Only a few more weekends until it "officially" ends.
I spent the last two weekends away from the city--working, reading, cat napping, waking up at 5am, then 6am, then 6:15am and, finally, 6:30 before dragging myself out of bed and putting on the TV for the kids I was nannying for. Sleeping with a kid in your bed is hard!
I started the Mad Men series on Netflix, a great book called The Ni.gh.t C.i.r.cus that I am really enjoying a lot and watched the same Carebears DVD 653 times. I sang songs, caught kids as they jumped off pool's edge with an exhilarating leap and ate my weight in Goldfish crackers, strawberries, cheese, and salt and vinegar potato chips (the last of which I am thoroughly addicted to.)
I took the Monday morning 6:20 bus back to the city with all the finance husbands, crashed in bed Monday night, squeezed in a happy hour for my alma mater's NYC chapter, didn't grocery shop, neglected my gym membership, ate pizza instead, and did the weekend all over again.
I thought less, breathed more, cared not a whit, well maybe a momentary bit, and told myself I'd return to paradise again--more on my terms.
I vowed never to have four children under the age of five. Never to have four children period. I turned back the biological clock about five more years.
I returned to the city, went to work, contemplated my bank account, honored my savings, planned beach trips and fireworks...
all for the rest of the summer.