We are on a seven week summer vacation, all four of us. It is hard to comprehend, that both E and I get seven weeks of parental leave, each off for one kid (the payoff for scrimping on cash and hoarding our parental leave days, or at least chunks of the 480 we get for each kid).
We have had massive amounts of time off in recent years, and fun to match, but there was always something serious underlying it, whether it be a tough pregnancy or a move across an ocean.
But now we are just a family of four, two parents with a toddler and a baby. We have lots and lots of work, of course, and I should never call this “time off,” but we kind of, sort of know what we are doing now as parents, and we are not moving anywhere.
So now we are, what, four weeks into the vacation, and I have experienced enough for two summers already. With almost three weeks to go! I only had three weeks vacation at my last American job. And I had to negotiate for the third week.
It is like the summer before the seventh grade, without the horrible geeky awkwardness, and without any summer job (those started the summer before the eighth grade). Just time. Here. And there. Boredom and fun. Summer.