? Of course not. I cleaned like I was auditioning for Supernanny. But still—peace and quiet hit different when it’s your own house.

Still, I’ll say this: seeing them happy, hearing them laugh (even when they’re cracking up at something that not funny🤨), it does something to your heart. But next time? I’m starting a GoFundMe just for snacks. And I want a loyalty card for every time I pay to stand around doing nothing but supervising vibes.


Black Mum Half-Term Tip #1: Pack snacks like you’re feeding a youth football team.
Tip #2: “No” is a full sentence.
Tip #3: If they say they’re bored, hand them a mop.




Thanks  for stopping by

Black Muva💋
Location: London, UK

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