Single mum, double fun

Are we nearly there?" asks Louis. After two nursery rhyme tapes and three or four rounds of Ten Green Bottles, he nods off.

Tess looks bleakly out at Bodmin Moor. "Look at all those lovely windmills," I enthuse, anxiously eyeing the dark clouds ahead. "I feel sick," she says. "Have you got any sweets?"

We are on the second leg of our 300-mile trip to the Sands Family Resort on the north coast of Cornwall, having broken the journey with a night at granny's in Devon. (More than four hours in the car is too hellish to contemplate.)

A holiday with small children is a challenge for any parent, but as a newly single mother of two under-fives, the prospect fills me with terror. Having had not one uninterrupted night for as long as I can remember, I feel profoundly tired; I am in urgent need of an emergency rescue package to tackle the ruins of my body. Louis (two) is happy anywhere within 10ft of me, while Tess (four) has one requirement: other people her size to play with.

"Wow!" shouts Louis as we round the cliff road at Porth and see the waves crashing on the vast beach below. The hotel looks, appropriately, rather like a hospital. The sun is out and guests - resigned-looking thirtysomethings draped with muslin squares (for wiping baby vomit off shoulders) - are enjoying a lunchtime barbecue. In spite of screaming children careering into tables, the atmosphere is relaxed. People move slowly, talk quietly, smiling, like invalids relieved they are finally getting the treatment they need.

Tess and Louis have never stayed in a hotel. Like animals let out of a zoo they charge along corridors, investigating facilities; the management smile knowingly. Tess is charmed by the seaside decor in our two-bedroom-pool suite and the fact that she can watch telly in bed. She lines her dolls up and tunes into Bananas in Pyjamas, while out on the balcony Louis mixes a "stew" from a packet of hotel sugar and cotton wool balls found in the bathroom.

Slowly, my fears about being alone with my children subside. This is easy: somebody else cooks them wholesome meals, clears their cornflakes off the floor and tidies their bedroom. The only thing now standing between me and my massage is the possibility that one of the little cherubs will refuse to cooperate with the childminding arrangements.

"Do you want to go to the Pirates Club?" I lead Louis into a nursery area where playworkers sit with toddlers glueing paper onto loo rolls. Louis thrusts out his bottom lip and roots himself to the spot: "He not going in." A physical struggle ensues, then a motherly looking childminder asks whether he'd like to join Tess in the older children's Adventure Club. He immediately agrees.

Free at last. The treatments at the Ocean Breeze health suite - a Gold Key Decleor clinic - are exceptional, combined with the unrushed Cornish attitude. It's like being at a real health spa but with a creche. I submit to Ionithermie, full body detox; an Indian head massage, and Decleor face-and-body self-tanning treatment since there isn't a whisker of sun. By the time the masseur has finished with me I'm looking forward to an afternoon excursion á trois.

Cornwall was never like this when I was a child - you just sat on the beach all day and had fish 'n' chips on the last night. Now there aren't enough hours in the day for the activities, from Powerkiting to junior Baywatch programme (run by Sands) and attractions (Lost Gardens of Heligan, Eden Project).

I fail to spot another single parent all week. Not that I feel uncomfortable with the other guests - on the contrary, I view them as fellow travellers. The only time I feel conspicuously alone is in the evening "family dining". I keep checking my mobile phone as if awaiting contact from my globally based husband.

The last afternoon, we don wet suits in the rain and learn about beach safety at Lusty Glaze cove, nearby. Tess is in her element, surfing and rolling her eyes at the young instructor.

Next day, brushing sand off little legs for the last time before heading home, I sigh with nostalgia. I sing along to Noddy for 10 miles of the A30, look round and see both children, knocked out by the sea air, sound asleep.

Way to go

Seven nights at the Sands Resort (01637 872 864) in May cost from £499 half-board for an adult and two under-fives in a two-bedroom suite; from £673 for the June half-term; (currently limited availability). Sands charges no single-parent supplements.

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