The Rebels Have Returned: A Survival Guide for Parents

Just when you were getting used to the sweet silence in the house with no remote fights, no Lego mines on the floor, and no “Mamaaa, he breathed on me!” from the other room – they are back.

The children.

The ones you lovingly offloaded to the grandparents for a few weeks during the winter break, pretending it was about ‘cultural bonding’ and ‘rural roots’ when, really, you just needed to hear your own thoughts for once.

The rebels have returned from Ouma and Oupa’s house – fatter, louder and more opinionated than ever. Grandparents have done what they do best: overfeed, over-pamper and conveniently forget to discipline.

And now you’re stuck reintroducing the concept of rules to tiny humans who spent three weeks eating vetkoek for breakfast and watching WWE at 03h00.

In a rare public appearance, the ever-silent National Welfare Board has officially recognised Post-Holiday Child Re-Entry Distress Syndrome (PHCREDS) as a legitimate parental condition.

In a strongly worded alert, the board urged parents to seek help if they experience symptoms such as spontaneous shouting, hiding in pantries, or threatening to run away with the Wi-Fi router.

“Do not suffer in silence,” the statement reads. “Unless the silence is because the children are asleep – in which case, enjoy it while it lasts.”

This isn’t just school reopening week. This is Post-Holiday Parental Crisis Week. And I offer you tips from one survivor to another:

Problem 1: When Shower Time Turns Into Cold War

Suddenly, everyone wants to shower at 06h45 when school starts at 07h00. The fights are fierce:

“Why must I always be first!?”

“She uses the good towel!”

“The water was hotter when he went in!”

Solution:

Institute a strict Evening Shower Policy. It’s winter. You’re not rationing hot water like at a refugee camp at Osire. Full baths in the evening; mornings are for head, face and other important parts. Set a five-minute timer. When the buzzer goes off, ‘swat’ rules apply – next one kicks the door in. They just woke up, they are not dirty, just smelly.

Problem 2: The Sandwich Situation (aka ‘Sand Witches’)

Little Junior wants to help make lunch packs. Sweet. Until the peanut butter is licked clean with a finger, jam is missing, and the bread looks like it was chewed by a goat.

Solution:

Mix butter, peanut butter and jam in one container like survival rations. Will they complain? Absolutely:

“Ewww, I don’t like it like that!”

Hit them with the sacred mantra: “This is not a restaurant. This is my house, my poverty, my rules.”

Problem 3: The Return of Remote Control Wars

You were watching MacGyver. Now it’s back to:

“I was here first!”

“You watched yesterday!”

Solution:

Assign screen time based on age and emotional stability. The eldest gets the remote Mondays, Wednesdays and odd-numbered Fridays. The one who cried over Uno last night gets meditation time – not TV. Remote fights = 48-hour ban. My children now read cereal boxes like literature.

Problem 4: Grandparents’ House Reprogramming

At Oupa’s house, bedtime is “when the moon is tired” and doing chores is child abuse. Now, they act shocked when you say “wash the dishes”.

Solution:

Re-indoctrination. Gently remind them:

“You were on holiday. Now you’re back to real life, where people bath and brush teeth like functioning humans.”

When they say, “But Ouma lets me . . .”

Reply: “Ouma is not here. Go live at Ouma’s if you want to run your mouth. Nonsense. MXM!”

Problem 5: The Uniform Crisis

Where’s the jersey? Who drew a flamingo on the shirt? Why are the school shoes different sizes?

Solution:

Don’t panic. Begin uniform reconnaissance two days before school starts. Check under beds, couches and inside the car boot. Keep a permanent marker nearby for rebranding ‘borrowed’ items and master the art of ironing with one eye open and a clenched jaw.

Final Tip: Make Peace With Chaos

You’ll shout. You’ll repeat yourself. You’ll fantasise about running away to Swakop to sell dried fish in peace.

But you won’t. Because despite the noise and peanut butter crimes, there’s something beautifully alive about a home full of chaos. It means you’re raising future citizens – loud, stubborn, messy citizens who will hopefully one day visit you … with groceries.

So hang in there, parent. The rebels are back, yes, but so is your sense of purpose. And if all else fails – join me at Parents Anonymous.

Coming soon: Part Two: ‘How to Trick Your Kids Into Believing Cool Aid Sweet is a Vitamin Supplement’.

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