I've been doing a bit of networking this summer, and some of the writers I've connect with (or looked at) are students. Many of these had grand plans and goals for all of the writing they were going to do during their free months. I came to realize, once I noticed this theme, that I envy students their summer schedule.
Whether or not they met their goals is moot to my feelings--though I wish them success. But I realized that summer is likely to be my busiest season for the next, oh, seventeen years or so--and that's if I stick with only one kid, which is unlikely.
Firstly, I own a house with a high-maintenance yard so spring and summer are the seasons with the most outdoor chores. Not to mention that I regularly plant a garden, so when the weather is nice, the yard beckons.
Secondly, I am (currently) a stay-at-home-parent so I can't leave my "job" at the office--I can only deposit him at his grandparents' once in a while for a night off. While my son is young, the seasons are mostly identical in terms of level of work, but once he starts school I will have several hours of filial-interruption-free time each day--except in the summer. I'll then be planning trips to the pool, amusement parks, vacations, and whatever else to fill our time while he's at home. Yes, he'll be older and won't demand so much of my time, but the summer will likely still be much busier (for me) than the school year. This is presuming I don't wind up needing to rejoin the rat race in some way.
What this boils down to is that I kind of feel like I squandered the literary potential of my summers when I was still a student. Granted, I was working at the time, but I never really took advantage of the lack of other obligations that summer vacation afforded. So I'm a little envious. I wouldn't give any of it up, but I'm still envious.