Park Time

Ice Cream Time

Messy Time

Parade Time

“Airplane!!”

“Candy!”

“Mmmmmm. Candy.”

Porch Time

On Monday, our fifth day of travel, we decided to take a day trip to Windsor and visit Windsor Castle.

We activated our BritRail England passes and took the train from Waterloo Station to Windsor-Eaton. The advantage of buying the BritRail pass is that instead of buying a specific ticket for a specific train, you can arrive at the station and catch whatever train shows up next. It’s only good for a certain number of days but it’s flexible, which was nice for our family and our unpredictability.

Here we are as our train to Windsor pulled up.

The kids LOVED everything to do with the trains. (Even now, at home, Wes will sometimes say, “Train tonight” like he wants to go on a train.) Our train to Windsor was a good first overground train to ride because it wasn’t busy, and it wasn’t a long trip (under an hour).

I had been to Windsor as a BYU student ten years ago, but the experience was different this time. First, this time it was raining. And second, we had our kids to juggle. And by juggle, I mean take turns holding/swapping them in and out of the stroller while they slept.

At least Carissa is small enough still that we can carry her for a little while. We took turns. But John held her a lot.

This is a bird’s eye view of the castle:

We took pictures on the grounds, but photos weren’t allowed at all inside the castle. I guess that’s how they make so much money off their postcards and coffee table books. The grounds were lovely. I didn’t remember seeing such pretty gardens last time.

We saw royal guards up close.

(Must be such a boring job, standing there, totally still.)

In the first picture of the guards above notice the gentleman walking on the left–he was The Man with The Keys. Strollers aren’t allowed in Windsor Castle unless physically needed. When we passed through security before entrance, the nice lady looked at Wes in the stroller and asked if he needed to be in it. We said no. She asked, But would it be easier if he were in it? We said yes. So that’s where The Man with The Keys comes in. He let us in special doors openable only with his key that led us to elevators. I felt like we were going behind the scenes of Windsor Castle. But Wes had to stay in the stroller the whole time, which he didn’t like.

We saw some neat things:
– Queen Mary’s dollhouse

It’s a giant dollhouse that was built in the 1920’s to an exact 1:12 scale and includes miniatures of famous paintings, books, and china created by the artists, authors, and craftsmen especially for the doll house. It showcases a new gadget of the day–a vacuum–and the bathroom toilet even flushes. I don’t remember being especially interested in it ten years ago, but I thought it was pretty cool this time.

– St. George’s Hall

I remember seeing a special on PBS about the kitchens at Windsor Castle and all the work that goes into holding a royal banquet there. This is the hall where such banquets are held. It was cool to see it in person (minus the table and guests shown in this picture from the Internet). They measure each place setting and the distance between chairs precisely so it appears impeccably perfect. Nothing too good for the Queen.

After we finished at Windsor Castle we headed down the street for lunch. Windsor has such a pleasant shopping area, I wish we had more time to stroll. But lunch was fantastic, and it had mostly stopped raining.

We ate at The Drury House (“Windor’s Oldest Established Restaurant for Over 100 Years”). It was built in 1645.

It was small and cramped, but the food was good. It serves traditional British fare. I ate chicken pot pie, which was homemade and came with potatoes, carrots, and peas (the Brits eat peas with everything, it seems). Guy had fish and chips. Donee had yorkshire pudding. John had some sort of meat. Wes ate a salad, and Carissa had french fries (her go-to favorite).

It was tasty, but my favorite was the cream tea. In England tea is a common afternoon snack. It’s served nearly everywhere. Cream tea usually involves a pot of tea for one, a scone (American biscuit) or two, and strawberry jam with clotted cream (which is a cream as thick as sour cream, but mildly sweet). This was my first time ever enjoying afternoon tea (I can’t say I’m surprised I missed out on this as a BYU student; Mormons don’t do tea), and I loved it. We ordered peppermint tea, which is herbal. I love hot drinks, and I love scones, and I love clotted cream. A match made in heaven. John never really understood why afternoon tea is so great; it’s just not his thing. But Guy is a total herbal tea-head, so we made time for afternoon tea together other days after this. YUM. Probably one of my favorite English experiences.

We shopped a little and bought some Walker’s shortbread (so much cheaper than at our local grocery store in Utah), but we had to hurry to catch our train back to London.

Carissa relaxing on the way home.

That night we ate dinner across the river at Canary Wharf again (at Zizzi’s) and packed, preparing to check out of our hotel the next day and travel to Bath.

Our third day in England (fourth day of travel) was Sunday, so we went to church like usual.

The unusual thing was how long and how much effort it took to get there. I remember this from when I was a BYU student in London. I took two trains to get to the stop nearest the chapel (which was actually an elementary school) and then we had about a ten minute walk from there. It took a while and cost money.

Likewise, from our hotel in southeast London, since we decided to attend the Hyde Park ward (which is kind of the main LDS hub in London), we took the bus to the tube station, then took two underground trains to the South Kensington tube stop nearest the chapel. From there, we walked through a tunnel that leads from the tube stop to the Science Museum, which is directly across the road from the Hyde Park chapel. It took over an hour and we were late to church.

We weren’t the only late ones, though. We joined a small group of people waiting in the foyer to be admitted after the passing of the sacrament ended. The chapel was full so we ended up in the very back of the overflow in the cultural hall. The bishopric had to send men back to set up more chairs for us. We joined our stroller with about ten others lining the back wall of the cultural hall. (At least we have a British brand Maclaren, so it fit right in.)

The church is being remodeled in preparation for visitors during the 2012 Olympics. They’re updating the golden steeple on top, and inside in the foyer they’ve added a Christus statue…

…and multimedia presentations like “I Am A Mormon” videos.

After church we headed across the street and spent an hour at the Science Museum. I had walked past it so many times as a BYU student but had never gone inside (and it’s free).

Then we headed down Brompton Road towards the Knightsbridge area–home of world-famous Harrods department store.

It was a lovely day for a lovely walk, and Knightsbridge is one of the more beautiful parts of London.

Harrods is famous in part because of its motto: Omnia Omnibus Ubique–“All Things for All People, Everywhere.” And once you walk into its million-square-foot space, you know they’re not exaggerating. It’s impressive.

Harrods wasn’t really our typical Sunday-type activity, but it was so close to church that we decided to stop in, take a few pictures, breathe in the expensive air, and have lunch. It was one of my favorite memories from London.

We walked through the world-famous food market. This is just one small, small part.

Harrods has 32 restaurants alone. We ate our Mother’s Day feast at the Georgian.

I wish I had snapped a picture of the buffet. It was amazing. And delicious. And expensive. But my mother-in-law was treating, so we were able to enjoy it.

They had traditional British food like Yorkshire pudding. Everything was great, but the dessert was really great. Loved the chocolate mouse pops and bread pudding with warm custard. Some of our desserts:

From Harrods we took the tube to the British Museum. It’s famous for its ancient Greek and Roman artifacts and the Rosetta Stone (below).

Wes appreciating the history.

We didn’t spend so very long at the museum because we were all a little tired. From there we walked to nearby Russell Square park so the kids could run their wiggles out. I love that London has green parks everywhere. Gardens are very important to the British. This was a nice, peaceful park for a Sunday afternoon.

We took the tube from the Russel Square station and headed home. Carissa playing with Legos in our room.

And then it was time to begin our final full day stationed in London.

I just had to pause tonight to write a little about our son Wes. It’s because I’ve been following the adoption journey of a local family who is preparing to bring home a three-year-old girl with Down syndrome from Eastern Europe.

They just returned home from their first of three(?) visits that they’re required to make, visiting the girl in her orphanage, before the adoption can officially take place. They’re scheduled to bring her home in August.

Every time I read their updates online I am so touched by their experiences: what struggles they’ve had making the decision to adopt (especially since this is their SECOND time adopting like this); how they’ve been touched by the amazing love and personality of their almost-daughter that they’ve only just met; and their realization that if they didn’t provide this little girl a better home her life would be far different, spent in an institution for disabled starting the day she turns four years old (which is in September this year).

I love the organization that helps get the ball rolling on these overseas adoptions of kids with special needs, especially Down syndrome. It’s called Reece’s Rainbow. Take a look.

I just find myself really thinking about what it means to have my son Wesley.

I can’t understand why so many parents give up their kids when they discover he or she has a condition like Down syndrome. Just. Don’t. Understand. AT ALL. Whether it’s up for adoption, or abortion, it makes me a little (a lot) crazy to try to comprehend this. I know much of it is born from lack of education and understanding, and perhaps some lack of compassion.

Nonetheless, I can’t wrap my head around why these moms (and dads) do not see their child as a PERSON. A whole, unique, WONDERFUL person. They’re not looking ahead two years when their son takes his first steps. They don’t know how excited they’ll be to see that. They are not thinking about how much fun it will be to tickle their child and make him giggle uncontrollably, or how awesome it will be to hear him say his first words, or to learn a new skill. They discount all these amazing accomplishments, and their part in them, when they give their child away.

I didn’t adopt Wes. He was a gift. He only cost me 36 weeks of pregnancy, eight hours of labor, and about $20,000 in hospital bills (although not really because that was back when we actually had good insurance. Thankfully).

I didn’t know he was coming as packaged, but I’m so glad he did. He is Wes. My Wesley.

We have a daughter, Carissa, who is no less amazing and wonderful. She is so fun and makes me smile every day. She is a doll. I’m just as grateful to have her.

It’s just that when I read stories like the ones from this family adopting a girl like Wes from the other side of the world, and I hear what the living conditions are like, I can’t help but put Wes in her place and wonder what it would be like if he hadn’t come straight to us.

I think about Wes living without a mom and dad to love him, and for him to love. I think about him turning four, or five, or six (depending on the country) and being sent to live in an institution for mentally disabled people. All by himself. No family. No home. No school. No church. My heart breaks to think of all that he would miss out on and never know. It aches to think of him not having a mom and dad to love him, to tickle him, to play with him, to feed and clothe him. It hurts to think of him receiving an ounce less love and appreciation than he deserves. To think of him growing up in a place like a mental institution where people are considered less than they really are. Yet there are so many kids that live this life.

Here’s a video from ABC News with Diane Sawyer about a different local family who last year adopted a little girl with Down syndrome from Ukraine. Can you picture Wes there?

I know things happen in the world that we’re not able to understand, that God understands, and maybe someday I’ll understand too. I’m just so glad that Wes is here, home, with us. Happy, healthy, growing, learning, developing new loves and talents and skills nearly daily.

Today I was tickling him and thinking that there is nothing better than his smile. I love to make him laugh.

Lately he has been becoming the expert pray-er in our house. Here’s a sample of his praying skills. (I should have wiped his nose first; sorry.)

Rough translation:

Dear Heavenly Father,
(Thank you for the) food today.
(Please bless) Mom, and Dad, Wesley, Carissa, Mommy, Gramma, Grampa, cousins, and Mommy.

In the name of Jesus Christ,
Amen

Wes and Carissa painting.

So capable. So wonderful. So full of everything good and glorious. So glad he’s here.