London Southern Belle

Happiness

Several weeks ago, I mentioned how being away from my family, especially my sweet niece can be difficult. The fear that she doesn't know me, that I am not a good aunt across the miles brings thoughts of sadness.

Those thoughts were quickly revived a few days ago when I received these photos of her...

How adorable is she? :)

These photos made me incredibly happy. Somehow, she knows she has an aunt and uncle far, far away that care for her immensely.I have to believe that. And, judging by these photos, she seems to like her princess castle we mailed for her birthday. I knew she would :) My kind of girl. :)

Missing home

I cannot think of anything (apart from lack of sunshine) that makes me miss my hometown more when there are upcoming celebrations. Especially, celebrations that include my immediate family. My niece is turning 3 this month and the fact that I have not been near to see her grow into a lovely little girl. The only time I have laid eyes on her was when she was six months old and what a perfect little being she was. The day I was to fly back to England, I cried as I kissed her head and waved goodbye. There she sat, perched in her her baby einstein discover and play entertainer, happily watching cartoons. I was saddened by thoughts of not knowing when I would see her again, not playing auntie Amanda with organized trips to the park, last minute babysitting as her mom and dad go out to dinners, teaching her to make origami, to bake our family tradition of Christmas cookies and how to fly a kite. It saddens me that I have only seen her once. I fear she doesn't know me.

With the distance crippling my auntie duties, I do what I can to show our love for her despite the miles. With her birthday vastly approaching, I managed to find this adorable pop up princess castle. I just know she will love it if she even has a hint of her auntie in her. I also found some lovely 'Happy Birthday' bunting for added affect. I've included the photo above in her birthday card for facial recognitions sake. I just want her to know who we are which is so important that she know she has an aunt and uncle that love her dearly... Luckily, handsome man o' mine and the cats played along. :)

Happy Birthday my sweet niece.

My life. My dreams. Our journey.

We are four months shy of a year passing since the day handsome man o’ mine and I decided to add to our family of two by adopting a child. The day we decided to add to our family of two is incredibly vivid and the emotions of excitement and nervousness nearly overcome my soul as I attempt to put those feelings into writing.   We just knew that we were ready to become parents. Knowing how we would overcome infertility to make this happen has always been uncertain – it is the words “faith” and “just try” that play in my mind the most. 

Already, this has been such a long journey. I first embarked when I found out at what I thought was the ripe age of seventeen that I would not be able to conceive a child. Most girls of my age were sketching future names of children in their diaries while I was simply realising the cause of my extreme night sweats. I never thought I would understand the menopausal conversations of women three times my age were engaging in over coffee. I winced as boyfriends that fantasised of strapping young lads to carry on the family name. In my heart, I held a breaking secret – a secret that I felt would hinder most relationships throughout my young adult life --Relationships with men that looked forward to a child ‘carrying the family name’.  Handsome man ‘o mine never batted an eyelash at the news of my disappointment. His thoughtful encouragement shone through from the very beginning. He has been my ray of light through this battle.  It is the one thing that keeps my spirits high and gives me hope from day to day. He is the one reason why I have come to realise that our lives together and everything that encompasses our lives together is not just special—it is ours. No matter the obstacles we face - we do it together.

The point we have reached in our own relationship has never been an easy journey. We work for every step we take and have come to expect that everything comes with a price. That is no different with starting a family of our own. Ten months ago, we felt adoption was the right way forward in making our dream a reality. However, that journey has ended for us. There is heartache and numbness but a certain peace has found its way to my heart. There is still a glimpse of hope.  So many factors play into our decision and factors contributing that are out of our control but as a friend whispered to me on yesterday,   

“Only you two can make that decision. The one that is right for you two,” 

The decision to add to our family the way we most feel comfortable; the way that is meant for us. I now look back to years of my own fertility treatment research and we make final decisions of where and when it will all take place. It is a must. We must 'just try.' Due to my condition (Premature Ovarian Failure or sometimes referred to Premature Menopause) my ovaries do not produce eggs therefore; an egg donor is necessary. A law has been passed in the UK that egg donors are no longer anonymous causing the waiting list for a donor to be nearly five years.   

We are taking recommendations from two friends that have experienced IVF treatment with an egg donor in Valencia, Spain using fertility clinic IVI. There are no waiting lists (unless the couple seeks a blonde hair, blue eyed donor) and after the first assessment, the procedure occurs almost immediately.  The clincher is costs. Like adoption in the USA, it is very expensive and we will have to come up with a very large lump sum for the procedure. There are no doubts in our minds that it will be worth every penny –yet, as expected – it is all quite daunting. 

For now, we take this one day at a time. Pray relentlessly and try to focus on life until the time comes for treatment. We will ‘pinch pennies’ and research pros and cons in order to prepare ourselves the best we can.   

I cannot help but think that starting a family shouldn’t be this hard but at the same time, I try to stay strong knowing that at some point, somehow we will have a family.   

Someday. Until then, the excitement of becoming a mother subsides and we wait. 

 

1957

This evening, Darren and I had the pleasure of celebrating an important milestone in a special person's life. That special person being my very own mother who flew by plane to England from America (on her own, which is a huge accomplishment for this once anxious traveller).

We have had such a splendid week with her here and tonight was literally the icing on the cake - a very sweet moment shared this evening. I can hardly put it all into words.

Happy 50th Birthday, Mommy.  You  have made such a difference in my life and deserve a celebration of life fit for a Queen. (I can only hope I look as young as you do at 50!)

May you have many years of adventure, happiness and success in the future. We love you.

Travel Overload

Ok, not complete travel overload but certainly no travelling for this gal until I catch up on my winks, have one heck 'ova pedicure and finish the huge pile of laundry handsome man o' mine and I have accumulated.

My parents made their way to the UK and the reunion was ever so sweet. And, it has been spectacular since that moment. Showing my parents my new life has been exciting. Even more so to see their faces light up when experiencing something new. My father has never been one to show excitement -- that is no longer the case. He took more photographs during his journey than I have during the entire time I have lived in England. On yesterday as our train left London in the distance, I glanced over to my father to see him waving goodbye to the city while smiling. It is my favorite memory of him thus far.

Paris. was. spectacular. No matter how many times I visit Paris, I fall in love with it all over again each time. And, to give my parents Paris was beautiful. Our rooms overlooking the Eiffel tower were picture perfect and breathtaking. I shall never forget checking on my parents as they settled into their boutique hotel room. "How is the view, Mom?" I asked as I opened the french windows wide. And there it stood --the Eiffel tower, standing tall as ever -- such a glorious sight that tears rolled down my mother's face. Finally, at the age of 50, she was given Paris.

I have stories to share and photographs to upload all in due course! After they leave early tomorrow morning all shall be revealed!

Bittersweet

Oh sweet January, where have you gone? It has been a new start to the year and a celebration of a life that is mine on tomorrow and an end to another – the grandmother of sweet man o’ mine. She will be missed dearly.

Life can be ever so bittersweet. The meeting of perfect people in the world can go as easy as they come just as the blanket of snow that covered our window ledges on a sleepy Monday morning. After a weekend of tears of bereavement, the excitement of a soft white blanket covering the lifeless winter-y earth warmed our hearts. It made all things beautiful and for a moment we were gently reminded of all that is ours.

Twenty-seven years of my passing life and so much to be thankful for. And, everything I planned in my early twenties hasn’t necessarily panned out to perfection yet, I have no complaints with the changes I had not foreseen. I always knew my life would be a journey and living it has been the best aspect. The realisation of how proud I am to live this journey is indescribable.

Yesterday, handsome man o’ mine and I had plans to find a hotel centrally located for my parents to stay in during part of their stay here in the UK during Easter. We discovered the sleekest and modern hotel of clean lines, pressed linens, oversized bulky woods softened with breezy drapes & dainty side table lamps – an absolute dream homing loft and townhouse rooms with outside architecture to die for. I cannot wait for them to see it. We then visited the busy market of meat, fruit and vegetable sellers. I was inspired to buy fresh basil, bread, pomegranates and tulips. Cold air, winter coats and scarves aside, I could feel spring in the air.

One fresh pomegranate later handsome man o’mine and I were sitting in the local Mercedes & Smart Dealership trading in our gorgeous two-seater sports car for a more practical one. Handsome man o’mine laughed over stories of new driving experiences for me in our tiny matchbox on wheels, conquering roundabouts and dodging double-decker buses. A bittersweet moment and a start to a new chapter, a new journey and new experiences – we signed papers, clutched one another’s hand and smiled quietly. We thought of times to come…

And so, tomorrow marks a new year to my life …the 28^th year. And for once, my birthday wish will not be a wish for myself….but for my family. My family.

A very rich life

This past weekend, handsome man of mine and I helped my mother in-law clear out her mother's three bedroom home. Several months ago, Nan had several strokes and was placed into care and has not been able to return to her home since. We all knew this huge task would need to be done sooner or later and eventually a date to hand over the keys to Nan's home was set. For tomorrow. Naturally, procrastination got the better of us all and we did not tackle the task until the weekend before. Probably not the best of ideas, if I do say so myself.

I am a "get in there and get it done" type of person. I pack, move and set up a home as if I have lived there for several years and it only takes me a day to accomplish this. No tea breaks, no chat, no excuses. Such a task is over-organised and finished with time to spare. It's how I work. It drives most insane, but it is what I do. It must be done this way, or I would be a mess otherwise. To me organisation and time management means less stress and a smooth transition. Unfortunately for me, not all see it this way.

Stepping in her home is like stepping back in time. Nothing has changed since she moved in over fifty years ago. The wallpaper, retro and peeling. No shiny counter-tops and stainless steel appliances. Yet, it was full of character, full of life, despite the stillness. And while I was anxious to get  the "job" done, I realised something.

This was not my grandmother's home.

I would not be able to bring myself to throw out my family's belongings. I would not be able to do it. I know this truth. I had to sympathise with what handsome man of mine was going through. I sat back while he and his mother read through old letters written to his grandmother by his grandfather while he was away at war. I listened while they laughed at family photos, tried to figure out why there were so many keys lying around the house, read diary entries of how my husband's grandfather went shooting with Princess Anne and reminisced about presents given long ago that still exist on untouched bookshelves. It was a grieving process for them. The memory of a home that my mother in-law grew up in, my husband lived in the first year of his life, and a home they continued to build memories in for years to come. I had to respect that and therefore set my lack of control and organsation tactics aside and never once thought about how long it may take to finish this task.

Throwing out someone else's belongings is a difficult task. Rummaging through bird watching books, 1935 Singer Sewing Machines, bundles of yarn and knitting needles, bulky mixing bowls, dusty boxes of puzzles and war paraphernalia. I moved them carefully, asking family members, "keep or throw?" and sadly most things were thrown away. The thought of my belongings, everything that represented me, being tossed into a rain filled skip pulled on my heart strings. Halfway through the process my mother in-law and I stood in the front porch staring at the large skip filled to the brim with Nan's "things." Our eyes glazed over, rain pouring, my mother in-law says, "Over 50 years of life in this home and absolutely nothing to show for it....."  It was such a sad statement to hear, but was it accurate?

I couldn't help but reflect on how material items do not represent people. Or at least they shouldn't. Handsome man of mine's grandmother is a kind woman. She has a sense of humor. Judging by the amount of trophies we threw out, she was a fantastic dancer. She knitted; not scarves with missed stitches, but beautiful jumpers (Brit speak for sweaters) and dresses with tiny patterns. She made clothes for handsome man of mine's action men figures. Half finished ones were found and they reeked with love, effort and time. She loved her family and while she did not own nice things, she was content with her life and what she had. I adore that quality. And with those little discoveries, richness was revealed in big ways. She did in fact live a very rich life.

All things shiny & new

Christmas morning. Father Christmas paid us a visit and had eaten every last bit of his mince pie and would you believe it - Rudolph loved his carrot! Filled with sentimental tears, smiles all 'round, love to & from those I love and so much more we had the most splendid time. As my third Christmas spent in Brit-land as wife to handsome man of mine, I continue to marvel in all things English during such times. I revel in the holiday cheer my English family possesses. They acquire such a contagious realm of happiness so uncontainable they can hardly sit still. I remember my grandfather once paying my brother and I in crisp dollar bills for every minute we could sit in a chair and not move. I suppose I always had a bit of my family-to-be hidden deep within, even as a child. Christmas time merely makes me squirm. I love everything about it.

Our tiny two-seater European sports hairdryer on wheels car barely had enough room for two passengers due to piles of delicately wrapped presents. When I go shopping in this car, I am lucky if I can fit two new boxes of shoes in the trunk boot. (yes, it is called a boot! And, I am not talking Nine West boots either!) We went completely overboard, which is something we deny doing yearly, say we will never do again, and repeat this act the following year. The over-spending for others is like clockwork each winter.  And, I don't see this changing; not even in the slightest. In fact, we secretly would not have it any other way even if it results in the two of us living off of one of the splendid cheaper British delicacies, beans on toast.  As handsome man of mine would put it, cheap & cheerful yet, much more scrummy than a £4 scarf of rainbow scarf from the local high street after Christmas sales.

Ah, which brings me to another point. After Christmas sales, which aren't at all the day after Christmas. The day after Christmas in England is "Boxing Day," which has no relation to Frank Bruno nor does it have a link to the wine boxes we are all throwing out after Christmas dinner parties (not that I would ever serve boxed wine at a dinner party! *gasp*) It does however mean that nearly every store in the country (apart from local corner shops) are closed. That's right, the local villages are empty. Only the sounds of swinging shop signs are heard.  And for this  American, it is very odd to not be fighting over the last pair of 75% off cashmere gloves at a local department store.

After several trips to and from the car to the inlaws home to fetch pressies, we finally were able to enjoy overdoses of tea, laughter, wine, a lovely christmas dinner and the Queen's speech (who surprisingly did not wear a hat, but did sport a very posh green frock!...can the Queen 'sport' a frock?). We devowered more presents and pulled a cracker or two. In England , it is a tradition to "pull" a cracker at Christmas. These multi-coloured presents contain a little strip that goes "bang" when two people pull at each end of the cracker, and each one contains a colorful paper hat, a joke or motto, and a small gift. Of course, there is a knack for this ancient art of Christmas crackering.

Father Christmas was very generous to me! I received a tiny box filled with a gorgeous ring! (and yes it worthy of a sentence on its very own) It is absolutely stunning.

Other presents included:

£75 John Lewis Voucher (this was used today! I ordered my very first sewing machine!)
£20 WH Smith Gift Card
CoCo Chanel Mademoiselle perfume
Sex and the City DVD boxset
Three sets of Pj's from LaSenza
Fuzzy socks & slippers
"That Extra Half an Inch" by Victoria Beckham (Never been a huge fan of Posh, but I adore what her personal shoppers buy for her!)
The Body Shop soap, Shower Gel and body spray in new scent
Molton Brown Soap & lotion 
2 DVD's - "In Her shoes" and "Failure to Launch"
Belgium Chocolates (my fav!)
Cute stocking stuffers (pink purses and shoes post-it notes, hand picked chocolates from Thorntons, smelly pens)
Knitting Set and lovely yarn for scarves

It was a jolly good time.

What's in a name

Several months ago, I walked into a cute little toy shop that is owned by a New Yorker who now lives in the UK. I envy her deeply.  A dream that I have is to own my own children's book store/toy store. Something very "Shop Around the Corner" from the movie "You've Got Mail." A shop with quirky and creeky floor boards, exposed beams and fresh flowers next to the till (cash register for you american folk), a story book lady on Thursday mornings and antique prints of Winnie the Pooh characters - the classic pooh with pastel colours - and purchase bags made of canvas. A free sprinkle of happiness, with each purchase. I may even invest in a section of antique collector books purely for the 'dusty & old' book scent.

I'm steering from the subject. Let me take you back to the New Yorker owned toy store. It's perfect. The shabby chic shelving bearing french made wooden toys, yoyo's of sturdy quality and must-have baby chic clothing. Up the tiny staircase, painted in glossy blues, one would find lacey dresses fit for a pig-tailed princess. I adore this this shop.

And in this perfectly sugary store I found this phone called "Julia". These adorable phones have six electronic sound buttons and one large button that plays a six second re-recordable message. Of course the soft ear peice makes it. The best feature is the recording button. So naturally my husband and I recorded a message from "Auntie Mandy & Uncle UK" for our edible neice, Holland Diane.

Meet Holland. She is perfect in every way and doesn't quite know it yet, but she is a London girl at heart. She now owns this darling little phone. When I asked her father if Holland likes her pressie, he responded, "She loves it and has named it her 'hello'." Of course all phones should be named "hello." She.is.genius.

At least there were rainbows

At least there were rainbows

Our trip to the coast of England was spectacular. The sun is never guaranteed in England and while on holiday it rarely peeked through the gray clouds. Nonetheless, we made the best of it, but I must admit it was rather strange wearing coats in July.

 

The first few evenings we spent time relaxing and site seeing. While the seaside was not at its full potential, it was breathtaking. Darren and I walked along the beaches and took in the scenery, mainly enjoying our first holiday together since we married.

 

 

 

 

Pictured above is Darren getting a closer look at the boats passing......

My summers in America were often spent with my family in our condo in Destin, Florida. I didn't realize how different the beaches here in England would be compared to those I experienced in Florida all of those years. I have memories of the sand burning under my feet, volleyball and the sand only a few feet from our back door. That wasn't quite the case here in England. Most of the beaches are not sandy. In fact, the ocean is lined with millions of pebbles. I have never seen anything like it. The shapes and colors of each pebble were all so different and distinct. I brought a few home with me. I just could not resist. The make a wonderful addition to our candle garden in the living room.

 

 

 

 

Mid-week we ventured out to surrounding villages and towns. We made a stop in Torquay, which is known as the "English Rivera." Minus the English accents, I felt as if we were walking the streets of Spain.

 

 

 

 

 

When I wasn't walking around looking like a complete tourist with my camera in one hand and my jaw dragging the cobble stone streets, we were gazing at butterflies,  choo-choo'ing at steam engine trains along the countryside and begging my husband to let me take home a baby otter.

 

My favorite detour was to Buckfast Abbey which is the home of a Roman Catholic Community of Benedictine monks. The first monastery was founded in 1018, but was suppressed by Henry VIII in 1539. It was re founded in 1882. The Abbey Church was rebuilt by the monks themselves. Pictured to the right is the Blessed Sacrament Chapel which was added to provide a place for quiet prayer. The glass depicts Christ at the Last Supper and was designed and made by Abbey's monks.   

Cast in solid bronze by Bernhard Witte, the baptismal font is a replica of the masterpiece in Hildesheim Cathedral in Germany. The figures on the side of the font, modeled in high relief, give a graphical account of the doctrine of Christian Baptism - for example, the Israelites passing through the Red Sea, and the baptism of Christ in the River Jordan.  At the base of the font, there are four kneeling figures. These figures are the symbols of the four great rivers of paradise, Gihon, Tigris, Phison and Euphrates. The font weighs 317 kg. The heavy cover is raised by means of a system of counterweights above the ceiling.

On our way home I was finally able to see Stonehenge. This is something I have always wanted to see and wasn't in the slightest disappointed.  The rain subsided long enough for us to take a few photographs.

 

 

On the days that it was absolutely pouring with rain, we thumbed wrestled (I am the champion), had our noses in books, and put together a puzzle (which turned out to be more comical than anticipated). Turns out, when one sits down with a Brit to put together a puzzle...every other word is, "bit"!!    "I think this bit goes there..."  ...."oh, what about this bit," ..."here's a bit!"....."that bit doesn't fit"......"where is that bloody bit?"  Good grief, if I heard I heard it once, I heard it five dozen times. Too funny. They should be "puzzle bits" instead of  "puzzle pieces."

I am a bit dissapointed in the lack of sunshine last week and the quality of my photographs due to the lack of good light. But, over all we had an amazing time. My life was enriched with new experiences which is always exciting for me. I will long for the sounds of the ocean until I see the waves once more....