This summer was different than most. And it was certainly not the summer I had planned or hoped for.
I worked for half of it, and the other half was spent with two Korean student house guests, and two Chinese student guests / new family members (they will be living with us for the school year). It was also different, because the warm summer weather was delayed, slow, and at times non-existent.
There are things that have been staples in our home and family, that just didn’t happen this summer. Things like daily swims in the pool (we have become wimps … and just do not go in the pool on cool or overcast days), nightly ‘tribal councils’ (we sit out under the stars to the light of the tiki torches, laughing and talking … and texting each other … while only a couple of feet apart), summer school work (I usually give my kids summer school work, to keep their brains engaged over the summer, but working made it hard to find the time … this is something that my kids have NOT missed π … I have never seen them so happy about me working. But, I digress), and a time away for all five of us π¦
The following is a wrap up of my summer:
Days when I did not have to leave the house … ZERO π¦
Days I had morning coffee on the deck … THREE
Days of temperature over thirty degrees … TWO
School lessons taught … ZERO (Mom π¦ … TWEEN kids π )
Nights of ‘tribal council’ … THREE
Books read … ONE HALF (thanks to my flights to and from New Brunswick)
Pool parties … ZERO
Toes dipped into Pacific … ten
Toes dipped into Atlantic … ten
Korean students our family got to host … TWO
Chinese students who have become part of our family (for the whole school year) … TWO
Camps our two youngest attended … THREE
Summer debt accumulated … ZERO (thanks to my summer job). And every minute and hour of it were worth it! I got to work with fantastic people, learned much new information, and got a paycheck.
Was I loving working in the summer all the time? NO! I did have a ‘poor me’ day, where I griped and complained to hubby that I was working my tushie off and would have nothing tangible to show for it. Last week, as we were admiring the brick patio (bricks that we had, largely bought used … transported here, then carried up our mountain of a property) that our friend (who we had hired when it became obvious that we would not have time this summer to complete on our own) laid for us. And hubby instructed me to look at it, and see that my extra working did have something tangible to show for it.
And, it was good.
So, it was a different summer. It was not the one I had planned on having. Working was not what I had wanted to do. But different is not bad, it’s just … different.
Having now been back to work, in a school, for three days, I am confident of one thing … school is not school without the students!
Having spent a week in my childhood home in New Brunswick, this summer on my own, I had ample opportunity to consider what it is that defines the province, and it’s people, for me since I am no longer ‘one of them.’
If you are in New Brunswick (or, really, any province from Ontario east) you will notice bilingualism everywhere. Every sign on the road, every government publication, every service from business to public, is available in both English and French. New Brunswick became Canada’s first (and still only) officially bilingual province in 1969 (a very good year π ). The francophone community makes up about one third of the population of the province, with most being Acadian. But, my knowledge of french, in this bilingual province, is far more commonly known there as franglaise … a little french and a little english combined … it makes understanding both languages so much easier π .
Beginnings are great! A fresh start, a clean slate, a new page. Well, after a two month (well, for me it was more like a two week) break from working in a school, today is back to work … sigh (for those of you who do not work in on a school schedule, I realize that you will be playing your miniature violins, as I whine and complain about the end of summer break. I know the perspectives of non-school workers of those of us who work a school schedule … ‘you work less than eight hours a day,’ ‘you get two weeks off at Christmas,’ ‘you get two weeks off at Spring Break,’ ‘you get two months off in the summer,’ ‘there seems to be a Professional day every month’ and on, and on, and on. I have broad shoulders, I can handle it π But, I digress).
This summer I heard someone say, ‘begin with the end in mind.’ It seemed so simple, yet so profound a statement. It is a statement of understanding goals, consequences, hope and vision. It is a statement that makes me think about what I hope the end to look like.
I was in a shopping mall, doing a little shopping for a few little trinkets to bring home to my kids (okay, trinkets might be the wrong word … it just has connotations of a grandmother who is obsessive compulsive about little ornaments and ‘do-dads’, and her house is littered with them … providing ample opportunity to spend hours each week dusting, polishing and moving from place to place … but, I digress), when, all of a sudden I got an urge to pee (and, anyone who has given birth knows that an urge like that only means one thing … making it to the bathroom on time is like living with a ticking time bomb … never knowing just when, or how cataclysmic the explosion might be).
wearing pants, and the other a dress, I fought to not allow my fear of the unknown get to me. I needed to maintain my composure and dignity, and not go off running through the mall like a maniac, yelling ‘I gotta pee, where do I go to go?’

and cut with a cutter, or glass into round biscuits (or, live on the edge and just cut them into squares, or rectangles, or hearts, or … oh, how my undiagnosed ADD is surfacing now … maybe Pac-Man?). Keep rolling and cutting until all the dough is used. My dad’s ritual includes making a ‘hot dog’ … this is where he takes the last bit of dough (more than the amount for one ‘normal’ biscuit), and forming it into the cylindrical shape of a hot dog. This is the MOST COVETED biscuit in the bunch! It is bigger than the rest, and it is … different! If Dad places the ‘hot dog’ biscuit on your plate … you are the favorite person at that meal!
