Although today is technically the first day of summer Switzerland has apparently decided to forgo the season this year. For the I'm guessing millionth (or so it seems) day in a row it has been rainy, overcast and cold. There have been some days where, for a couple of hours, the sun has poked through and I've been able to wear shorts, but for the most part it has been back to my SAD ways.
This also has to do with the Kids being on summer vacation, and the inability to take them to the pool. Summer vacation last year was the bane of my existence (I didn't have a lot going on, alright?). When I interviewed with The Family they assured me that the kids were either in school all day or at summer camp all day. They had camp the first week of the summer last year and then they gave them the option to either go to camp or stay with me which was aggravating, to say the least. For the next two weeks though they are in camp from 9-12 which is great, but the rainy weather forecast pretty much makes us housebound for the rest of the week. Add that to the combination of The Father going on a two-week sailing trip and The Mother being back and forth between here and Paris for work all week and you get one exasperated au pair. I'm doing the forehead slap, kicking myself and any other expression or turn of phrase to mock induce bodily harm at my own stupidity for agreeing to stay an extra two weeks (especially in light of current events that I promise to inform you all once they are more finalized). And, The Parents just told me this morning that for my last week of servitude I will be back in "The French Frat House" for a week with the kids and her extended family. (With the addition of two more children, their cousins, whom she said she could just leave under the supervision of their father, "but he doesn't watch them very closely.") The only saving grace is knowing that Kristina will be serving her indentured servitude in Neuchâtel during that time and we can border hop to see one another to preserve our dwindling sanity.
And to further highlight why summer vacation is all the more painful, take last Friday, the first day of summer break. Thursday afternoon I invited British Boy over for a playdate with Boy. Playdates are wonderful for me because I can generally just ignore the kids and they keep to themselves. Thursday night Paul's Best Friend's mom called to ask if he could come over tomorrow because their babysitter canceled. I agreed because she was in a bind, and I'm more or less a pushover. The Mother was still on a business trip to France and The Father had an early morning meeting so he left at 7:45. We played, did errands, had four children in the house (still managed to watch the USA game), played in the park, bathed the kids, fed them, cleaned the kitchen et cetera. My friends were sending me messages around 7pm about when I could come out and I replied that I really had no idea. The Father calls at 7:15 saying he had to run an errand on the way home and since he was already out he might as well just go pick up The Mother at the airport at 7:45 and he'd be home at 8:30. At 8:45 the parents roll in (literally 13 hours of work!). I sprang from the couch (after having to push The Girl off to go say hi to her mother who she hadn't seen since Tuesday) and out the door to meet my friends.
I told Kristina the little mantra I've been repeating to myself for the last couple of days to get me through the next six weeks: "Two weeks on, two weeks off [in Greece!], two weeks on, lifetime off." I can do it!
My friend Danielle stayed at my hostel in Santorini and said it it right on the black beach: (Insert me into this picture in 2.5 weeks)