Family, Life, and Roses

While I've been here, I've felt very busy. However, I have gotten quite a bit of thinking done. It's funny how now that I am removed from my day to day life, the people I see all of the time, the places I go, the things I do, I am able to see it all a bit clearer. I think that everyone has all the understanding they will ever need; it's like a reservoir in their heart and mind, and only when they slow down and quit thinking "me, me, me, I, I, I," do they get the opportunity to tap into that reservoir. I've been privileged over the past few years to slowly get more and more understanding. Key word--slowly. I tend to get wrapped up in the things I have to do (like go to work and get good grades so that I can afford...well...life) and fulfil obligations and responsibilities that I don't stop to see what my life is compared to the rest of the word. Today I stopped to smell the roses--literally. At Holland Park there is a beautiful rose garden. I must have smelled thirty flowers. I couldn't help but think as I did it that trite phrase everyone always says. I think its so true, though! If we spend life zooming past all the finer things in life, all the important moments and gifts, we simply lose the opportunity to bask in the wonderfulness that makes up our blessings. The word "blessed" has always had an economic overtone to me. You are "blessed" if you can make your rent. You are "blessed" if you have the money for extra toys and nice things. You are "blessed" if you never have to worry about having food in your cupboards. I think its always been a knowledge in the back of my mind that this isn't so, but it has only been in the last couple of years that it's really been obvious to me. The last few months especially have seen a dramatic rise in my appreciation for my family, siblings especially. They are my best friends and my heros. I was thinking about all of the memories of my childhood, and each one of them centers around one or more of my siblings. I still very vividly remember possibly the one and only real argument I ever had with my big brother. I told him I hated him. I remember him saying, "Is that why we went to the temple to get sealed?" I cried later, and I never argued with him again. To this day, he is one of the people I look up to the most as someone who, while he is very silly, knows what life is about. He is every thing a big brother should be. I could say similar things about all of my siblings; I love them all so much it hurts. It makes me shudder to think how terrible it would be if families weren't together forever; if we hadn't been sealed; if I would lose them after death. Since I have been in London, I have come to appreciate my parents so much more. I started out life with a strong respect for my parents; their word was the law! I only broke it if I knew they wouldn't know...that's all I'll say, I am not in a confessional here ;) But more than that, I respected them as people. I felt like they were always right, even if they weren't. Then I entered the teenage years. They weren't the smoothest years for my family. As every teenager does, I started to doubt the flawlessness of my parents' ways. I considered my knowledge and understanding to equal and in many respects surpass theirs. I still respected them, but I thought I knew enough to take care of myself. I appreciated them for supporting me, both monetarily and in life in general, but I didn't need their advice. I was smarter than that. Well *deep sigh* I have come to learn the folly of my ways since being here. Living with a different family, completely unrelated to my own, has opened my eyes. My parents were the most patient, selfless people in existence, I am sure of it. Chasing around three kids is exhausting. Five must have been impossible. I have already said how fantastic my siblings are; I think that is because of how we were raised. We were raised to value ourselves by our character and how much good we could do, not by how far ahead of everyone else we could get. Which, as I am sadly starting to realize, is how much of the world classifies worth. It's been a somewhat discouraging discovery; I always figured everyone thought the way I thought and valued the things I valued. The other day I helped a man carry his luggage up the stairs in the tube. He was a big, strong guy, and I'm not particularly strong, but I knew I could help so I did. I'm not telling anyone that to say oh look at me, I helped, I'm good, now tell me so! No, no, no. I'm telling that story because I wanted to tell you how good it felt. The look of surprise on his face, the sweet smile he gave me, and the warm goodbye as I rushed on to catch my train completely lifted my spirits (which were drooping a little with homesickness) and made my entire day so fantastic. It was the highlight of my day, with standing three feet from Van Gogh's paintings as a close second. I just think that humanity is doing itself an injustice by being selfish. It is depriving itself of the simplest--yet greatest--joys of life. Anyway, I'm not sure that I really had a point with this post, other than to say that I have done a lot of thinking while being here, and if I get nothing out of this trip other than finally having time to think, it would have been worth it. I've already got more out of it than that, though. I am disproportionately blessed; I don't do near enough good to deserve the people or the circumstances of my life. I know people always thank their family and friends for whatever, but really--thank you. Family especially. I don't say it enough, but just know that I watch and learn from you and I love and appreciate you for the people that you are. That includes Kimball, Caleb, and Dana. All of you. Mom, Dad, brothers, sisters, everyone. You are the most important people in my life and I love you. I LOVE YOU.

PGA and Jane Austen

Well! What a week. Oh my heavens, what a week. Oh my WORD, what a week!! I don't know if I everyone would understand just what this means, but the girls were out of school this week. What a week. I am thoroughly and entirely exhausted, and am SO glad tomorrow is Sunday, and therefore my day off. Of course, living in the same house as the girls doesn't exactly give me the day off entirely. Which is why I go to the park three or four hours before church starts and read... Anyway, despite the fact that it was a much more work-intensive week, it was actually quite a lot of fun. Monday was really...chill. Um, both literally and figuratively. The rain was coming in torrents, and everybody pretty much read or slept or played quietly the whole day. Tuesday the rain let up a bit and the girls had a tennis class at a nearby park. All the other mums dropped their kids off and left; Farran had me stay. At first I was sort of confused. I mean, I was the only adult besides the coaches that was there. I was really glad I stayed though. The coaches were younger guys, a couple of which own the company (Little Foxes Athletic Club or something like that), and they were SO good with the kids. They were patient and clear and a lot of fun. The girls absolutely loved it, especially Coach Neil. Wednesday--let me just tell you--Wednesday, we went on a day trip to the country to visit one of little Maggie's friends at their country house. Was this just any house? Oh--Oh no. This house was the house where the queen's mother was born. This house was built in the 1730s. This house was INCREDIBLE. And the grounds! If I hadn't been a nanny following her family around, if I had had that place to myself for a day...or several...I would have forgotten this is the twentieth century and would have been certain I was Elizabeth Bennett or one of Jane Austen's other heroines. I mean, really. It was ridiculous. I honestly could have spent weeks there and never felt the need to leave. I loved it. It was so nice to be in the country, out of the city. The city is wonderful, but I am not a city girl. I grew up in a small town; small towns are where I am comfortable. I love the open space, the green, the fresh air, the slower pace, the dirt under my fingernails, the freedom of being away from all the people. I think some city people are under the impression that country life is simple and quiant. Maybe so, but I think it is a beautiful and, for me, comfortable way to be. I could go on and on about my passion for being outside and for the small town life, because that is how I grew up. But I won't. I will just say that this house and its grounds were amazing and I loved it more than any of the museums I've been to so far. Thursday the girls were back to tennis and coach Neil, and yesterday we spent the entire day out with Elizabeth, Charlotte's best friend, and her brother, his friend, and their nanny, Adella. Adella is from Slovakia and is absolutely wonderful. She's probably 23 or 24. It's been fun to talk to her. We went to St. James' gardens for a while, then to Holland Park for several hours where we all played endlessly. We played "it" (tag) on the most fantastic spiderweb-esque jungle gym. It was a lot of fun, but my, was it exhausting! Today was some of the same. We went to Holland Park for several hours, this time with their mom. The girls made a cute little friend that they played with almost the entire time, and actually let me sit and rest for a bit! Not for long, though. There was a tire swing they needed pushing, among other tasks. It was a lot of fun. Today was also the third day in a row that we've made snickerdoodles. I've never eaten so many cookies in my life. The only problem was we had no cinnamon. When I asked for it at the grocery store, they looked at me like I was crazy. In fact, most of them didn't even know what I was talking about. The cookies turned out alright, regardless. Oh! I failed to mention last Saturday. Last Saturday I went with Robert, Maggie, and little Farran to the BMW PGA Tournament at Wentworth country club, where the family are members. I remember golf coming on after Saturday morning cartoons and instantly turning off the tv because nothing could possibly be more boring than golf. I was surprised, though, by how intense the tournament was to watch! We walked a good five or so miles around the course, following just one or two pairs of golfers to every hole. It reminded me of when we go to the sheep dog competitions at the end of the summer. Everyone is quiet and it's not really any serious action, but it is enthralling nonetheless. Plus, it was a PGA tournament! Not everyone can say they've been to a PGA tournament, right??

Van Gogh, Pollock, and Dodo Birds

What a week! Before I describe my newest adventures, I will describe the....lack of adventure that was last week. It was still a lovely week, spending lots of down time reading and emailing and such. The weather was rainy and cold, and Farran had several organization projects she wanted to do, and needed my help for. So, we organized the girls' closet, we organized the bathroom closet, we organized little Farran's bookshelf, etc etc. I didn't get out much except for the occasional run to the grocery store or to accompany Farran on some errands she needed to run. That was when the homesickness started to move in. Just being at the house, doing chores and dealing with the girls made me feel like I had really moved here, instead of just coming for a visit. I don't know that I could make a permanent move this far from my family, so I started to miss home quite a lot. This week remedied that! Monday I went out with Farran to run some errands in Kensington. Or maybe it was Notting Hill...I don't really know when one turns into the other. We live in Holland Park. That's our area's name. We ran some errands and went out to lunch. Tuesday, after the girls were at school, I went to Trafalgar Square and the National Gallery. It was incredible; the square was beautiful, the museum amazing. I stood three feet away from the work of people like Caravaggio, Titian, Cezanne, Van Gogh, Monet, and the list goes on. It was a startling experience, to see those paintings up close and personal. A simple 2 X 2 picture in a book simply does not do them any justice. In fact, its almost an injustice to fail so miserably in recreating how spectacular they are! My favorites were the impressionists and post impressionists. Those paintings were positively entrancing. I wish I could have taken pictures of them. I bought postcards of them instead. The next day, little Farran was "sick." It's so hard to tell with these girls because they will say anything if they think it will get them what they want. Regardless, little Farran stayed home. Around one o'clock she was feeling better, so I took her to Holland Park and we got some ice cream and played at the playground. After that, we caught a bus to the top of Exhibition Road where we walked down to the Natural History Museum. Farran wanted to go to the Science Museum, but I convinced her to just see if she liked the Natural History Museum first. We were there for a good three hours, which, for an eight-year-old, is a long time! I didn't really have to drag her away, but I did have to do some convincing. It was fun to see her get excited about the things in that amazing place. Yesterday, after the girls were at school, I took the tube to the Tate Modern museum. I'm not a huge modernist lover, but I definately appreciate most of it. That was another incredible museum. Once again, I stood three feet, or less, from the amazing work of Picasso, Pollock, Braque, Duchamp, and other spectacular artists. Today is Friday, which means it is an early day, but I am still holding out hope that I can go for another explore. Perhaps this time I will try for the Globe Theater.

Important Lessons in Life

I may not have successfully taught these girls patience, respect, responsibility, charity, or gratitude yet, but there is one thing I have successfully taught them to do....

Rain, Rain Go Away

The weather here was absolutely beautiful--up until a few days ago when it turned rather nasty. I mean, really, we had sunshine, warmth, a cool but pleasant breeze--we went out to the park down the street every day! Sigh. Now it is cold and wet and windy. Now, normally, I quite enjoy the overcast, rainy weather. However, I've never had three little crazies to deal with all afternoon. It's so much easier to take them to the garden and set them loose on each other; they entertain themselves for hours out there! But when they are stuck inside...sigh. Life gets difficult. Anyway, I decided I would write somewhat about my day to day doings here. I mean, I'll be writing the highlights and the adventures, of course, but there's more to it than that. I've been living with a family very different from my own, and its been challenging/tons of fun adapting and learning about different dynamics and relationships. I think it is important to see other ways of life; it helps you figure out how you want your own to be. Being here has shown me alot about what I do want to do with my family and what I don't want to do. Future family, that is. Other trips I have been on have taught me to be grateful for what I have materialistically; this trip has taught me to be grateful for what I have spiritually, socially, and mentally. This family really is great; they are just different from my own. Their lifestyle is so different from what I'm used to. The other day, the Farran got upset because the girls were tossing around a hair brush. "Don't do that! It's a $150 brush!" she said. Then, she was sorting out the towels in the bathroom with me, and said, "Oh, those ones are the blahblahblah (some designer's name) towels I got in Italy for $300 on my honeymoon. We'll put them in the back." I mean really, who lives like that? It's absurd. Did I mention that the house across the street sold for $10.5 million just before I got here? Sigh. I'll be grateful to get back to my Target and Smiths and Sam's Club. I'm much more comfortable using $10 towels and $5 hairbrushes. Anyway, the girls are...how shall I put this...less than warm to me in the morning, so I don't do much, because they simply refuse to accept my help. I get breakfast and clean up and make sure their bookbags are together. I do their hair, especially little Farran's. Maggie is the one that is particularly volitile in the morning. Charlotte is a toss-up; she's either really sweet and cute, or just as bad or worse than Maggie. Then, I have most of the day to either do laundry and other chores, or, when I'm lucky, go exploring! The girls get picked up at 5 o'clock three days of the week and 3:30 the other two days (Tuesday and Friday). Depending on when they get out of school, they may have a play date, which either means I have one less charge or one more. I like play dates; they are distracted when they have friends over. It sounds like I don't like these girls...I really do, I promise. Most of the time we have fun and they are sweet and its wonderful. But a good part of the time they are little devils and I can't do anything with them and they break rules and say that I'm not Mommy so they don't have to listen to me when I say they are in trouble, etc etc. Three of them with that attitude gets exhausting really fast. When one is like that...the others follow suit pretty quickly. Anyway, I really do like it here, I promise! It's a fun little neighborhood; Holland Park is a short walk away, as is the grocery store, the tube station, the boulangerie (bread store), and just about everything else we would ever need. Anything that is not within a five or ten minute walk is within a fifteen or twenty minute walk. It is a wonderful life here.

Lost! 5/13/08

Today I got lost for the first time. I was trying to get to Trafalgar Square and the National Gallery, but the bus I got on switched destinations on me! I try to take the bus so I don’t feel like a groundhog, never really seeing where I was going, just popping up out of the tube in one place, then another. However, that bus let me off somewhere completely different than I expected. I stood there, people rushing past me in both directions, having no clue whatsoever where I was. I pulled out my wonderful London book that my roommate, Emily, gave to me, and tried to find where I was on the maps in the back. A bit flustered and still hoping to make it to the square in time to look around before having to be back for the girls, I started walking in the direction I hoped was right. I kept walking, and nothing looked landmark-y enough to be on my maps. Finally, I saw a Subway and went in, got a sandwich, and sat down. I decided that my best bet would be to try for the British Museum instead. From what I could tell, I was closer to that than the square. The problem still remained that I had very little clue as to where I was, and therefore did not know how to get to the museum. So, I hailed a cab (okay, not really, it was parked just outside Subway) and told him to take me to the British Museum. The ride was at least fifteen minutes long. Something must have been going on because traffic was ridiculous. I think that is partly why the bus dumped us; something had happened somewhere. After paying the cab driver 12 pounds (approx. $24. Sigh.) I got out in front of the museum. It was quite a site; I wanted to cry when I looked at my watch and realized that I would have less than an hour in there. So, instead of subjecting myself to the torture of ripping myself away from the galleries, I decided to find the tube station and go home and relax for as long as I could before the girls needed to be picked up. I had never taken the tube before. I walked for about five or ten minutes to the station, wandered around until I found the right line and platform, and got on. I think maybe I should stick to the tube from now on. They don’t change where they go. I got off at the station that is about five minutes from the house, went to the Tesco (the local grocery store) and got a four dollar bottle of cranberry raspberry smoothie because I was tired, had a headache from being in the city, and needed some comfort. Four dollars for about eight ounces. I am definitely NOT a city girl. Don’t worry, my thirst for adventure in the big city of London has not been quenched by this one little mishap. In fact, in all honesty, it was probably not so bad for me to get lost. It gave me practice using both the taxis and the tube, and I know exactly how to get to the British Museum now. We’ll see tomorrow if I can find Trafalgar Square and the National Gallery…

Adventures Thus Far (5/8-5/11)

I keep forgetting that I will be here for quite a few weeks, so I’ve been trying to go out every single day. My first day, however, I slept off jet lag and got somewhat settled into the house. I don’t think I will ever be one hundred percent at home here, simply because it isn’t my space and I am a guest. Still, it’s a thousand times better than a hotel! On Thursday, I went to Holland Park, which is just down the street from us. It is a relatively small park. It’s probably not a whole lot bigger than Barnes Park, including all the ball parks and everything, back home. However, it is ridiculously gorgeous. The paths are lined with trees and woodlands. Many of the trees are blooming and have beautiful blossoms. Flowers are out, and everything is green. I love green. There is also a small café, two open fields, a playground, AND—a dog toilet. I quite enjoy Holland Park. I think it will be one of the places I visit regularly. On Friday, I walked to Kensington Gardens. The little street I live on is quiet, and even Holland Park Avenue, the biggest road nearby, is green and cool and while busy, not insane. The sidewalks aren’t crowded, and it is pleasant to walk down. However, at the top of the hill, it turns into a city. The trees are gone, its dirty, noisy, crowded, and not nearly as pleasant. The walk to Kensington Gardens goes up the hill to this part of town, and down a bit more, totaling about fifteen minutes of walking, maybe a few more. The Gardens are beautiful. It is not as wooded as Holland Park, but there are loads of trees and flowers. The Princess Diana Memorial Playground looks spectacular! There are teepees, pirate ships, sea monsters, sandboxes, boats, and so much more. I saw Kensington Palace and its beautiful gardens and orangery, I saw the Peter Pan statue, which was neat because I love Peter Pan, I saw the Italian Fountains, which were pretty but smelled funny. I think it was all the ducks. While I was there, I ran into the missionaries. Well, okay, the truth is I chased them down, more or less. I talked to them for a minute, got directions to the church, meeting times, and their phone number in case I needed anything or got lost. On Saturday, the girls had a golf lesson, so I went out again. I decided to go to the Science Museum, since the elders told me the church was right across the street from it. I wanted to find the church before trying to make it there on Sunday. I found both, plus the Natural History Museum and the Victoria and Albert Museum, all in the same spot. I only had time to go into the Science Museum, however. The others are for another day. Sunday I went to church, but the ward I went to ended up being the family ward. They were fantastic and so, so nice, but I think I will go to the singles’ ward next week since I have a friend there. It was nice to be somewhere that felt familiar. I can see those first twinges of homesickness on the horizon…

A New Town

Well, I’ve been in London for almost a week now. My, what a week! It’s been full of new things, new people, new places, new challenges, new food, new everything! Well, alright, not everything. Besides the accents, which are harder to understand than I ever noticed, the language is the same. To start, I suppose I should explain just what I am doing in London. Several years ago, my aunt Sue suggested that I look into being an au pair (nanny) and gave me a great website to look at (http://www.greataupair.com/). I was too young at the time to actually get a job anywhere, so I didn’t take it too seriously until more recently. In December, Farran emailed me and we started to work it out for me to come to London in May. She has three beautiful girls—Margaret and Charlotte, who are twin seven-year-olds, and Farran, her eight-year-old named after her. I came to London to work for her and her husband, Robert, taking care of the girls. I left Utah on Monday, May 5th. I flew into Chicago and had plenty of time to find my terminal and get my seat changed to a window seat, which I was very glad I did. The flight was about seven or eight hours. I’ve done longer—much longer—but it was so nice to have something to lean my head against. An extra plus—the seat next to me was empty so I got to sprawl out on two seats for the price of one! I got into Heathrow at about ten in the morning. I found the driver Farran sent for me, and we headed towards what will be home for the next two months. It was somewhat disconcerting to drive on the wrong side of the freeway, and when left turns didn’t cross any traffic, but right turns did, I thought I was going to have a fit. My brain is switching over, though, and I’m getting used to looking the other direction when crossing the road. Today (Sunday), when I saw a car that had the driver on the left side, it looked really strange to me. I live on a small, quiet street in Kensington. There’s a beautiful little cathedral-esque church at the end of the street. The house is beautiful; it’s small, like everything here, and is more vertical than horizontal. I live on the bottom floor and have a window that looks out into the petite but beautiful garden. My room is lovely, and the bed is the most comfortable bed I have ever slept on. At least, it feels that way after the pitiful excuse for a mattress I had at school this past semester. I mentioned earlier that the accents are harder to understand than I expected. I think it’s the accents combined with the different vocabulary. There were some young guys over working on the gas meter at the house my first day here and the one asked me if I was on holiday here. In response to my blank stare and “pardon?” he laughed and said “are you here on vacation?” I knew what holiday meant, but the accent took me by surprise! I have to listen a lot more carefully when I talk to people. The funny thing is that I have met just as many people from America, Germany, Italy, and other countries as I have English people! I knew London was diverse, but it really, really is diverse. That is something I haven’t really experienced, and I’ve enjoyed it quite a lot. Farran has been fantastic. I feel like I by far have the best part of this deal, because she flew me over here, I’m staying in their house, eating their food, and getting paid! I help the girls in the morning with their hair and breakfast, as well as getting them to school (which is about a two minute walk down the street). After school, I help with whatever homework they have, dinner, getting ready for and getting in bed. I read stories, brush hair, tidy things now and then—the usual duties of a nanny. During the day, from about nine o’clock to about four o’clock, (some days its earlier, some days later) I have time to do whatever I would like to do. I am in charge of the girls’ laundry, which is my only real duty while they are at school, but other than that, it’s my time. The girls can be challenging, and usually are, but they are sweet and we have a lot of fun. Basically, I can’t think of anything that would make this set up any better. I feel bad, actually, because Farran is giving me this fantastic experience, and is constantly making sure that I am okay and having fun and feeling good, and all I do is give her kids my time for a few hours every day. I am hoping I can be good enough at what I do here to help myself feel like I’ve earned it in the least.

Take That

Well, I am working on some posts about my time in London so far, but they take lots of time, and I just thought you all should know just how hard I have it here. So, almost every woman I see is thin and fashionable. Now, I am not large, but my hips and thighs aren't exactly easy to miss. Plus, almost my entire wardrobe is hand-me-downs (I always called them handy-downs, and was just recently informed that that is incorrect...) and tee-shirts--not quite London chique. So, what do I do to comfort myself and make myself feel better? Go for a run? Actually spend time on my hair? Snack on an apple? Um......not quite. No, to sooth my sorrows, I find a lovely little corner patisserie and buy a ginormous eclair with chocolate creme filling, smothered in chocolate sauce. I take it home, and lounging in my bed, I eat like someone who has never eaten. My fingers, my face, and the inside of my stomach are absolutely coated in wonderful chocolate deliciousness, and I think to myself, "They may have slim legs and pretty faces, but they do not know the pure delight of heavenly pastries." So take that. I wish now I would have taken a picture of it, but that wasn't exactly on my mind at the time. ... I just thought you should know.