Esmé Saves the Day

This is another story about me getting locked out of the house. It is also a story of how Esmé, at the tender age of two, has become an adept and useful member of our family.

The first thing to know is that our front door automatically locks once it's shut. (You can see where this is going...) It was afternoon, we were watching a movie, and there was a dirty diaper that needed to be taken to the trash. So, not thinking about it, I dashed out barefoot into the drizzly day, diaper in hand, and tossed it in the trash just in time to hear the front door slowly click shut. Locked.

That day was Esmé's second birthday. It was also the day Roo's parents had flown home and Roo went in for his first day of work, so I was a little on edge to begin with. Locking myself out of my house in a strange country did not help.

At first I thought this had to be a bad dream, so I waited for a moment to wake up. That didn't happen, so I proceeded pull and push and jerk the door handle as hard as I could. Nothing. Okay, then I looked around for a window to climb through or a fence to hop over to access the backyard: none. I looked at the neighbor's house and thought about asking to use their phone to call Roo, but I realized I didn't know his phone number--or anyone's phone number, for that matter. I didn't even know anyone!

This is when Esmé discovered I was gone. She started saying "Uh oh" repeatedly. Then she started crying. Then the baby (laying on the sofa) started wailing. I was starting to panic. Roo wouldn't be home for another hour. That's when I actually tried to break down the door. I made a good effort, but it didn't budge.

Thankfully, there is a mail slot in our door through which I was trying to reassure Esmé that everything was going to be okay by feebly calling through it and wiggling my fingers at her. I asked her to pull the door handle, and she tried but it looked like she couldn't reach it. I told her to go get a chair to stand on to reach the handle--she got as far as looking for a chair, but her response after that was "Uh Oh!" and she came running back. I thought about having her pass me the keys, but they were up high on the mantle.

Then I said a prayer. Out loud. Because I was out of ideas and the babies were screaming. That is when Esmé proved her two-year-old valor. I asked her one more time to pull open the door handle. I saw her on her little tippy toes reaching for the handle. I pulled my side of the handle and she grasped hers and--free at last!--we'd been reunited.

I was so proud of my brave and obedient little girl, saving the day on her birthday!

 I look forward to many more years of her bailing me out of trouble. And from now on, I never go outside without my keys.

A brave girl

A good traveler

A studious toddler

Arundel Castle

London

In 2005 we spent ten days in London during our Study Abroad. I believe it was around that time they announced that London would be hosting the 2012 summer Olympics. I remember wondering, or hoping really, that I might get to come back; how much I would have loved to be back in 2012 or 2020 or anytime at all--I just wanted to come back! So as Roo and I were taking the train together into Victoria Station a couple weeks ago (grandparents were wonderful to watch the babies that day for us!) I was amazed at where I was. Truly in awe. I watched the chimneys and brick houses and trees in the streaming rain pass by out the window and thought of the last seven years and how I can't believe that we actually made it back. As much as I would have hoped it, I don't think seven years ago I ever would have realistically imagined myself here today. And that's what I love about life--the surprise of finding yourself somewhere you never imagined.

In St. James Park, June 2005 (Rockin' the double braids with a killer bandana)

At the same spot in the same park, June 2012

Our Daily Life

Here is our jazzy new car. It's actually six years old, has broken A/C and we can't figure out how to change the radio stations, but it's ours. And it holds seven people, so that means it is all ready for visitors! It's our Fun Bus! I have to try to not hit the curb while I'm driving on the wrong side of the street.

Here we are stocking up at the grocery store. If you want to make Mexican food, your options here are decidedly limited; however, if you'd like any form of milk (dry, canned, cheesed, yogurted, curdled) you're in luck. The shopping cart wheels all turn 360 degrees, making them probably more user-friendly in some way that my American brain has yet to figure out. For me, they're just unruly.

I was excited to find this The Stig cake in a box.

Life here has basically settled into a normal routine. We play at the park. We go for walks. We take Roo to the office. We watch British TV--for about ten minutes until we realize once again that British TV is terrible (FYI, in case you were wondering whether the British version of The Bachelor is even trashier than the American version, the answer is yes, it is.)

We celebrated Independence Day with some fellow Americans from church at a cottage in the countryside. We ate burgers, baked beans, and watermelon. It was good to celebrate our home country for awhile. The few British people who were they seemed pretty devastated about having lost the Colonies, though...

There's lots of rain, but the sun does come out occasionally. The countryside is so beautiful! I think this is the loveliest place I've ever been. I love it here so far!

Get Ready to Say Awww...

My best friend in Houston, Whitni, did a newborn photo session for Penny when she was a week old. It is obvious that Whitni is very talented. It is also obvious that Penny should be the envy of every other baby.

Brighton

As you may or may not remember, in Pride and Prejudice, Brighton is the place from whence Lydia runs away with Mr. Wickham and nearly brings ruin upon the whole of her family.  Well, after going to Brighton myself,  let's just say I'm not surprised that happened here.  Lots of dirtiness in more than one way. The sea was lovely and the buildings were interesting, but for me Brighton was sort of a sad place. It had the feel of a once magnificent destination gone cheaply commercial, dilapidated, deteriorated from its former glory. We didn't have time to walk out on the pier. Maybe next time I'm feeling wild we'll go down and give it a whirl.

It was fun to get above the city in this big ferris wheel we rode:

Brighton from Annie Phillips on Vimeo.

Kimpton

Roo's dad, Reed, has traced his ancestors back to a tiny village not far from us called Kimpton. Last Sunday we decided to venture out there and see if we could find any gravestones or church records on the Phillips. We drove farther and farther out of civilization until we pulled into a speck of a village (a few cottages and a church) that was Kimpton. It was sunny and warm and quiet, just the sound of rustling leaves and singing birds. We walked into the silent graveyard and explored the centuries-old church. To stand in a place where literally centuries-worth of people have worshiped and married and walked is utterly fascinating to me. I love that you don't have to go searching for history in this country, it is apparent in every village and every town, the past feels like a member of the present here.

The gravestones in the church yard were worn down and difficult to read, so we decided to ask a local for some help. Reed called over the fence to a man in his garden, explained who we were and what we were looking for. The man suggested we ought to contact a man named John for a record of the gravestones.

 "Ok," said Reed, "Can you give me his contact information."

 "Yeah," said the man (named Rupert, we later found out), "He lives right over there. I'll walk over with you."

So we followed Rupert, clad in a knitted sweater and pink pants tucked into tall Wellington boots, over to John's house. We knocked on the door of the most quaint cottage anyone has ever seen and out came John who looked like a white-haired Waldo in glasses, corduroy, and a sweater. We talked for awhile and he directed us to the best place to find records for the town. But as we were standing there in this picturesque country garden, I thought, here we are talking to two of THE MOST English people in the whole world--in THE MOST English place in the whole world. I loved it! After a jolly chat, we bid them farewell and they bid us good luck in our search.

On our way out of town, Rupert showed us the local library--a red phone booth. A few years back the government was going to remove it due to lack of use; however, the locals wanted to keep it around so they bought it from the government for five pounds and used it for the next most logical thing: a library.

Though we didn't find the gravestones we were looking for, we very much enjoyed our time in Kimpton. I couldn't have dreamed up a more quaint place if I tried! It was lovely, interesting, and above all, very English, which for this American girl, is a joy.