More than four million readers fell in love with Nan, the smart, spirited, and sympathetic heroine of the #1 bestseller The Nanny Diaries.
Now she’s back. After living abroad for twelve years, she and her husband, Ryan, aka H.H., have returned to New York to make a life for themselves. In the midst of getting her new business off the ground and fixing up their fixer-upper, Ryan announces his sudden desire to start a family. His timing simply couldn’t be worse.
To compound the mounting construction and marital chaos, her former charge, Grayer X, now sixteen years old, makes a drunken, late-night visit, wanting to know why she abandoned him all those years ago. But how can she explain to Grayer what she still hasn’t come to terms with herself? In an attempt to assuage her guilt, yet against every instinct, Nan tries to help Grayer and his younger brother, Stilton, through their parents’ brutal divorce, drawing her back into the ever-bizarre life of Mrs. X and her Upper East Side enclave of power and privilege.
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One of my fondest childhood memories is when we’d go to visit my grandparents in Florida and my grandfather (pop-pop) would take my brother and I out back to the orange tree where we’d pick the fruit off the tree. Then he would take it inside and make fresh juice and cut them in half and section them for us to eat. Oranges always make me think of him as does sawdust (since he was always building things in his workshop).
I was just remembering a relatively strange but “fond childhood memory” this morning. While I was away from home, probably sleeping over at a friend’s house, my mom cleaned my room. Not just a quick clean-up, but a COMPLETE clean. She even built shelves to organize my stuff. I was a little bit of a neat freak child, but I couldn’t quite keep my own room straightened. This was one of the nicest things anyone could have done for me.
Christmas Eve 1972, I was 4 years old, and my family lived in what we have since dubbed the “little house”. My sister and I shared a small room, adjacent to the living room; our bedroom door opening up directly to where the tree was standing. That night, once my parents had tucked us into bed, I couldn’t sleep. Too excited about what Santa might bring; I tossed, turned and fought the temptation to open the door a wee bit, in the hopes of sneaking a peek at Santa Claus. My curiosity finally getting the best of me, I remember working up the courage and tip-toeing to the door before freezing in my tracks. With my ear against the door, I could hear rustling on the other side where I assumed Santa was working, but I was too afraid to open it. Quickly jumping back into my bed and under the covers; I quietly listened. I was so scared that he would find out that I wasn’t fast asleep as I should be. I wondered what would happen if he did. Then, suddenly, up on the roof, I heard what sounded like hoofs and sleigh bells. I finally fell asleep and the next morning, I told everybody what I had heard. Admittedly, it was probably my overactive childhood imagination that caused me to hear the things that I did. But regardless, I remember that night as though it were yesterday. Nearly forty years later, it remains one of my most cherished childhood memories.
I spent summers up at my grandmother’s house from ages 12 through 18 and couldn’t wait for the end of school to begin packing up the car (I’m sure my mother loved having myself and two younger brother’s off her hands for a few months too, although she came to visit often). Granny lived on a lake next to my aunt, uncle and three cousins and I loved every second we spent up there and now at 36 if I don’t get out of the city in the summer to sit by a lake, I start to go a little crazy.
My fondest childhood memory was playing Barbies @ my grandmas house with my sister. We’d pack all their clothes and accessories, and then set up shop once we got there. We weren’t allowed to bring the dollhouse (which thoroughly annoyed us), so we improvised and used ALL my grandmas then VHS tapes to make our Barbie mansions….
When I was seven years old, my mother was pregnant with number five. I was the only girl and had three brothers, hence I threatened to kill my parents if they had another boy (being seven, I assumed they had a choice). I was an absolute terror throughout the entire pregnancy- I ran away (down the street), had mood swings, and beat up my little brothers.
I came downstairs one morning and our neighbour was there making himself a cup of tea. Birth number five, I knew what this meant. No sooner had I worked out where Mum and Dad were than the phone rang. It was Dad. And he asked to speak to me first. He told me I had a little sister and I barely believed him! Next thing I was dressed and ready and Dad came home and picked me up. When I arrived at the Hospital Mum was still in the delivery room. The nurse handed me Jessica and I wouldn’t let go! I gave her her first bath and everything! They were the best moments of my childhood.
One of my favorite childhood memories was my trip to India.
I was only about 5 years old, but I remember it perfectly. everyone was so nice to me and it was my first time ever leaving the country and going in an airplane. I was young at the time, but i saw how people in india lived and I became very thankful for everything we have here in the United States. It was a wonderful experience and I can’t wait to go back again.
One of my fondest childhood memories are the summers I spent at my Grandparents cottage as a little girl. Nature, a huge garden, honey bees and my Grandpapa’s day time ‘home’: the shed. Every morning, I would help my Grandmaman get breakfast ready by setting the table and taking out every kind of jam, peanut butter, butter, honey and juice I could find so everyone could choose what they wanted. Then I would run out through the morning dewy grass to the shed to tell my Grandpapa it was time to eat. After breakfast, my Grandpapa and I would take a short truck ride to the local dépanneur (which was actually part of someones house) to get the daily paper, milk and a few goodies. Grandmaman would meet us outside on our return and we would divide up the newspaper (cartoons for me, of course) and the goodies and enjoy our time together with nature on the balcony.
Here is one of my fondest childhood memories actually involving my nanny. I learned about my love for baking at a really young age. When I was 3 years old my nanny used to dress us up alike and have me help. We both wore big wrap around aprons and tied our hair up in towels (our chefs hats) and would bake. I don’t remember what we made but I can remember laughing, being covered in flour and having fun.
When I was about 5 years old, my family left Canada and returned to Europe where my parents originated from. To earn a living my parents ran a cafe. One of my fondest memories is dancing to the tunes that the were played on the juke box (guess I’m dating myself here), particularly the song Puppet on a string by Sandy Shaw. How I loved to twirl around and dance to that tune and entertain anyone who stopped by our cafe.
To this day, when I hear that tune, it takes me back to a happy time when I felt free and uninhibited.
My fondest childhood memory is a simeple one. Sitting on my grandfather’s lap, with my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. It made me feel so safe and comfortable.
One of my fondest childhood memories started out as a scary cautionary tale. My family had taken its annual trip to Wildwood, NJ. I must have been 6 years old, standing on the boardwalk, inching farther away from my father to catch a glimpse of the fireworks several feet away. I was so focused on my discovery that I did not hear the repetitive “Watch the tram car please” warnings, not its bells – I was standing on the tramcar rails! I felt someone take my hand and pull me to safety. I assumed it was one of my family members. As I looked up to the male that was holding my hand, I took a deep breath and yelled “You’re not my daddy!” and kicked the man as hard as I could in the shins. At that point my father rushed to get to me. The man explained he was only trying to help. As my father thanked him, I has holding up my fists to him (safely in my father’s arms). The man told me I had done the right thing in being wary of him (he was, after all, a stranger). I felt like a hero that day, even though I narrowly escaped getting crushed by a tram car!
my fondest memories is every year takng the ttc with my mother would take me to the eaton’s santa clause parade in toronto, we would then go to the eaton store and see their christmas window display and then I would go and see santa
My foundest childhood memory is of the Royal Winter Fair in Toronto. I grew up on a farm and each year I looked forward to the fair because it was so exciting to make the trip into the big city! The morning of the trip we would wake early, around 4am, and load some of our best animals onto our trailor and make the trek to the fair grounds. My dad knew this was a big excursion so instead of taking the most direct route he’d thoughtfully ensure our trip made it’s way through the city so we could take in all the sites.
My fondest childhood memory is of my grandmother soothing me to sleep. When I was young I often had nightmares when I slept away from home. Because of this, my grandmother spent countless nights rocking me to sleep, singing lullabies as I lay in her lap.
Now it’s my turn to return that love to her in her old age. When I stay over I curl up in her bed, hold her hand, and sing lullabies until she falls asleep.
One of my fondest memories was turning into a bit of a local celebrity in my small town when I was chosen to be on the TV show “Thrill of a Lifetime”.
That particular experience is absolutely filled with memories, from not believing the TV show rep when they called to tell me I’d been selected (to the point where they had to tell me to put my mother on, please, right away), to the excitement of riding in a limo, staying at a great hotel in Toronto… my first room service. I learned that what you see on TV isn’t always as it’s portrayed (”What do you mean, pretend this is my house, and wave to that guy I don’t actually know????”) And I became quite popular (temporarily) in grade 4 because of my new celebrity status!
Thank you everyone for sharing your wonderful childhood memories. They’re all fantastic!
Each one put a smile on my face as I’m sure they did for everyone reading.
Here are the winners.
Alma
Lindsay
Katherine
Lydia
Robyn Baldwin
Thank you!
Enjoy the Book.