It was going to be lonely, and tidy, and quiet, and there wouldn't be any gritty sand on the couch or the floor for three whole weeks. So moved was I by the thought of such sorrow that I rented a bouncy castle.
They came. They bounced, they splashed, they tracked bale-sized globs of wet grass cuttings into my kitchen. I smiled endlessly, knowing the sorrowful silence to come.
When it was over, and the children had gone, I swept the floor and comforted myself with a lovely chilled bottle of Lolailo Sangria, compliments of a daycare mama who clearly knows my needs. I hardly shed a tear.
I could have gone to a party the evening my holidays began, but I decided to only do what I felt like doing in that moment. It was a revolutionary, daring thought. So, I never had that shower, or changed out of my dirty shorts, or found my lipstick. I ate gourmet cheese on crackers, sipped on my sangria, and went to bed at eight. It was divine.
On Saturday, I woke up fully rested at seven AM. I sewed some things (have roughly 900 festivals that I signed up for this summer....). Then I engaged in my most favourite Saturday pleasure: Treasure hunting.
I didn't get the pig doll.
And my partner in crime got all the buttons.
But never you mind, because I got the jackpot of all jacks and pots.
An original chrome, TURQUOISE child's set table and two chairs.
Because I miss the kids so much.
Although, not really. At all, right now.
And that's what I did on my summer vacation. But.... Wait a minute! Technically it's the weekend, and I haven't even STARTED the actual vacation portion, which would technically commence on Monday!
Which reminds me- on Monday, I'm heading off to Clear Lake to meet up with some of my most favouritest in the world friends who I've loved for nineteen years now. We're bringing an assortment of children, wines, cheeses, and chocolates, and maybe a couple of bikes. Then we'll be laughing and playing and sipping. Remembering and looking forward. Celebrating.
I seriously cannot wait.