London Calling

On Monday, Catherine and I took the boys to London to pick up Jonathan, as he had to bring some things home from work and didn’t want to haul a box home on the train. The weather was distasteful so, unfortunately, we didn’t end up walking around anywhere, but we did drive by the Parliament buildings, Big Ben, the London Eye and the London Bridge. I can’t wait to get back there this weekend and the next; even in the rain, the city looked beautiful. It sure was nice, though, to have a driving tour and I now have a slight grasp on the layout of downtown. It’s funny: the way a lot of lower mainlanders feel about driving in Vancouver is how most suburbanites feel about driving in London. Catherine had never before driven to Jonathan’s office and was even quite proud of herself for making it through one of London’s notoriously chaotic traffic circles without a dent or a scratch. On two occasions, though, once while abandoning a right turn (the equivalent of a left turn back home) in a busy intersection because of an impatient driver laying on their horn behind us, and once just after missing a particular exit, Catherine began swearing like a sailor just quiet enough for it to go unnoticed by the boys and upon observing my amusement, we both began laughing loudly. I am so blessed to have this family. I could so easily of ended up in a house where I didn’t feel completely comfortable, where meals were awkward and conversations difficult and uneasy. There was also the extreme possibility of living in a house where I was treated like 19th century hired help. Not only do Catherine and I always have lunch together, but we will often have tea and biscuits in the morning when she returns from dropping the boys off at school, and conversations are never stifled and always amusing just talking about our lives and current events. Dinner with Jonathan is the same, but more likely to include questions like "In Canada, do you…?" or "Is there…in the UK?" On Wednesday night Catherine made an amazing meal; I told her to sit while I cleaned up the dishes and while doing so, it just struck me how comfortable and natural I feel here and how much I feel like a part of the family. God is good. I can’t even begin to relay all the things they’ve told me about their previous au pairs and how awful they were, so I know they feel the same way as I do. You’d think because of the nature of the job, those that pursue it would be somewhat domestically inclined, but one girl couldn’t manage to cook a pre-made pizza in the oven, another didn’t know to shut the oven door while baking something; that’s only the beginning, but these just came up last night because I made dinner. Catherine's mom called while I was cooking and my ears pricked when I heard her say "She's in the kitchen"; this was followed by "No, she doesn't hide out." Nice to know.

Random side note: Did you know that the cut off time for abortions here is 25 weeks and Catherine’s boys (the twins) were born at 24 weeks? When she told me that, I felt sick.

I’ve found that since being here, I’ve become less and less aware of myself, which is odd considering how much time I have to address and mingle with my thoughts. Let me explain what I mean: when you’re aware of yourself, not that it makes them false or premeditated, but you’re just very aware of the things you do and say. I think it stems from a constant and relentless desire to truly know and understand myself, but when I’m questioning whether or not I’m being absolutely sincere or just being the person that I hope to be, the line between who I am and who I want to be tends to get a little blurred. So, essentially, I was just getting further and further from what I strive for. What I’ve learned about myself in the last few weeks is that my thoughts can sometimes betray me, but my actions are truthful and this has been a huge source of comfort and reassurance. I hope that was at least a little comprehensible. I knew this trip would provide clarity and influence progression, so I’m trying to go through each day with both eyes wide open. I should say, though, that being aware of yourself isn’t generally a bad thing. If you tend to put your foot in your mouth or are simply an ass, self-awareness could be the best thing for you; but the average person need only be aware when their actions are inappropriate or irrational. Like the other day when I was minding Edward while he placed his cup in the dishwasher; I’ve been encouraging the boys to clean up their dishes after a meal (Edward did it without my asking yesterday; I was so proud). After he positioned it where he thought best, I became very aware of myself blatantly waiting for and watching him turn the corner before immediately rearranging the cup to where I wanted it. That’s a perfectionist being irrational.

I spoke with Nina on the phone yesterday to finalize plans and book a hostel. Martmarie won't be joining us until Sunday, so I'm taking the train up myself and meeting them in front of a store called "Selfridges" on Oxford street at 12:00pm; I can't wait. I had no doubts that she was a wonderful, relatively normal young lady, but it was still nice to hear her voice. You can never be too careful though. During my original search to find other au pairs in the area, I posted my email address on a forum put up for that purpose. Last week I got an email from another au pair asking if I wanted to meet up the coming weekend or at a later date. "She" claimed to have gotten my email address from another au pair site; odd how I’d never been to that website, let alone put up a profile. That was the first red flag. In my response, I addressed that minor detail and explained that I was going to be away on the weekend. I never did get a response. If that’s not sketchy, I don’t know what is. It doesn’t seem like a big deal, I laughed about it, but the reality of those unlikely, but possible dangers is a little unnerving.

Catherine's just left to pick up the boys from school. Two of her friends are coming over with their kids for tea (dinner) this after noon. Each friend has 4 children, so there will be a total of 12 kids here; 4 of which are autistic and that's besides Tom. Crazy times are ahead...