I adore a family holiday. I love the anticipation and those first few glorious days when nobody needs a PE kit by 8.15 a.m. Yet I’ve also arrived at a hotel or villa feeling as though I’ve personally transported the entire household there using nothing but five suitcases and my nervous system. I may be physically away from home, but my brain is still checking passports and wondering whether everyone has applied enough suncream. So, does a holiday really lighten the mental load, or simply give it a better view?

The work starts long before take-off

As I’ve written before, the mental load of a mother is not just about completing jobs. It’s the constant anticipating, remembering and preventing. A 2025 University of Bath-led study of parents found that mothers reported 67% more household management than fathers – even when their employment or earnings increase. That will resonate with many, because going away doesn’tt automatically close the mental tabs. If I am forced to micromanage my kids, make every list and answer every question, I haven’t escaped family administration, only merely moved its headquarters somewhere sunnier.

Fewer decisions help

There are very good reasons why all-inclusive holidays can make family travel feel more manageable. When flights, accommodation, meals, local drinks and airport transfers are all included, that’s a lot of tasks already sorted, and having the essentials bundled can remove dozens of daily choices. When I’m already fielding one child’s buffet analysis and another’s urgent need to know the Wi-Fi password – that can be the difference maker.

Yet convenience is not the same as fairness. A package can organise the practical elements of a trip, but it cannot magically make another adult notice that the suncream is nearly empty or remind a teenager to charge their phone before an excursion. The format can create breathing space but the family must decide who gets to breathe.

Older children can own more than their hand luggage

School-age children and teenagers are perfectly capable of carrying meaningful responsibility, although I sometimes sabotage this by stepping in because doing it myself feels quicker. Before a trip, I now prefer ownership over vague requests to “help”. A younger child can pack from a simple list, choose two books and keep their headphones and water bottle together. A teenager can plan their clothes, manage their chargers and download entertainment for the journey. If they forget a non-essential item, that is inconvenient, not catastrophic – and possibly more memorable than my seventeenth reminder. Another adult, where applicable, can own online check-in, insurance documents or airport transport from start to finish. 

Ownership means noticing, planning and completing the task, not waiting for me to delegate every step. It also gives older children the independence they increasingly need; this post on children’s emotional wellbeing looks at the importance of listening, communication and helping teenagers develop resilience, if you’d like a read!

Rest needs to be agreed

I used to imagine that rest would simply happen once we arrived. In reality, unclaimed time is very quickly swallowed by everybody else’s plans. Now I think that actual downtime needs the same respect as an excursion.

Before travelling, I want a conversation about spending money, meal expectations, screen use and how each person will get some time alone. Perhaps one adult has a slow morning while the other takes the children to the pool, then they swap. Perhaps teenagers are trusted to enjoy a supervised resort activity without requiring me to sit nearby “just in case”.

I also need to resist being the family’s human search engine. “What time is dinner?”, “Where are my goggles?” and “What are we doing tomorrow?” can be answered by the hotel information, the person who last used the goggles or a shared plan everyone helped create. If I remain the single source of all knowledge, I remain on duty – even from a sun lounger.