Life-Less-Ordinary

Happy Valentine's Day

2012-02-14T05:11:00.001-05:00

Happy Valentine's Day, gentle reader.

This red-and-pink love themed holiday doesn't seem to be very big here. Yes, at the commercial level, but not to the every-school-has-a-party level. I waxed nostalgic with an American friend whose own children have only ever attended school outside of the States about those old elementary school parties. The ones in which each person made a large envelope to affix to their desk and then each student went from desk-to-desk depositing valentines. Some of the store bought variety, some of the home made variety and some bearing foil wrapped chocolates. (I was a bit partial to the latter, I'll admit.)

Belgium is consumed with celebrating Carnaval right now, so no V-Day parties at the kids' schools. Instead, costumes and noisemakers and confetti, etc, etc.

We still sent in valentines for Eli's class. It's fun to teach Eli little holiday traditions and give him a chance to share them with his friends--many of whom may not have celebrated it in this way before. So Eli and I made valentines. I decided to melt down broken crayon stubs and make mixed color crayons in a candy mold I had.

The shreds and curls of colored paper. Beautiful.

Colorful, recycled owl crayons.

What was very cool, was what happened next. I noticed that Bru was really examining the pile of shredded wrappers quite intently. Then, he started to move a piece at a time and set them deliberately on a page he had colored. Here, there. Here...and there... Just so.

Then, he improvised even more. Let me just remind you of how tough it can be for autistic kiddos to improvise. Creativity, adaptation, flexibility, improvisation--not strong suits. Nope, this boy finds the world of the concrete vastly comforting. But, as I watched, quite rapt, he took another piece of paper lying near by and started to rip it into shreds and add them to his art installation.

By the time he had finished, there was a doozie of a mess, but I was delighted. How cool it was to watch him do something unscripted. How very cool it was to see him mimic the shreds of wrapper by ripping paper of his own. While for a typically-developing kid that may not be such a big deal, it is for this kiddo. So many skill sets had to go into that observation, planning and execution.

Then, the mess got even bigger when Eli joined in, with accessories, and started 'cooking' up things that had names like "Bijka-la-dij-kala" and "Ikidaba-shu-no."

"Mom, try this. It's healfy."

In keeping with the 'owl' theme. Eli and I made these valentines. Quite possible that this little play on words will be lost on the non-English-speaking majority of classmates and family members. Doh.

I helped Eli ink his thumb and he made two ink prints on a piece of construction paper. Then I turned them into owls with a few inexpertly drawn lines. Then Eli used a heart-shaped puncher to make the little hearts. He dotted glue on and stuck the hearts in place. Thennnnnn, we flipped the cards over and I helped him write the letter "E" (for Eli, you know). By the sixth card, he said "Mom, I can do this. I don't need your help." And sure enough, he could do it. He really didn't need my help. Awesome. (And then, at the end, I exclaimed "Wow! So, what letter did you just draw all by yourself?!" And he answered, "I don't know." Smile.)

This card brought to you by the Letter "E".

And, as an antidote to all the pink and red, I end with this photo. I don't have even one clue as to what he was trying to ask for, but for some reason, Bru really, really wanted "Black" this morning. Let me know if you have any insight on this. I'm fresh out...

Pink Divinity

2012-02-07T18:17:00.000-05:00

Sigh. Sigh. Sigh. I wish I was closer to my sister's home (same continent would be nice, even) so that I could hold this sweet, new baby of hers. I can't, so I'll just keep sighing (and sighing) as I smile at these photos.

My brother-in-law is a fellow with an artistic soul and many talents for expressing that gift. One skill that he has been growing and honing is photography. These photos just tug at me emotionally. They make me feel longing and joy and wistfulness and thankfulness and all such manner of things. And there is no reason why you shouldn't hurry over to his site to look at them (and so many others) ASAP, but personally, I think such style and such a subject sure have a way with making our blog look that much better.

A Snowy Afternoon in Pictures

2012-02-05T03:28:00.000-05:00

It's quiet and calm in a way that only snow can create. Not much snow, compared to our Michigan (or even DC) days, but snow enough. Here are some pictures from our lazy Saturday.

Empty streets and snow-dusted trees.

An inviting window on a cold walk.

The local patisserie--always an appealing destination.

Cold dog. Patiently waiting.

Snowy stack of beer crates at the little shopette.

Eli snow-suited and ready for action.

Snow builds community--catching up with neighbors...

...while the kids play.

On the 31st of January

2012-02-04T07:10:00.000-05:00

Memorable historical happenings on January 31^st:

Birth of Austrian composer Franz Schubert (1797)

Gail Borden announces invention of evaporated milk (1851)

Birth of American West novelist Zane Grey (1872)

Birth of Russian ballerina Anna Pavlova (1882)

Birth of Jackie Robinson, first African-American baseball player to join the Major Leagues (1919)

Scotch tape first marketed by 3M Corp (1928)

“Green Hornet” radio show is first heard on WXYZ Radio in Detroit (1936)

Birth of American pitcher Nolan Ryan (1947)

RCA demonstrates first music synthesizer (1955)

Apollo 14 launched (1971)

Birth of American performer Justin Timberlake (1981)

First McDonald’s in Russia opens in Moscow (1990)

Birth of Sonya Grace to Joy and Thor Rasmussen in Saginaw, MI (2012)

Sales and Strikes

2012-01-26T07:31:00.003-05:00

Today is a very Belgian day, from all accounts. Grey and damp, but with Spring bulbs already starting to break through the ground. Eli is home with a fever and because his "eyeballs hurt." I figured, coming from a three year old, a symptom such as painful eyeballs is pretty legitimate and shouldn't be taken lightly. He is napping, happily.

Why happily, you may ask? Yeah, he doesn't always have a good attitude when it comes to shutting off the fun and laying down for rest. Today he was ready to nap, however, because he got to take his new toy with him. We stopped by the mall to pick up some vacuum cleaner dust bags and to quickly glance at the sales. Before we headed in, I mentioned that he could have a small something if he 'behaved well and listened to his mama.' He immediately stated that he wanted a Barbie.

And, because he learned about Barbies from his Australian friend, he pronounces them "bawwbies." Seriously.

I kind of figured he'd change his mind a million times by the time we actually selected a toy, but nope, despite his eyeballs hurting he was singing "I am happy because I am going to get a Bawwbie...".

My errand complete, we headed to the toy store. He walked past Cars cars, dinosaurs, Legos, Playmobil and even a Bob the Builder set. He did get momentarily slowed by a large plastic cow, but on his own momentum moved on to the all-pink-section. The Barbies were all too expensive to be considered a 'small something.' Thankfully, a little Caring Corners doll was on sale for 2.50, so we picked it up.

He has named her "Bul the Bawwbie" and is supremely happy.

But I have digressed (majorly). I really intended to talk about "Sales" here in Belgium.

Pretty interesting (kind of frustrating, too). Here, the federal government, for various purposes including to help protect small shops, heavily regulates sales. Stores may only offer sales two times a year, winter (starting Jan 3) and in summer. And only seasonal items already in stock may be sold at sale rates. They last for about three weeks a piece, and as far as I can tell, turn every shopping venue in to a madhouse. But the discounts are good. Makes me feel awful for having spent any more money at all on over-priced products during the non-sale-season.

In any case, this is an article in The Economist that provides good background on the stingy sale set-up.

In other Belgium-related news, Monday the country intends to be on strike. I think this is the third national strike that we have seen since we arrived. Eli's school will be closed, the public transport won't run, many businesses will remain closed, protests will go on downtown and apparently strikers will block some major access routes outside of the city. Tony may still need to go to work though. He has on the other strike days, and that can be awfully tricky (and involve much hoofing-it.)

For the most part, it isn't too awful for me and the boys--we just hunker down in the house or go the playground, just as though it were a holiday break. Others, like Eli's teacher, say things like 'it is all so frustrating', but in such a mild tone as to imply that 'It really isn't any big deal. We'll strike Monday, then come back to work on Tuesday. Voila!'

But for many, who are working harder and getting paid less, such days must be really tough. The options being to not work-not get paid or work-but not get there easily. Oh, and heaven forbid that they should have kids...who won't be able to attend school that day.

Enough of my complaining. To be fair, there is, of course, another side to the story--the reason that folks are feeling the need to strike. You can read a bit more about it in this article, if you are so inclined.

You Tube Tuesday: Kung Fu Panda

2012-01-24T10:24:00.000-05:00

Bruno's current favorite.

Thank you You Tube and thank you Jackie Chan.

(Said the mom sarcastically, even though she now knows a song in Mandarin and that can't be all bad.)

New Things

2012-01-20T16:42:00.002-05:00

It's been raining and raining since I last posted. That has kept us indoors a bit more, but hasn't kept us from trying some new things. That's probably one of the aspects I best like about our nomad lifestyle--we're always exposed to new opportunities. And it's up to us to take advantage of them (or sit them out)...

Found a well-stocked Asian grocery downtown: Kam Yuen. Just in time for Lunar New Year.

Eli started his first pony lessons. (Don't worry, it wasn't on that big fellow you see in the picture)

It took him a while to get the hang of it...

But by the end, he was getting the hang of it.

Had this whole massive play place to enjoy with our neighbors on Martin Luther King Day.

***WARNING*** Next photo is food-carcass-y graphic...

We bought a whole rabbit (lapin) at the grocery store to prepare for dinner.

Using Tony's co-worker's grandmother's recipe (that also included prunes, not pictured).

Chef's prerogative...

Thanks to this blog, I was able to break down our little lapin.

For those of you wondering, the recipe was kinda-sorta like this. And, the diners' reviews were mixed:

Eli pointed out that if we ate rabbit it would not be able to "hippity hop, hippity hop anymore." True.

Bruno took a large bite thinking it looked like chicken. But finding it did not taste like chicken did not want to eat anymore.

Tony said it was good (but has not eaten any leftovers...)

I liked it.

Snacktime!

2012-01-13T15:47:00.003-05:00

Snacktime is on my mind as I grab a moment to write this post.

One, Eli has been listening to a new favorite song "Allergies" on Barenaked Ladies' kids album Snacktime! The only thing funnier/stranger than hearing your three year old sing "... Allergic to dust, allergic to trees, Allergic to mold, allergic to weeds..." is hearing your three year old ask for "Barenaked Ladies."

Just saying.

Also, I was looking through photos on my camera and saw two, one of each boy, that fits that theme. The first is of Eli having his snack on the last day of holiday vacation. The boy is pretty highbrow when it comes to dining experiences. And a candle (even a mocha scented one) seems to set the occasion so well that you find him happily singing a little tune he made up called "Paaaarty Time." That is the title and the lyrics.

On this momentous snack occasion, we drank coffee (me) and hot chocolate (E) in the little Polishware cups I got from the Bogerts for my engagement. We also nibbled on the gloriously pink homemade coconut fudge gifted to us by friends. And, the piece de resistance? A little pot of creme brulee, straight out of the oven.

I find them ingenious. (Mostly because I don't have to make them.)

Little glass containers with the custard, topped by foil, sitting in four-packs in the dairy section of the grocery store. When you are ready to pop them in the oven, you just peel off the foil and sprinkle the sugar on top. Broil and serve! (Why don't we have these in the US??)

Just for kicks, I showed Eli what it sounded like when we gently knocked the back of our spoon against the crispy bruleed crust. Tap, tap, tap. When he has creme brulee in a fancy restaurant someday, maybe he'll think of his mama.

The second picture is of Bruno covering his eyes with his forearm while holding a Clementine in one hand. Or is it? Oh no, it is more than just that. It is a picture of Bruno peeling a Clementine while keeping his eyes protected from the sting and spray of juice!!!! Love it. He's a clever boy, that one!

The Tail Returns

2012-01-13T01:22:00.001-05:00

Quite obviously, Bru needs a haircut.

Thanks to superior (and peculiar) folicular genetics, Bru is once again sporting a hair-do that just screams Liza Minnelli! And that tail. So cute. But, the tail being so long these days, folks must think it is intentional...

Un Petit Changement

2012-01-12T08:45:00.000-05:00

Ta-da!! The whole blog is going to be written in French, from this point forward!

Just kidding.

The whole blog won't be written in French, after all. Instead, it is just a little change. Commenter Out-Of-Doors-Girls (Hi, Aunt T) got it right--it is a French lesson! And, because we are hearing quite a lot of other languages, you will get a little of the others, too!

Just a Little Change...

2012-01-11T07:26:00.000-05:00

Just a little change, I promise.

You may have noticed that I have become quite lazy about updating the Sensory Sidebar. Alas, the season of sensory though still kicking when it comes to Bruno, does not hang ever-present in my thought-life these days.

So, I am going to remove it and replace it with something else. Something that each member of our family is dealing with each day. Tune in tomorrow...

Still Us in 2012

2012-01-10T07:38:00.000-05:00

Gentlereader,

The New Year is all about change, right? Resolutions to work harder, accomplish more, eat smarter, act better. That sure is the way those wily commercial forces have trained us to see the start of a new year. I've been thinking along other lines this past week, since I read the blog post of Gluten Free Girl (Shauna Ahrens). It stopped me in my tracks. What she writes is so recognizable, so (what's the word...) palpable, that it has lodged itself in my head and heart.

I can't do her thoughtful prose justice, so I'll suggest you pop right over there and check it out yourself, but my summary/take away of what I read is this: the idea of becoming a whole new person is a lot of work--why not take stock of who we are and be us in the new year.

My interpretation is simplistic, to be sure. Indeed the act of being (and being healthily) necessarily involves discipline, hard work, continuous learning and growing and even changing--all the ideas that the new-year-new-you gurus are touting, really. But I guess what I'm thinking is, to shift focus a bit. To focus more on who I am, who my family is, and where we are right now. And then work at continuing to make good choices about who my family and I continue to be and where we continue to be--and where we go from here.

Thoroughly confused yet? It sure sounded like it made a lot more sense when I tried to express it to a friend over a glass of beer (a Grimbergen Brune, for those of you interested in the pantheon of Belgian beers) a few nights ago...

All of that in attempt to say that this year we Hendons will continue to be us. Grateful (usually) to be living a life less-ordinary and dealing with the crazy that goes hand-in-hand with such a lifestyle.

With wishes for health and contentedness in this new year,
The Hendons

Adieu, Vacation. Adieu.

2012-01-07T15:48:00.003-05:00

Tomorrow marks the last day of vacation for the boys. Can't say that it is coming even a minute too soon. Not that life will get any more calm once we're back in the swing of things. No, instead we'll return to early rising for school, driving the boys here and there, speech therapy, RDI sessions, weeknight meals, homeschool attempts, etc. It'll be plenty busy, but it will, blessedly, start to fall back into a routine. Something that has been absent for much of vacation.

It was a full vacation. Grandpa and Grandma Henning visited with Uncle Dyle in tow. We celebrated Christmas and New Years with them and didn't pass up any opportunity to enjoy the bounty of delicious foods around us. Bru loved running circles around Uncle Dyle. We loved laughing at just how exhausted an active five-year old can render an athletic twenty-something!

Once family headed home and Tony headed back to work, the daily schedule became the story of a mother (me) and her two energetic boys managed to fill their days. In bad weather, no less. We discovered an indoor play venue called Planet Kid's and loved it so much that we went twice, in one week. Bru ran, climbed, rolled and slid for about two hours each day, with Eli not far behind. And I relaxed (seriously) and had a couple of cappuccinos and great conversations with other, equally delighted mothers. Amazing.

On another afternoon, the boys enjoyed water play in the kitchen sink. One side was hot and the other side was cold. They added all sorts of items to the water and had fun pouring the waters back and forth, etc. Bru kept trying to drink the water, so I added salt which made the tasting a little less appealing, but made the playing a little better, apparently. Oddly, their favorite aspect of the play may have been the pouring, mixing, squishing and dissolving of salt in the water!

On the one great weather day of the week the boys and I drove to an amazing provincial park, complete with it's own little castle! Not like the boys cared overly-much about the castle when there was trails and streams and playgrounds and mud puddles and gravel paths and woods with impromptu forts made of branches to discover. Not that I minded, as they came home pink-cheeked and worn out!

Lest you think I was mother-of-the-year (okay, it is doubtful that you would be thinking that...), I'll admit, it wasn't an easy week and I wasn't always a delight to be around myself. There may have been a few moments where I wondered if I was going to make it through the week with sanity intact. There may have been a few moments when Eli said, in heartfelt tones the only thing he could think of to demand kinder behavior of me: "Be a friend, mama. Be a friend."

Sweet boys. It wasn't that bad. Vacation actually contained more than a few moments where we all just enjoyed being together.

But here we are at the end of holiday. Just in time to say 'Adieu, Vacation. Adieu.'

Mom and dad at the Louvre (which we found to be closed that day!)

Dad taking in Notre Dame (with Block S 'Spartan' hat on).

Tom-foolery and camera nonsense with kid-brother.

Water and kiddos are a good mix.

Paris with Parents (and Kid Brother)

2011-12-30T15:22:00.001-05:00

Hope you had a Happy (as the Brits say) Christmas, gentlereader. We've been busy with my folks and kid-brother here. The boys have been happily spoiled with presents, attention and good food so I reckon they have been having a pretty sweet holiday. They'll be on break for another week, which makes Eli very happy, Bruno ambivalent and me extra tired.

My folks, brother and I went to Paris a couple of days after Christmas. We took the high-speed train and were there in just over an hour. Amazing. Apparently, three out of four of us snored while napping on said train...

Paris was cold and foggy, but we managed to see quite a bit of this and that, thanks, in part to a hop-on-hop-off bus. It being my second visit, it just really illuminated for me how very much of Paris I have still not seen. I started a mental list of places I would like to see while visiting with Tony, on some day in the future, that is much, much warmer.

The first day, we saw the city by bus, walked a bit and reveled in the beauty of Notre Dame. We bussed some more, then took the metro back to our hotel. Funny thing, our metro tickets from earlier in the day were expired... but we didn't know that as the turn-stile excepted them. We only figured it out when we took the train, arrived at our destination and tried to exit through the turnstiles. No go. We had to 'turn stile jump'. Pretty wild and crazy for a couple of senior citizens, I'd say.

For dinner we had over-priced Vietnamese food.

The next morning, it was revealed that dad had been sick all night (from the over-priced Vietnamese food) and was still feeling so badly that he had to sit out of our day's plans. (Sad sigh on his behalf) So, mom and D and I headed out to the Louvre on our own.

It was pretty amazing. We saw the Mona Lisa, of course. David even jostled through the crowd enough to get to the front and snap a good picture. We also cruised the 19th century French paintings, Egyptian art and the gift shops. I picked up this book and this book for the boys.

We headed back to look in on dad. Now, checked (kicked) out of the rooms and convalescing in the lobby. Then we left him, again, and went for Vietnamese food, again. This time it was pho and it wasn't overpriced and it was delicious.

Mom went back to keep dad company and dad pleaded with D and I to go to the top of the Arc de Triomphe. 'For him,' he said. Our hotel being spitting distance from The Arc, we did. There were a lot of stairs. I felt a bit winded, but little brother was laughing at me, so I kept moving. The views from the top were awesome. Awesome. Drat the fog that kept a third of the Eiffel Tour obscured, alas! But otherwise, awesome.

D and I did a bit of window shopping on the Champs de Elysee then headed back to the hotel in time to hop in a taxi and take off for the train station.

Then, a train back to Brussels, on which three out of four of us snored, again.

Yawn.

2011-12-20T20:11:00.000-05:00

It is 1:51 AM as I start this post. That is way too late for me to be up. Typing. Coherently.

So, why am I up? Cookies. For Bru's school Christmas party. They gave me the option to send in allergy-free treats for Bru but what did I do? I responded saying, 'hey, how about I make B-friendly cookies for everyone.' A wee bit earlier in the evening, I started these cookies. And, apparently, from being tired from staying up way to late last night, I botched the math on doubling the recipe and ended up not doubling the flour. Thus, I've been up fixing them, baking them, cooling them and packing them.

(And eating them.)

While a batch was in the oven and I was waiting 'em out, I took some photos around the house. I could have been doing something necessary and productive (a to-do list which is quite long), but didn't. Opting, instead to take pictures of:

1. Empty boxes. Tony is known in the mail room. We have been royally spoiled by family who send us care packages while we're overseas. The pace and generosity have only picked up pace since the holidays began. Tony brought home SIX boxes today, by train and bus. In the rain. (My hero!) Boxes full of gifts (except the "Pull-ups" box. That actually had Pull-ups in it.) that made me feel overwhelmed and a lot loved.

2. Gifts for Eli's classmates. I made origami boxes out of Christmas scrapbooking paper and Eli helped count them out, line them up and add tiny treats to each. He was careful to put one silver-wrapped Euro chocolate and one gold-wrapped Euro chocolate in each. Then he scooped 1 tsp of Christmas M&M's into each box and added one dragon sticker. He was so meticulous. It was cute. Then Tony corrected my attempt at a message and I wrote up little scraps that said "Joyeux Noel de ton ami Eli!" and tied them on. Eli can play Santa Claus (or Sinterklaas or Sant Nicolas) tomorrow.

3. Christmas tree with gifts a plenty.

4. Wreath, revolved. Wreaths here are bonkers expensive. I found a teeny-tiny wreath that was in my price range, but held it up in front of my door and laughed out loud. It was about as big as the door-knocker and ludicrous for it. So, I revolved the wreath and hung it in the kitchen with five food-themed ornaments. A mini Christmas food journal, taco, spatula, retro mixer and sushi roll!

5. Cookies. Don't really want to see (or eat) any more of them...

All-Things Christmas

2011-12-15T14:56:00.000-05:00

Gentlereader, how close we are to Christmas! The absence of snow, all-Christmas-tunes-all-the-time radio stations, the fact that the majority of our Christmas items went to long term storage (instead of coming here!) and other less definable details have had me struggling a bit to feel the Christmas spirit.

Or, maybe it is that I am feeling it a bit differently. Now that I have recovered from the initial shock of being able to put up all our available Xmas decor in one quick evening, I am thinking 'hmmm, kind of nice keeping things simple...clean up sure is going to be a breeze...' Also, kind of nice, not being bombarded with non-stop Christmas advertising. Kind of nice not having to scrape our windshield/shovel snow/salt our sidewalk/plot the most-likely-plowed route.

Kind of nice.

And truly, there really are plenty of Christmas things going on all around us. One really lovely tradition is the Christmas villages that have popped up all over Europe. People go to shop and socialize and drink warm wine and eat all sorts of decadent goodies. Bru and Eli have both had Christmas events. Bru's school held a Christmas show two-days running, and Bru was a cute (squirmy) little tinsel-wearing angel. He didn't sing or dance with the other kiddos, but he did clap enthusiastically every time the audience did. I couldn't stop smiling.

Eli's little 2-class schoolhouse had a Christmas party tonight. Tony was at an event and had to miss (but it was okay, I ate his cougnou and mine), but Eli, Bru and I enjoyed. The teachers played hostesses and served us the traditional breads, juice and warm wine. It was fun to see the other kids greet Eli by name, then to see them running together in the darkened schoolyard while the other moms and I shook our heads and smiled together. It was really fun to hear Eli shouting "Une, deux, trois!" with the other kids as they counted off before starting another race.

And, the house is starting to look, feel and smell seasonal. We have cut paper snowflakes on the windows, lights on our live 19 Euro Ikea tree, a Fireman Sam advent calendar that loses a chocolate each morning, Christmas songs on a playlist, revolving batches of cookies being baked and frozen for holiday happenstance, boys in warm Christmas pjs and a growing pile of gifts under the tree.

Wow, those gifts. Folks back in the States have been very generous. Eli's questions gift-related questions have increased in direct proportion to the size of the pile, it seems. "Who has the presents?" "Are there presents for Eli?" "Where are the presents for Eli?"

Last week, the boys and I were invited to celebrate the season at one of Eli's classmate's homes. The family is Finnish and Australian and hosted a handful of families to try out hot, spicy glogg (pronounced "gluerg", come to find out). Even a non-alcoholic version that Bruno refused and Eli enjoyed.

The Christmas break won't start for the boys until the 23rd. And on that very day we will be welcoming much anticipated guests from home!!! That will definitely make the season complete!

Snowflakes, of the paper variety.

A frog sous-chef makes cookies.

Eli and classmates at the holiday party.

The much-loved Madame Ludivine.

Christmas market hustle and bustle at the Grand Place.


More hustle and bustle, and happy imbibers (all before 12 noon).


Champagne 8 euros, 6 oysters 9 euros, foie gras 9 euros.


Eli experiences the Christmas market with his brand new giraffe hat as constant companion.


Festive window display at a chocolate shop.

Holiday wishes.


Ice skaters at the seasonal rink at the St. Catherine's market.


Even a ferris wheel.

They Call the Whirlwind of Disaster: Bruno

2011-12-07T07:26:00.001-05:00

Bru's special one-on-one teacher was sick today, so Bru stayed home with me.

I had been invited to have coffee with a new Greek friend, and upon announcing to her my change in plans she warmly invited Bruno along. She didn't know better, but I did. And I really should have begged off.

But no, I took him along with me, packing all sorts of things to keep him busy. Posting toys, photo books, snacks, the iPad. (It's not the first time I've done this. Maybe I was getting cocky, but I sure thought I knew what I was doing...)

Our new friend has a lovely, sunlight-filled apartment with a white leather couch that just manages to look modern but not stiffly so. The rest of the apartment followed along those same lines. Real fir tree with glass ornaments. Nice plates set out on tables. Glass bowl filled with glass ornaments. A few collected items on side-tables. All really inviting and warm. But you know what? I had scarcely a moment to enjoy the clever space before my black-belt-in-Bruno instinct took over and had me scanning the room for accidents waiting to happen. Sigh.

I'm tired of not having adult coffee and conversation. Instead, holding up a 'hold that thought' finger to the other adult while darting after Bruno, arms outstretched, teeth set, trying to ward off mischief and/or disaster. I know he's just a kid. And I know I am really whining here. But, in the hour and a half that we were there, he got into the pantry and snatched up assorted cookies and crackers (dropping crumbs all over the floor, of course), opened the apartment door and made a break for the elevator, took a bite of the delicious home-baked cranberry walnut tart-and spit it out, poked his finger into the warm-from-the-oven tiropita, broke the head off of a ceramic Santa Claus and broke her teenage daughter's mirror.

One that was sitting next to a curling iron and obviously got a lot of use. Thanks for having us. Here's seven years bad luck. If you believe in that sort of thing. If not, uhm, that's good. Here's your broken mirror.

Sigh.

Sigh.

Sigh.

Sigh.

(Lots of long-suffering sighs in me right now. This could go on forever. Just saying.)

You know, our new friend was super, super warm and her responses so relaxed that it really made me believe that she wasn't stressing the chaos. I even, amazingly, believe that she really meant it when she said we should come back again for coffee next week. But, I would also completely understand if we never heard from her again. Ever.

And you know what, after all that? She sent us home with a full plate of tiropita. Very little of which is left, given that I consumed a few, flaky savories as an antidote to depression, frustration and angst even as I was bundling a wailing Bruno into the car and driving away. And you know what? I think, between the confessional opportunity presented in this blog and the delicious feta-filled pastry, I really do feel a bit better...

2011 Sapin de Noel

2011-12-06T15:54:00.000-05:00

Bru wonders how this tree came to grow in our entryway.

But not for long.

Voila! The Hendon Family 2011 Sapin de Noel!

Accounting & Appreciation

2011-12-05T16:32:00.002-05:00

Bru's-bday-breakfast. Ikea with iPad.

Dearest Gentlereader,

Bru's birthday came and went. He is officially five years old. Kind of anticlimactic after all the weeping and everything, huh?!

The absolutely fabulous part about this birthday was the support from family, friends, friends-of-friends and veritable strangers in response to our shout-out for New Delhi's Action for Autism. We had 63 comments (some were multiples from the same comment-er, but we are not going to split hairs...). Lovely comments. Encouraging comments, remember-when comments, even 'mischevious' comments ("Anything to break Tony's bank. Happy Birthday kiddo!")! What is more, a handful of folks committed to matching our donation and a couple of family members contacted us quietly to pledge $100 donations. Amazing, this generosity. This love.

All told, we can feel really deep-in-the-marrow good about having raised almost $500 for the center. Truly, the thought of that giving makes us feel warm and happy. The goodness of the people in our life awes us.

Sometimes we wonder, how is that we are so disproportionately fortunate? Did we somehow happen to corner all of the best of mankind in our corner? Hoping there isn't a dearth somewhere else in the world, for it...

So, thank you gentlereader. Thank you. We head into the holidays with grateful and softened hearts.

Tony, Christene, Bruno and Eli

In Honor of Bruno: The Best Kind of Giveaway

2011-11-30T19:41:00.001-05:00

Back-in-the-day. Four months old and having a ball.

These days. (And still having a ball).

Two days to Bru's birthday finds me in my usual way. Weepy. I get looking through old photos and next thing you know, Tony enters the kitchen and sees me crying over the laptop.

Our own kiddos' birthdays are emotional events, no? So much to process, so many goals and plans and reckonings and triumphs and struggles--and all of that suspended in a big, fat state of incredulity: how did they possibly get this big, this fast??

He'll be five this year. Five. A scary number for me because it represents so many milestones in my American cultural mindset. It makes me think of leaving toddlerhood behind and becoming a child. It gets me thinking about kindergarten and reading and starting in a local soccer league--the sort where the whole darn cutely-jersey-ed team chases the ball en masse, bumping and tumbling like Weeble Wobbles. It makes me think of shoe-lace tying and bicycle riding. Shared projects, chore charts and teeny tiny fledgling sums of allowance.

Except we're not there yet. We're here. Seemingly miles and lightyears away from all the typical goals, cultural and developmental, that other five year olds are working on.

The toughest thing when I get thinking on this trajectory, is to turn my attention and energy to focusing on the Bru that Bru is right at this moment. So occupied making comparisons that I lose a center of celebration and forget just what a clever, delightfully quirky and warmly affectionate son our Bruno-boy really is.

So, for the next couple of days, I am going to try to buck my typical pre-birthday trend and instead steer my mind and heart toward enjoying the boy in all of his almost-five glory. I'm sure the universe (et al) won't mind if I take a couple of days off from worrying, right?

I've gotten a bit off task with this post. I had intended to roll-out to you, gentle reader, an opportunity to support a worthy autism organization just by leaving a comment. In honor of Bru's fifth birthday, we are looking forward to making a donation to Action for Autism the National Center for Autism in New Delhi, India.

There are many, many hardworking autism organizations, but we have chosen to support this one because we know our money and other contributions can really make a difference here. When we are at a point at which we had the unshakable sense that there was something different about Bruno, this is where we first went. (Yes, we were living in Delhi at that point.)

Our medical unit hadn't heard about it. Tony found it by researching on line. So, we took Bru with us and in that old, sad-looking building, he had his first assessment.

I remember thinking, as we passed other kids in the halls that Bru couldn't possibly be autistic because the other kids there were so severe. When we received the report (a really solid, well-written, aptly observed report, in retrospect) we saw the words in black and white for the first time: autism.

And life became even more less-ordinary than it was before.

This organization doesn't have nearly the sort of funding it requires to do the sort of autism work India desperately needs. But they are working hard, and we want to support that.

So, for every person who comments on this post in the next five days, we will donate $1 to Action for Autism.

By all means, encourage others you know to leave a comment. A lofty, pie-in-the-sky goal for a humble blog such as this but I think we can raise at least $100. And, in the extremely unlikely event that this were to go viral, the worst-case scenario is that we would really get a chance to support them.

And for those of you who crave a little more direction, you could comment: (1) with the name of someone you know/love who has autism, (2) about a best-birthday memory or (3) about who/what brought you to the blog in the first place.

Desserts for a Crowd

2011-11-30T10:53:00.000-05:00

I am a little in shock that Thanksgiving is now water-under-the-bridge and that tomorrow is the start of 2011's ultimate month. We are still trying to make our way out of a haze of round-robin illness that fells one family member then moves on without any compunction whatsoever to fell another. I hope we are coming out of that for a while. I'd really like to get out of the house (without the sound of hacking and coughing from two backseat carseats, that is).

As I mentioned, our plan for a big, sit-down Thanksgiving dinner was scuttled because Eli had bronchitis. And by the time Saturday came around, Bru had gotten the cough, congestion and fever. Our plans for the evening of desserts with the neighbors was very hit-or-miss. We decided to go ahead with it, and I'm so glad we did.

First, we joined our neighbors for their belated Thanksgiving "Feastdown". It was delicious, and Tony and I enjoyed it in rotation. I went over first with Eli, then ducked out mid-way so that I could watch Bru and Tony could eat. While I was at our house, and Bruno laying like a sad, sick little lump on the couch, I put the finishing touches on the dessert table, loaded up the coffee makers, etc. Then, just before the designated time, I whisked Bru upstairs to his room with a babysitter. The iPad...

The neighbors came over post-Feastdown and three other couples on the block joined us. Between the three latter couples, over 100 years of life-on-this-street was represented. Amazing. They told us how, upon moving in, there were no roads and other houses. They were out in the country and this area was a big endive farm! We Americans present tried to introduce them to the wonders of American pumpkin pie. There was some reluctance, I'll admit. It's so commonplace to me that I'd never looked at it through other eyes. It is a bit strangely colored and squidgy looking. At our urging, they served themselves teaspoon-size bites and chewed delicately, consideringly. Having already presented it to a Brit earlier in the week and experienced her thoughtful sampling, I ventured to describe it as something like a 'pumpkin custard'...

Despite the fact that I don't believe my pumpkin pie made true-believers of any of our neighbors, I do think it was a nice evening. Eli was in high spirits with kids to play with and benevolent older neighbors offering him gifts of candy. Tony had a chance to converse in French. I had a chance to play at being a hostess-with-the-mostest. Even Bruno appeared from time-to-time, fuzzy-headed and in pj's with the iPad under his arm, to steal a cookie before being chased back upstairs.

Coffee and tea in the Polish pottery from my engagement party.

Tony's dad's cheesecake recipe (with a Speculoos crust).

Ta-da! Pumpkin pie.

Best-ever (and Bru-friendly) ginger cookies.

Pumpkin tiramisu. Really, really good...but apparently I was the only one who thought so...

Post-party, Tony found this on the candy plate. This was not a favored flavor, it would appear.

Still...Thankful

2011-11-24T01:53:00.000-05:00

You never know when One of Those Weeks will arrive, completely unannounced on the doorstep of family life. This week imps of inconvenience in their many forms, singled out Familia Hendon.

For example:

Bru's PECS backpack and PECS binder have temporarily (I hope?!?!) disappeared at school.

Eli is now, thanks to a major laundry mishap, the owner of the pinkest pair of Buzz Lightyear undies ever seen.

I spent a good couple of weeks thinking that maybe I was pregnant. (Not though, come to find out).

Molasses is uncommonly difficult to find on the local market, thus rendering a couple planned Thanksgiving sweets 'up in the air'.

And, the two fell-est blows of all--Eli has developed bronchitis. Apparently, he is pretty stinkin' contagious. Thus, Thanksgiving plans have been scuttled.

In spite of all of that, somehow, quite inexplicably, I am feeling thankful.

Things could be worse. Have been worse. Are worse for so, so many people around the world. For all the messy qualities of our life, we are still incredibly blessed people. Freedom, resources, education, tirelessly supporting and loving family and kick-ass friends.

So, here I am, sitting at the kitchen table while the house is quiet and the sun not yet risen and I. am. thankful.

Thanksgiving Countdown

2011-11-21T06:56:00.001-05:00

Thanksgiving is just about here. I am pretty excited. For the day-of, we will be hosting two families and a co-worker of Tony's. This may be the most international Thanksgiving we have ever hosted. Off the top of my head, I can think of at least six languages spoken by the guests. Including English, thank goodness. Should be a lovely evening.

We'll do the Big-ol'-traditional-meal. Tony with the turkey (he's the go-to person on the turkey), mashed potatoes, gravy, soft rolls, stuffing, peas and mushrooms (or Brussels sprouts, haven't decided...), a gingery cranberry chutney and a first--a butternut squash and sage lasagna as the main for a vegetarian guest. Desserts, of course--pumpkin pie, molasses cookies (Bru-friendly), pecan-pie bar cookies.

Speaking of desserts...we've invited our neighbors to join us on Saturday for some Thanksgiving desserts. I'm really excited about that. And really scared. Why would I offer to host our older, kids-out-of-the-house neighbors for dessert when 3/4 of our family does not speak any of the official languages of this area? A few reasons:

1) I've got to do some things that are challenging and scary. I worry maybe I'd yawn, yawn, yawn and then simply fade away if I didn't, from time to time.

2) The neighbors I talked to have never experienced Thanksgiving. I was hoping that was the case. Then, they won't have any idea if I miss-the-culinary-mark on my pumpkin pie, etc...

3) Folks have been so nice to us. God bless Madame Alice next door who never shies away from trying to converse with me, even though it involves much pantomime, Frenglish and quickly attempted, then abandoned subjects. I want to say 'thank you' in a heartfelt manner.

4) I want neighbors to know us. This is the not-altruistic part: I want folks to know who we are and watch out for us. Especially Bruno. Heaven forbid he should ever wander away from home. I want him to be recognizable and cared for (in whatever degree people are willing to care) on our street.

I'm not sure how many folks will come by. One of our neighbors (the oldest--the original house on the block) said in the kindest way possible, in English, that they wouldn't come because they didn't speak English and were too old. (Smiling.) I hope they do the unexpected and come, anyways. The more the merrier, after all.

Bruno's World

2011-11-14T04:01:00.003-05:00

Trying to keep things balanced, following the word-y post with a picture-y post. These are photos from 'Bruno's World', so to speak.
If you want (if you dare) you could look at these pictures while humming the tune to "Elmo's World." (But I seriously suggest otherwise. That song really gets stuck in your head. You'll be thinking of it all day. You may be thinking of it right now. Sorry.)

Gross motor skills? Strong. Climbing a rope ladder to a crow's nest while eating a baguette? No problem.

Speaking of eating. Bru climbed up on the counter and dug off the top of my mini banana chocolate breads.

...even though he still had bread on his plate. Just goes to show that apparently no one likes the 'stump'. Remember this Seinfeld episode?

Lots and lots of images, selected, printed, cut and laminated for a TEACCH-style daily schedule.

I LOVE this happy, smiling face.

He LOVES to climb. Everything.

A Time for Testing

2011-11-11T13:25:00.001-05:00

If my last post, with less words was just too, painfully, brief for you, then this post is certainly just what the doctor ordered. It is quite long. And not one picture can be found, anywhere, within it. (If the previous post struck you as just-the-right-length, perhaps you may want to leave now?)

Wednesday, Bru and I went to see a specialist. The system here seems to be different than the U.S., because she didn't have the title of "doctor" but is, as she described it, functionally, an educational psychologist. We were put in contact with her some two years ago when Tony first got his assignment to Brussels. We emailed her over that time with questions, and she emailed us back with thoughtful responses and referrals. Wednesday, was our first face-to-face meeting.

I am a little dazed and a little ache-y sad, after that appointment. Not because she wasn't a great specialist. To the contrary, she really, really got Bruno and was really clear and effective in her communication with me. Not because she didn't do a fabulous examination. Quite to the contrary, I was surprised by how much time she took to do a thorough review, even giving Bru his first measurable cognitive development testing. It was the results of that testing that make me a little sad, actually.

Up to this point, doctors and such in the States have been saying that Bru is too young for psycho-educational testing. Okay, we were busy with testing and evaluating everything else, anyways. But, not doing that testing was a nice mental escape in some way. I could tell myself that despite his non-verbal and behavioral challenges--he was secretly a genius, trapped inside his own little body. The results of the testing belie that, and how. And now, I don't have that misty hope of mind-bending genius to daydream on.

To be fair, the doctor (I can't help but call her a doctor. She really knows her stuff.) emphasized that with autistic kiddos the non-verbal cognitive testing doesn't at all accurately measure maximum levels of development or IQ, rather it can ascertain the absolute minimum levels of development a child has achieved. So, I guess we could think something to the effect of, it didn't measure how smart Bru is not, rather it measured at least how smart he is right now. Crude, crass and awkward term "smart" to throw around, I know. I know "smart" is more than just the results of a test.

So, the testing. The doctor brought a suitcase-sized wooden box and opened it to reveal that it was full of smaller wooden boxes. She selected this box and that box and cracked the first open to reveal a blank plastic board, upon which she placed three red tiles in a pattern. She gave an identical board and three tiles to Bru and asked him to copy the pattern. Immediately, it was clear that the toughest aspect was going to be getting him to sit down long enough to even try this not-favored work.

Up he jumped. We directed him back. Up again and circling the table. We directed him back. He tried to place his tiles on top of the model unit. We cleared it and asked him to copy it again on his board. Up he jumped and over to switch off the lights. Lights back on, we directed him back. He sat down for a minute and, writhing and whining in his chair, slapped the tiles down haphazardly with eyes gazing in another direction.

We ended up going to incentives (piece of chocolate, moment to play water in the sink, chance to take off his socks, eat some grapes, etc), reminding him "First work, then treat." He got the concept, and worked, off and on, jumping up to trace a route around the room between activities. And the activities progressed to include other visual spatial projects such as grouping in themes, completing half pictures by placing the missing half, matching color and size patterns, etc.

At the end of the evaluation we went back to the waiting room. The doctor called us back to talk some twenty minutes later and this was what she said:

She reminded me that the testing wasn't necessarily showing his maximum level of development, but that it was pretty accurate at showing at least his minimum level of development. She said that she scored it very strictly--saying that maybe he was tired, bored, hungry, etc--but that none of that was certainly known to her, so she did us no favor by softening the scores.

The non-verbal developmental age she put out there was disheartening: two and a half.

Two and a half.

While he could do lots of things that a typically developing two and a half year old couldn't do, he was deficient in some of the base cognitive areas that a child of that age should definitely be able to do. Then she presented the IQ with which his test results correlated. Fifty.

Fifty.

I don't even hardly want to talk about that. I know better. Fifty is really low. It is the level to which antiquated medical terminology used to assign painful labels such as "definite feeble-mindedness," "defective," and "moron."

Again, I know better.

Despite the part of me that wanted to discredit this doctor and any standards that would measure my kid at this level, I left the appointment fully in her camp, in agreement and ready to do some work. This is why--she cut through all of the uncertainty of what the numbers represent of Bru's actual intelligence and said "Bruno's behavior is getting in his way."

Bingo.

She rightly pointed out that the things Bru is good at are the things he actually has an interest in doing. When it comes to doing things he doesn't want to do, he is pretty disinterested and quite inflexible. It is impossible to get any more representative measure of his ability and intelligence because he can't/won't sit down for long enough to even to try the tasks.

The best part of the meeting was that the doctor helped me define priorities. They included scheduling appointments with a neurologist, physiologist and speech language pathologist. And my number-one home school priority: to try to teach Bruno to work.

The first thing I thought of when she said that was 'hey, that's exactly what my mom has been saying all along.' Funny, huh, how sometimes moms (especially the twice-over sort) know in their own intuitive terms exactly what it takes a specialist years and years of education and training to diagnose.

Lest you think the doctor waved good-bye and shooed me out of her office after handing down that directive, I will assure you that she gave me some very concrete ideas about how to work on working. I think they are doable, and actually remove a lot of the guilt, stress and pressure I have been carrying on what to-date is looking a lot like failed homeschooling.

Luckily for you, I won't be describing those activities. I will instead end this message and let you get back to your own T-G-I-F lives.

2011-11-09T04:35:00.000-05:00

Hello, gentle readers. Today, I am going to try and keep it brief. "Try" being the operative word, here. Maybe you've noticed? I'm kinda' wordy...

To help me keep it short (thus allowing me to focus more time and attention on the rest of today's non-blog life) I am going to try and practice what amounts to 'good-enough' blogging and keep the remainder of my commentary to ten words, or less. (Though, 'less' is less-likely.)

Fall color is upon us.

Mr. Cavin (and Sunshine) visited. The boys loved them (obviously).

Sunshine and I went to a local flea market.

There were lots (and lots) of books.

And the saddest-looking bear, ever.

And boxes of old keys, coins and other junk.

We ate delicious (!) frites with various sauces.

The (graffiti) eyes have it.

We sampled local beers (but not all in one sitting).

Tony saw Jesus (or Darth Vader) in his mug.

Eli helped drive our carriage in Bruges.

Wonderful Wednesday

2011-11-02T10:01:00.005-04:00

Our great friends have come in to visit from Sarajevo. We have known them since our first post and loved them from the start. So, indeed it is a wonderful Wednesday. Also, the air is crisp and clear and autumnal and Eli is taking a nap for the first time in four days, so what's not to love??

Here is a collage of graffiti photos I've been meaning to share. These colorful and dynamic images were painted on a pedestrian underpass near the mall. Amazing, really.

Hendon Halloween 2011

2011-11-01T18:21:00.000-04:00

Halloween is over and we still have (slightly picked over) treats in the bottom of the bowl! Over the weekend we attended a 'Trunk-or-Treat' at a US military installation. Eli went dressed as Bob the Builder and Bru as a train engineer. And, yes, both definitely got into the candy-collecting spirit!

Eli was so agog at all the costumes, decorations and hub-bub that we had to prompt him, from time-to-time, to keep walking forward. He'd just stop, looking around, eyes wide open and mouth agape. His most memorable moment of the night was when we came upon a Star Wars themed car. Eli immediately recognized Darth Vader. Darth Vader immediately tried to use The Force on Eli. Eli immediately ran in the other direction. And would only accept candy from the costumed Princess Leia while making the widest-possible arc away from Mr. Vader.

It was nice celebrating a fun kid-centric holiday with other people who appreciated the fun of it. My prior conversations with the international parents of Eli's classmates and acquaintances at the park were turning up the same sort of skeptical and critical responses, to the tune of 'not our tradition', 'an American export', 'just a commercial holiday.'

At a certain point, that started to wear on me. Why was it okay for everyone to be so openly dismissive of an American tradition? Nobody was critical when I said we were celebrating Diwali the week before. It sure seems like celebrating aspects of other cultures is regarded as open-minded and tolerant, but that the transverse is the case when it comes to treatment of American traditions.

Okay, now I'm off my soapbox.

On the actual night of Halloween, neither boy was really in any mood to put costume on and troop out, so we stayed indoors and handed out candy. Eli, in particular, loved to help with candy distribution.

I'd estimate we had about 40 trick-or-treaters from 6pm-9pm. Half of them were older kids who, once the door opened, would howl and make creepy noises and faces while demanding candy (bonbons). The other half were the age range you expect in the States, though most of all their costumes were along the spooky themes (witches, monsters, ghosts, etc.). None of them knew to say "trick or treat", though a few responded back with great gusto after I prompted them. Instead, most of them chanted something about "bonbons" that I didn't really understand....

It was a fun, relatively quiet evening. We were quite charmed that our older neighbors Msr. Gerard and Mdme. Alice darted over to deliver candy to the boys. Very sweet of them, and for a tradition not their own.

Bob the Builder and a Train Engineer with a sweet tooth.

Pumpkin gut-removal lasted with Bru for about 5 seconds.

Eli, however, was elbow-deep into squishy pumpkin guts.

Hendon pumpkin #1

Hendon pumpkin #2

Halloween: Art

2011-10-31T11:35:00.011-04:00

When Jack-o-lantern-ing, some of us carve triangle eyes, the easiest possible squiggle for a nose and a smooth, toothless grin for a mouth.

Others of, us--the singularly clever and utterly unique sort, like our friend Mr. Cavin, carve masterpieces...like this one:

To see more of his Halloween art, click here.

Baby Surprise!

2011-10-27T13:43:00.001-04:00

Babies! Two of them! As far as we can tell...

Not mine (Silly).

One of Tony's Black Mollies isn't just fat, apparently. She is pregnant! We saw two this evening, but a quick read-up online leads us to believe that she could deliver up to 80 (EIGHTY) little live Mollies. Though, 40-50 (FORTY-FIFTY) is more common. Uhm, whew...?...

We read on and were respectively delighted/horrified to find that mama Mollies will eat their 'fry' unless separated from them.

I'm sure you can guess which of us was delighted and which of us was horrified by the idea of a mama fish cannibalizing 80 (EIGHTY) but probably only 40-50 (FORTY-FIFTY) of her young.

And lest that individual give the other individual grief, post-posting about negative portrayal, we will point out that said individual takes no delight in cannibalizing. Rather, said individual (rightly) worries about the practical challenges associated with up to 80 (EIGHTY) but probably only 40-50 (FORTY-FIFTY) fish suddenly appearing in the family aquarium tank...

Diwali, Doctors & Drawing

2011-10-25T07:25:00.002-04:00

Don't you just love it when circumstances conspire to allow alliteration? Quite obviously, I do.

Today I am dishing on Diwali, on doctors and on the results of the drawing we did for a Belgian candy carepackage winner.

First, Diwali.

Hindus (and Hendons) are going to be celebrating the Diwali holiday this week. It is a festival of lights and is for Indians like Christmas is for Americans (and Europeans, etc). In India, the holiday is celebrated with new clothes, copious amounts of food and unceasing fireworks. And, my favorite part, people line their homes and property with tiny oil filled bowls called diyas. The memory of lit diyas flickering in the night on roof-lines and walls around our former New Delhi neighborhood will always make me wax nostalgic.

This year, we celebrated by having some friends over for an Indian feast! We found an amazing Indian grocery store and were able to stock up on all sorts of must-haves including bindi dots, two giant bags of deep-fry-and-eat samosas, cans of coconut milk, packages of paneer, various spice mixes and a couple of boxes of fresh and locally made Indian mithai (sweets!)

It was really nice to have dinner with friends. Dinner with friends with equally energetic kids. Dinner with friends who, too, were accustomed to breaking off mid-conversation to mediate a squabble, then picking up easily as conversation resumed.

Believer it, or not, Eli had a good time shopping at Ideal Cash & Carry.

Rows and rows of curry and spice mixes.

My best attempt at making a rangoli (albeit, with sidewalk chalk).

These cute kurta'd kiddos look positively conspiratorial.

Now, on to 'Doctors'. I took Bru to see a child psychiatrist this morning. This will be one of the doctors helping us manage Bru's care and assess development etc, while we're here. The hospital that we visited is a Dutch hospital, but thankfully all of the staff with whom we spoke were strong English-speakers.

But, English signs... not so much.

Read a book as we wait? Maybe not this time...

Now, in case you were interested...the winner of the 'Halloween' candy giveaway. I was tickled, positively tickled, to see how many gentle readers commented. I was flushed and giddy and channeling Oscar-winning Sally Field, "you like me..." Tony was a grounding influence (think, 'lead balloon') and reminded me that it was only 20 comments and got me thinking that hey, maybe you all just really love candy. I suspect that may be true, but am grateful for the ego-boosting attention to the blog, anyhow.

Okay, because I am a bit of a squish, I couldn't bear to draw just winner. So we drew two! Drew two the old-school way.

Bru drew a orange piece of construction paper with the name "Theda" on it, and Eli drew a another orange piece with the name "James" on it. So, there you have it. The winners are: Theda and James. I will be in contact with you two for addresses and to ship off your loot.

Not to rub it in to the rest of you (not-winners) or anything, but I bought candy last night and was incredibly embarrassed when it came time to offload the contents of the cart onto the checkout conveyor. Not one item was healthy, and the looks from the sale-undies purchasing gentleman in front of me and wine-buying couple behind me made me worry they thought I was actually going to eat it all. Or worse, feed it all to my kids. (Nope, just to your kids, James.)

Bread & Jam

2011-10-19T17:13:00.000-04:00

'Ask, and you shall receive'...

Here Comes Halloween: A Giveaway!

2011-10-16T05:03:00.003-04:00

A towering Harry Potter "Hagrid" made of Legos, to lure shoppers into Cora's Halloween section.

Pumpkins, gourds and squashes at a road-side stand. (The front two pumpkins came home with us for jack-o-lanterns!)

Greetings gentle reader, I type this message from the kitchen table on what is shaping up to be the laziest of Sunday mornings. Eli and Tony are upstairs playing "Baby Jesus", Bruno is watching a YouTube video of Kung Fu Panda and I am sipping my morning coffee with soy milk...which I just bought from the Commissary yesterday...and this morning realized is four days expired. Alas.

(*Note, still consuming it.*)

Given the lazy start to our day, I guess I have just enough time to roll out a challenge to you, gentle readers. I am organizing our humble blog's first ever give-away!

Halloween is right around the corner, and come to find out that Belgians have caught a bit of the holiday bug (from the States, I imagine) and as of about 10 years have been celebrating Halloween. I get the impression it isn't as pervasive as in the U.S., but it is possible that our boys might get a chance to do some trick-or-treating in the neighborhood. We'll see.

In the spirit of Halloween candy-accumulating, we are giving away a care package of candy. And, in the spirit of being in Belgium, we are giving away candy that you find on shelves in local Belgian stores. Fun, huh?! Yummy, huh?!

Allllllllll you have to do is leave a comment on our blog.

Any sort of comment. Halloween memory, favorite sort of candy, best costume ever, etc, etc.

Now, I know some of you are quite at ease with commenting (hello, Joy), but I also know that leaving a comment is something viewed with some trepidation by other, stealthier readers. That's where the challenge comes in, I guess. I encourage any of you readers who haven't posted a comment to do so. It'll make a certain blog-writer's day, and you may just win a box of Belgian candy!

Just scroll down to the bottom of the post and click on the comment link. You don't have to log-in or have an account, or anything--you can leave a message under "Name/URL" or even "Anonymous", but don't be too anonymous or I won't know who to send the sweets to (and may just have to eat them myself...)

The small print.

Just leave a comment before October 23rd. We'll randomly select one winner and send out your candy with hopes it will arrive in time to compound the candy coma of your local Halloween celebration. Your odds are good (very good) of winning, as the readership of this blog is quite possibly in the-single-digits. You are so very welcome to share this opportunity with anyone else...or not, if you are bound and determined to win this for yourself.

Let's Swim

2011-10-13T06:28:00.001-04:00

This morning, I finally did something I've been meaning to do since we arrived here. I found a pool and took Bru to it.

Now, this city pool is 1 mile from our house. It has reasonable swim prices, wide open hours and clean dressing rooms (very important). It isn't overcrowded, rather tends to be frequented by lap-swimmers and school groups doing their weekly swim lesson.

We've been talking about pools and swimming since we arrived, fresh from daily swims during NoVa's 100 degree summer days. We've been talking about it and talking about it, and not doing it. You see, the spectre of squeezing into a swim suit is never an exciting proposition for me, but even worse than that, most pools here require guys to wear Speedos. Yep, Speedos.

A certain member of our family was not getting on that band-wagon.

So, I overcame my swimsuit reluctance and took Bru to the local pool. I brought all of the items we normally bring for the kiddos when they swim: swim diapers, diaper cover, trunks, sandals, towel, snacks... I guess I didn't figure any particular dress-code (beyond swim diaper) would apply to little ones. I was wrong!

We both needed to buy swim caps and Bruno was forbidden to wear his trunks. "No Bermudas," the guy at the desk said, gesturing to a sign with a picture of trunks and a big X through them. They offered to rent Bru a Speedo, but I passed...

Instead, he just wore his swim diaper and cover, and the bathing cap. He had such a good time swimming that he only pulled his cap off twice. Much less than I would have imagined. Wish I had a picture to show you how stinkin' cute he looked with the blue cap on his head and curling tail of hair sneaking out of the back!

Now, I am on the hunt for two pint-sized Speedos and someone who can talk the fourth member of our family into trying one out and joining our family in the pool. Let's swim!

School x2

2011-10-11T11:03:00.015-04:00

These brisk Fall days just feel like school days. The feel of damp air and smell of damp leaves brings back all sorts of schooltime memories--new clothes, backpacks, lunchboxes from the younger years, and cross-country invitationals, Homecoming activities and evening football games from the later years.

On this perfect Fall day, both boys went to school. Bru had his first day at a private British primary school accompanied by a personal shadow--a Californian with two boys of her own on the spectrum. He looked sweet with his shaggy, dark hair, tidy first-day outfit and huge yellow backpack. He was so excited when we arrived at the school that he pounded on the door until someone finally came to let him in! When I came to pick him up at lunch time, he looked nonplussed and was wearing a 'Good Job' sticker on his coat. The shadow said he had a great day and did all sorts of activities with his classmates: lacing, puzzles, play dough, running around on the playground. And she was nice about describing the moments where he pitched a fit as times when he was trying to "challenge them." Going on to describe those challenging moments as a positive sign! Well, good. More challenges are surely on the way...

This year will be a very, very interesting experiment in what it is like for family and kiddo when special kiddo joins a mainstream classroom. Stay tuned.

With the busy-ness of preparing for Bru's first day of school, I completely forgot that today was the day of Eli's first field trip. Yeah, Mother-of-the-Year material. It was a lucky thing that this morning's rain had me send him to school in rainboots--they came in handy on the muddy farm trek. Eli apparently had a very good time, and relayed with much dramatic inflection and and many emphatic gestures that he was almost bitten by a goat. Oh the farmyard drama! He also reported that he saw a 'real horse and a pretend horse' (whatever that means) and that he ate a sandwich on an indoor picnic. Cool.

Bru on his first day back to school.

Eli and classmates returning from the field trip.

The buddy system is universal.

Eli Sings His Hits

2011-10-05T15:42:00.001-04:00

Gentle reader, how lucky you are to be in on the screening of Eli's first 'music video'! A rudimentary, end-of-dinner sort of video, to be sure, but it will give you a sample of his repertoire. His influences include Johnny Cash and Elmo and the songs are 100% completely original.

So sit back and enjoy an acoustic medley featuring Eli's first four songs: "No Way Out," "When the Thunder Goes Away," "The Road is Hard," and "Don't Go Sleeping On Me." You'll be able to say 'you knew him when...'

P.S. If you're wondering why Bru wanders by, barely dressed, mid-video--it was unseasonably hot, he had been enjoying water-play, etc. Those are my answers/excuses.

Things We Do and Have Done

2011-09-27T06:08:00.003-04:00

Just curious...how is that we are already at the end of September? I'm not quite sure I remember summer passing us by quite so quickly. I'm feeling a bit anxious because I really had thought I'd have a lot more accomplished at this point in terms of Bruno's homeschooling. So far, I can't get past the boxes and clutter and constant to-do list. I keep telling myself that once I've created some order in the house then I'll start Bru's homeschool schedule. Something tells me that attitude may need adjustment or nothing (nothing) will happen on the schooling front.

We haven't been idle, though. Eli has been doing great at school. Today is a holiday for the French-speaking communes, so he is home with us, but daily he has been going to school with a good attitude. Yesterday, he stayed the whole day, 8:30-3:30 and his teacher said he was "perfect" (parfait)! He seems to really enjoy it, though his reports on what he did at school have been pretty vacuous. "I played farm animals." He says that everyday. As far as French acquisition is going, he is not manifesting any linguistic brilliance. Yet. When we ask him to say a French word he knows, he usually says "George Henri." The name of his favorite playground.

Bru started speech therapy yesterday. Unfortunately, his PECS usage has completely atrophied since our arrival, so we'll have to review the basics before moving towards more challenging (interesting) usages such as "I see...", "I feel..." etc.

On the verbal-side, though, I was awed to observe the therapist elicit great tries from Bru. She held up a toy and asked "What is this?" "Caoh," he said. Yup, it was a cow!

"What is this?"
"Chich."
Yup, it was a chicken!

"What is this?"
"Hohh."
Yup, it was a horse!

Pretty cool.

When we're not running errands, etc, Bru and I have enjoyed exploring our environs on foot. The boys likes to walk. If in the right mood, walks with Bru can be delightful rambles. (If not in the right mood, not so delightful, not so delightful at all). If time is not an issue, I let him lead and follow along, watching to see what strikes his fancy. Holes in sidewalk grates, low brick walls, mail box slots, tiny twigs.

We walk quietly, hand-in-hand, except for moments when I pull him to a stop and wait for him to look up at me and say "Go." At crosswalks, I point out the zebra-crossing and 'green walking man' light and we scurry across. When we see stairs, I wait until he says "Up", and help him bend his fingers to use his pointer finger to gesture upwards. When it is time to go down, we try the same, though "down" is much tougher for him, for some reason.

He's a walking man.

Elegant old doorknocker.

Turned a corner and found this.

Came upon this art installation as part of the Fetes Romanes.

This past weekend we drove an hour outside of Brussels to attend a steam train festival in a tiny town called Mariembourg. The festival was just the right size (small) for us and I think we all enjoyed the train ride through the countryside. Admittedly, some of us were more antsy than others... Alas.

Vintage model trains for sale.

Ready to ride (but Eli could use some floss, first, apparently).

Real thing!

Mama, Eli and Liza Minnelli really enjoyed the ride.

Ten Little Pish

2011-09-23T08:46:00.002-04:00

Tony has been waiting a long time to have another aquarium, the last one being pre-children. We have one now. The boys (all three of them) love it. Eli and Bruno have both pitched in to help feed the little fishies pinches of flaked food. Bruno says "pish" and jabs at the tank. Buster the cat is intrigued as well...but not in a good way...

Eli happened to become the go-to guy for fish names. As such, the fish are named:

Maido
Tolley
Loewy
Lohway
Mayno
Kaylo
Patno
Gaylo
Tandie
Dalla
and...Lyle.

Lyle, I named myself. Which is why it is the only one in the list that has a real name. That you may have heard before. In North America.

What's for Lunch?

2011-09-21T17:37:00.000-04:00

Once, many years after someone had initially met me, they confessed that their first impression was that I was a bit of a fancy-pants, city-girl. Yes, that idea makes me smile, too. I'm flattered that anyone ever thought I could pull off that sort of vibe. I was living in 'the city', so I guess that was true... However, I digress. That person then followed with 'and then I saw you eat and knew you were just like us.'

(I'm smiling)

I love food. Love food. I spend a great deal of time thinking about it, reading about it, planning for it, preparing it and eating it. We've been enjoying the flavors of Belgium very much as a family. Not all of us like the same things, but nobody is going hungry.

We've tried the Belgian meal moules frites (even Eli, who decided not to have another). We really have consumed many, many frites. With moules, and without. But almost always with mayonnaise!

Eli has requested more than a few times now a 'chocate wassant' (chocolate croissant). Tony has been out to lunches, events and et cetera and sipped champagne and eaten quiches. We finally figured out what a vol au vent is...as we had kept seeing it on the kids' menus. And every member of this family has had more than a few sandwiches. There seem to be a lot of sandwiches and hedges, but that has nothing to do with food...

Delicious sandwiches. Tony's favorite from a sandwich shop near the office involves a half-baguette with ham, cheese, salad greens, sliced hard-boiled eggs, thinly sliced cucumber and shredded carrots (with mayo). Eli favors salami and cheese and tomatoes (with mayo). I like ANY kind of sandwich (and just had one for lunch and one for dinner) so long as it has the deliciously sharp Dijon mustard on it. Bru is a minimalist. He likes to deconstruct his baguettes, piece by piece, dipping each minuscule morsel into jam before tasting it. Sometimes he goes the savory route and dips in ketchup.

Tomorrow, we are testing 'uncharted waters'. Eli will be staying for lunch at his school. I think he'll like it. Apparently, at his school, they serve the children a small cup of hot soup each morning at snack time. The kids drink it/slurp it. Eli describes the soups as "delicious" but never can quite tell me what is in them. Another mother has helped me put clues together that lead us to believe vegetable soup, cauliflower soup, etc have been consumed.

Okay, so he likes the soup. Now for 'hot lunch.' The menu bears very (very) little resemblence to the lunch menus I brought home as a kiddo. At least, as described. I'll have to do a bit more digging to find out how fresh vs. processed the items are.

Tomorrow, Eli will be having split pea soup, pasta with beef (Milanaise...not sure if that will be ground, or a scallop, or what) and grated cheese with fresh fruit for dessert.

On the 12th, had he stayed, he would have had watercress soup, chicken/turkey sausage, salsifis a la creme (not sure...possibly a creamed herb/root item), boiled potatoes and chocolate mousse.

On the 13th: Celery soup, filet of grilled lieu (fish?), ratatouille, bulgur wheat and fresh fruit.

On the 20th: Cream of basil tomato soup, fillet of hake (fish?), broccoli with coriander sauce and boiled potatoes.

On the 21st: Leek soup, vegetarian steak (say what??), carrot, cauliflower and raisin salad with Thousand Island dressing, some sort of pesto and fromage blanc sucre (white cheese sugar?).

Eight Years (and One Day)

2011-09-14T16:17:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, Tony and I celebrated eight years married. (Thus, today we are celebrating eight years and one day).

Amazing.

What really stills my heart and brings tears to my eyes is how much has happened, how much has changed in that space of time. Really incredible all the corners of the world we have gotten to explore, the things we have learned, the experiences we have shared. The surfeit of undeserved blessings and enough challenges along the way to remind us that life is for the living.

I'd dreamed about and hoped for a life-less-ordinary, while growing up and moving out on my own. I'd say I really have that with Tony (and Bruno and Eli).

Such a milestone deserved celebration. So celebrate, we did.

A little table on the patio of a local brasserie. An unexpected snafoo on the Metro line Tony rides had caused service to be suspended and he had to hoof it. Thus, he got home late, and by the time we were out to dinner the sun was setting and an Autum breeze was winding sweetly and gently through the trees. The sun disappeared and the sky darkened, the sounds of rustling leaves, late-night birds and insects rose quietly around us. A pleasant accompaniment to the low hum of conversation from neighboring tables.

He had the steak and I had the risotto.

Just the two of us...

...oh, and a four year old who was hell-bent on posting items into the shrub behind him and a three year old who was dressed in a dog costume. Yes. A dog costume.

I defy you, gentle reader, to come up with a less possibly romantic dinner date!

But, for all the ways in which it wasn't a romantic dinner-for-two, it more than made up for in the ways in which it was an enjoyable (mostly, which is pretty darn good, by our standards) dinner for a family of four. Not at all a bad way to celebrate eight years together.

Second First Day of School

2011-09-12T11:44:00.001-04:00

Today was Eli's second first day of school. If you know what I mean. He was pretty weepy when I dropped him off, but was a smiley, happy fellow when Bru and I stopped by to pick him up at lunchtime! Teacher Ludivina (who Eli is calling 'Lilamina') said he only cried for just a bit, then got into the business of being part of the class.

Madame Ludivina said that he and the other English-speaking student immediately found each other and became buddies, chatting together about whatever-it-is-that-preschoolers-talk-about as they played.

Speaking of 'Madame Ludivina', it's really weird to refer to her in that way. She's young (or younger than me, at least) and can get away with wearing skinny jeans and deck shoes, which seem to be as much the trend here as they were in NOVA before we left. And she's easy going and friendly. 'Madame' sounds so formal and old. But, best that we be polite, no?!

I'm feeling cautiously optimistic about Eli's future at this school. We'll see how things go tomorrow...his first second day of school.

(PS. Sorry, no photos. My camera is broken. Major frowny-face on that.)

School Update

2011-09-06T17:53:00.001-04:00

Gentle reader, I realize I have kept you 'on the hook' about what we have decided to do about Eli's school. Sorry to make you worry (and thanks for those who communicated their shared burden-carrying. What empathetic souls you all are). Things look better, at this point.

We decided not to send Eli back. It just wouldn't have been a good fit, I don't think. The next step, thanks to our neighbor, who quickly relayed our story to the neighbor on the other side who had good suggestions, will be for Eli to try out a new school on Monday. The neighbor two houses down is a retired school teacher and she gave feedback on the school Eli started in (not-so-good) and guidance on which schools were considered great.

On Labor Day, Tony, Eli and I went over to the suggested school and met the headmistress. It was a great meeting. What is even more amazing is that Eli was an amazingly well-behaved angel, in his little striped polo shirt--scribbling on my notebook with colored pencils. Seriously, it was weird. In a good way. How can I replicate that on a more regular basis?...

We'll have to see how things go, but we are hopeful about this new school. The school has a main location with Maternelle (age 2-5) all the way up to Secondary and a second location with just Maternelle classes. The annex location is close to our house and is very small. Eli's class would only have about 12 students (!!!) Another plus is that his teacher recently spent about 6 months in the US and apparently has great English--helpful for Eli's communication and transition to school, French, etc and for my, er, distinct lack of French.

That's about all the energy I have for thinking, typing and being awake tonight! Tomorrow, bright and early, all of our household effects will be delivered. I am very much looking forward to it (kitchen gadgets, kids toys, warm clothes, photos and framed pictures, books!!). Tony, however, has expressed some reluctance as he reminds me of all the 'why-did-we-pack-this...why-do-we-own-this?' junk that will also be arriving.

I leave you with happier thoughts/images (though totally unrelated)...

The cake for Eli's farm-themed birthday party.

The tiny farmer did not appear to be gardening, as I intended. Instead, he appeared to be shoveling, uhm, you know what...

Found! Bru hiding behind the couch with the iPad.

Ostend Atlantikwall & Beach Day-Trip

2011-09-06T02:50:00.001-04:00

For the long Labor Day weekend, we took our first out-of-Brussels family trip. We drove about one and a half hours out to the town of Ostend (or Oostende, or Ostende, depending on which language you are using) on the coast. The Flemish Coast, we've seen it called. Nice that we could drive such a short distance and be somewhere so different, then be home back home by dinnertime.

We visited the Atlantikwall Museum, an open-air museum of displays and preserved bunkers, trenches, etc from the world wars. I figured that an 'open-air' museum was about the only museum we could accomplish with either of the boys...Turns out it was still a bit of a challenge as Bru wanted to run ahead of us down every path and through every dark and winding passageway. But, it was a really interesting historical location and much more kiddo-friendly than say, the Louvre.

The tunnels, paths, bunkers and trenches were maze-like and spread out under the dunes with egresses for escape and manning of large artillery such as anti-aircraft guns. For the most part there was too much focusing on the kids for us to really reflect on the place. I think such reflection would require some quiet. Hard pressed to find that with these boys around...But, from time to time, I would find myself wondering about the people (men mostly, I imagine) who had passed through these same corridors.

As we explored, it was so quiet and empty that it felt impossible to imagine the place in use and bustling. It was more emotional for it, I think. But then, Bru was shouting and running and we were off again...

After the museum, we walked over the dunes and down to the beach. It was cool and windy, so we had it almost completely to ourselves. The boys didn't seem to mind the cool and windy so much.

Pre-visit lunch.

Display in a museum building.

Pathways through the dunes.

A bomb-proof shelter.

Eli the explorer.

In the trenches, Eli on the lookout for Allied soldiers?

Anti-aircraft artillery.

A gunning station (and mama catching her breath).

Tunnels

Dad and the boys.

Home of Prince Karel (Charles), located on the property.

Prince Karel, himself.

The North Sea (Atlantic).

Cold enough, thank you. Time for blankets and a snack.

Eli's bread-pitching form. Take this, seagulls.

School, Part II

2011-09-02T06:40:00.000-04:00

Today was to be Day 2 of school for Eli. He had a pretty good time on Day 1, as far as I could tell. When I asked him what he did, he said he 'played and cried.' Yup, sure enough, when Bru and I went to get him for lunch yesterday, the other Maternelle kiddos were sitting in the cafeteria eating soup from Ikea bowls..kind of like little robots...but Eli was standing and sobbing. Tears running down his flushed and miserable-looking face. The teacher said he had just started, and Eli, upon cuddling into my neck said "I sad. I miss you."

We went home, by which time his spirits were fully restored and he suggested we picnic...from the trunk of the car. Okay. Why not? Weird, yes. Unsafe, not really. You can only really sit comfortably in the trunk of a compact car for so long before you get too big for it. I aim to please. Etc. They had fun. Even Bruno got into the spirit.

Parked picnic.

Where does he come up with these zany expressions?

Make yourself comfortable, Bru-Bru.

This morning, he was ready and willing to go back to school. We had a lovely walk over under blue, blue skies and bright, warm sunshine. A perfect start to a Friday school morning.

Upon arriving, Eli was hesitant. He dragged his feet. He hid behind the stroller. He scrunched his face up and made a thunderous and fierce looking expression with furrowed eye-brows. Bruno had no reservations about joining the throng in the schoolyard, and so leaped out of the stroller to climb and run. By the time Eli warmed up, it was apparent that they were a teacher short. Not his teacher, but one of the others. So, I stayed on, thinking I'd help out 'til the other teacher arrived.

But, the other teacher didn't arrive. So, it was me and three teachers and 40-some kids, age 2-5, on the second day of school. It was pandemonium. Some kids were playing well independently and with others, but as you can imagine, not all of them were. There was hitting and pushing, and wrestling over toys. There were little Chinese kids pantomiming to me that they needed to use the toilet. There was shouting and running and crying. Oh, the crying. This was the second day of school. There was much crying. One poor, sad sweetheart paced the whole time from one corner of the yard to the gate, whimpering. Another wandered into the school by himself and was crouched on the floor, crying and watching, away from all the loud. The worst of all was the lamb-y that was crying so hard as he lay down on his face in the yard, that he barfed, then continued to lay in it.

Sigh.

It was so loud that, after a half hour, Bru climbed back into the stroller, buckled himself in and rolled down the visor. There he stayed while I mediated with Eli's desire to play "bad guy" (don't ask) and interacted with as many other kiddos as I could entertain. (Thanks A. Vogelzang for teaching me that 'High-Five/Owwww!' trick. A dozen kids were in line, laughing, giggling and slapping me high fives.)

Sigh, again.

I guess this makes me a meddlesome, overly-attached, American mom. Guilty. I am that. Some kids might do brilliantly in such an environment. To be fair, I think such a large hoard of peers could teach Eli that he is one of many and that his needs must be balanced with the needs of others. But, on the other extreme. These are really, really young kids. This is definitely my opinion, but I feel that its my adult role to help play the supporting part of the conscience for Eli from time-to-time--to remind him that hitting hurts, that there are other options besides pushing/shoving over toys.

After an hour, I told the teacher that I was leaving. She was surprised when I said I was taking Eli with me. "Why? she asked, confused. "Because there are only three of you and all of them," I said, gesturing around the play yard.

What do we do next? I don't know. Thankfully, it is Friday, so we have a bit of time to think and make a less-rash decision. I entertained all sorts of thoughts as we strollered home. I thought of (unlikely) things such as homeschooling Eli, I thought of things such as enrolling him in the smaller (calmer?) Dutch public school. I thought of private school, then winced as I thought of the tuition...

Not sure what we'll do, but I want the best for our kiddos. Don't we all?

Maybe they won't see me if I hide behind the stroller.

Out, and having fun.

All still having fun, at this point.

Headed home.

Big Day Tomorrow

2011-08-31T16:54:00.002-04:00

I've long suspected that Eli is no longer a baby. I've found that he is quite on his way to growing up. Why, he tells me that himself on a regular basis. Not only that but he is potty trained. Not only that but now, when he 'helps', it actually is often helpful. Not only that but he is starting school. Tomorrow.

I know, tomorrow. How did that happen so fast, you may wonder. I wonder that as well, but am actually panning memories of him newly delivered and swaddled in those ubiquitous striped hospital blankets, him taking his first steps and saying his first words. You may not be going back quite so far...

Some of you know that we had been a bit worried about getting Eli into a local school. We did research before we arrived to know what schools were close, then arrived to find them all solidly closed-up for the August vacation season. Our emails and phone messages were not being returned by and large, and the ones that were being returned were to say that there were no available spaces. So, Tuesday (yesterday) I strollered the boys over to a local school and showed up in the office to check things out. It was immediately communicated to me in broken English-French that they had plenty of spaces for kiddos Eli's age and the teacher (who was, incidentally, helping us with the form) would be looking forward to seeing Eli on the first day of class. Thursday (tomorrow).

Amazing, huh. Way too fast for me to get it all straight in my head, or in my heart, for that matter. Our neighbor was awesome to watch the boys this morning so that I could head back to the school with a few more docs and a list of questions that Tony and Googe Translate helped me formulate. The director was there and answered my questions. Questions like:

How many kids would be in his class? (Hard to know, still accepting kids, but probably 20-25) With how many teachers/aides? (1 and only one)

What sorts of lessons would his age group be learning? (Colors, letters, socialization, basic memorization, rules, etc.)

Were they okay with him attending just half days? Especially in the beginning? (Yes, lots of folks did that at this age.)

What did they do for bad behavior? What was their standard for discipline? (Address the problem, label the bad behavior. Possibly a five-minute time out if the offense was egregious enough.

Would he be okay in terms of communication, since he doesn't speak French? (Yes! Usually other-second-language-kids at his age group were conversant in French within two months. His teachers could understand enough English to figure out what his needs were/address them.)

School, Sweet School.

So, tomorrow, Daddy and Mama and Bruno will walk Eli to school and settle him into his new class. He has already told me that he will cry. I hope he doesn't--it always makes me so sad to hear them crying as I walk (slink) away. I told him that as it is his first day, Bruno and I will meet him to take him out for lunch (many of the kids go home for lunch on a daily basis). He has requested sushi. I love that boy.

Paris: Notre Dame

2011-08-30T07:02:00.000-04:00

It's been busy in our household this last week. One of the very big highlights was the opportunity for me (mama) to get away from the boys and take a day trip to Paris! Paris!!!

Seriously, my greatest cultural reference for Paris of late has been the movie Ratatouille. I see that movie, or parts of it, at least once every other day. But, at some point in my life, before having ever reflected on the culinary aspirations of French rats, I did dream about visiting the ooh-la-la romantic Paris. So I went, (but without Tony-- so much for the 'ooh-la-la romantic' part) and wandered around for about seven hours, before heading back.

I saw all sorts of things, but am only posting photos of Notre Dame today, because it sort of seemed to deserve its very own post.

I am no history buff, but do tend to relish the quirky bits of history. What is truly, truly amazing to me is how very old the building (parts of it, at least) is.

It was originally built in the twelfth century. Twelfth century. I can hardly wrap my mind around that. After that point it met with destruction and damage a few times. Apparently in the 1700's, it was taken over during the French Revolution and dedicated to the Cult of Reason, being eventually used as a food storage warehouse!. And in the 1930's, they were afraid that Nazi bombers would destroy the stained glass, thus removed them until the end of the war. Interesting, huh?!

Happy. Birthday. Baby.

2011-08-26T19:31:00.000-04:00

Happy. Birthday. Baby.

Although, you don't like me to call you 'baby' anymore.

I try to explain that I mean it as 'a term of affection...endearment,' but you respond emphatically, "I not baby, I big boy." Or, sometimes, if feeling quite literal, with "I not baby, I Eli."

You've taken that stance a step further, denying all manner of labels in assertion of your true self:

"I not weetie-pie. I Eli." (Sweetie-pie, nope.)
"I not love-bud. I big boy." (Love-bug, nope.)
"I not mart-tootie. I Eli." (Smart-cookie, nope.)

An amazement, you are. Three-years-old, going on twenty-five. Curious, strong-willed, a natural leader. Imaginative, expressive, a real softy for animals and babies.

We are so (so) blessed to have just such a marvel in our lives, as you. You are mama's sweetheart and keep her sharp with endless questions ("Why water dripping?" "Why apple juice all gone?" "Why farmer drive Gator?"). You are daddy's helper and source of endless kid-tricks. He loves that you love Darth Vader, can sing "We will, we will rock you. Rock you." and that you can identify Churchill (Winston, that is) by photo. You are Bruno's best friend and tireless, unpaid therapist...except for when a quest for the same toy sets you up to be his greatest challenger and opponent. You are one interesting and memorable kid to pretty much anyone who meets you.

You are an amazement and we can't wait (can't wait!) to see how you grow.

Then.

Now.

Swim Little Fish! (A Video from The Vault...)

2011-08-24T07:37:00.001-04:00

This post is a 'blast from the (very recent) past.' I've been meaning to share this little video of Bru swimming all by himself!! No floats, no nothing! I am so proud of our little fishy.

We started to remove his swim vest for periods while we are at the pool, earlier this summer, and he took to it immediately. He seems to have a natural bent towards buoyancy. Something Eli does not have, at all. Also, Bru has little fear of the water. That fact has kept me up worrying some nights, but the more he learns to swim, the less I am paralyzed at thoughts of Bruno and his impulsiveness and un-planned-for and random access to water. He's not 100% yet, and definitely needs us actively (actively) watching him, but he is getting there. Now, to visit a pool near us and keep the motion forward-moving.

This Week

2011-08-19T19:44:00.004-04:00

This week we saw more rain, but some sun and warm weather as well. The boys don't seem to mind the rain so much, really. As you likely know, Eli loves umbrellas and Bruno loves puddles. Happy, wet little people, both of them.

Ready mom? You can get out of the car now.

We also did quite a bit more exploring by car. Yes, some of it was while lost. Yes, some of that getting lost was accomplished while using the GPS. Alas.

Uhm, yes...a left on Verheylewegh...

In other activities...we've consumed a lot of bread. How could we not? The fresh breads are amazing! The boys and I have been going to the 'hypermarket' (supermarket, that is) right at open-of-business (10am...which is actually closer to napping and lunching time, for us) and at that time we see the staff push many-tiered wooden carts out to stock the bins. The carts are loaded with golden-brown fresh baked loaves. Going early has also been a good time to seek the assistance of staff on how to shop. Even buying bread was not intuitive to me...

It took me a few timid loops around this bread area before I worked up the nerve to approach and attempt. Cowered by bread? Yup. As I've mentioned, this lifestyle is pretty humbling.

Giving up my pretense of urbane know-it-allness allowed me to ask an approaching bakery employee just how one did this sort of thing.

Apparently, you: (1) Choose your bread(s) of choice from a bin and grab a paper sack with a corresponding number from a nearby shelf.

Then: (2) Choose a bread slicer, open the lid, turn the bread upside down and place inside. (3) Close the lid and hit the green button. The machine shakes and hums a bit, then your bread starts to emerge, sliced. (4) You slide your bread bag over the little metal arm, for a minute, grab the sliced loaf and set it on the metal arm, shifting the bag over the entire loaf. (Then, if you are me, and have only ever used a bread slicer about three times in your life, all in the last week, you smile inwardly/outwardly, proud at your accomplishment.) Voila!

When we haven't been busy shopping for bread, we've tried to explore a bit. This Monday was a holiday, so we had a three-day weekend. One of the days, we drove out to see the Waterloo Battlefield where the French, led by Napoleon had been defeated.

It was raining. Our resolve was weak. We made a quick turn around the area, then returned to the car.

Bru acts as a sort of rain-hat-poncho-stole for daddy.

And, when we haven't been shaking rain off our coats or learning to use bread-slicing-equipment, we have been exploring our neighborhood. The local bakery is definitely worth visiting again. Maybe they can explain the mystery of the disappearing lemon meringue tart...

After spending all our money on groceries (bread, pastries and the like), there was naught by pennies left. A good opportunity to check out a holiday-weekend flea market.

Around Brussels, there are flea markets on everyday of the week. Some are more upscale--full of antiques and collectibles, some are food markets, some are really just 'other people's junk.' The one I visited was definitely that. Really, it seemed like blocks and blocks of garage sales. Worked for me. I love garage sales.

I found some items for the boys, including this cute Autumn-weight jacket for Bruno for 3 euros!

I also found this cute vintage linen made of two tea towels. One euro! I love the coffee theme. I especially like the last picture there. It's a picture of what I look like when I'm drinking coffee. Just kidding. My coffee is usually cold and clutched in one hand, while trying to break up a 8am wrestling match with the other.

I leave you with this picture because it makes me laugh. Oh Bruno-boy, you are such a sweet, funny little lamb. We spent some time at local playgrounds, including one that Bru really didn't much like the first time. On the most recent visit, as you can see, he seems quite at ease in his environment. Or not...

Have I Mentioned?

2011-08-13T16:47:00.001-04:00

Have I mentioned?...

...recycling is serious stuff here. We buy different bags for different waste. The white is for non-recyclable trash, the yellow for paper and cardboard, the blue for plastics and such, and the green for yard waste. I think...

Ready to recycle.

When in doubt, consult the provided guide for sorting and recycling.

...it really does rain a lot here. So far though, much of the rain has been on and off, on and off, on and off. With sun in between. Perfect for rainbows, such as this one.

Also, quite perfect for toddlers who just long to wield umbrellas.

...our first shipment arrived. We had partly forgotten what we had packed (!) but were happy to find completely essential items such as our immersion blender, laminator, 10 bars of soap, and jumbo box of 72 pouches of fruit snacks. Just kidding on the 'completely essential' nature of the listed items...with the exception of the fruit snacks. Those were/are completely essential.

...that milk comes in packages like this (also in plastic bottles, not pictured). Also all packaging has all information in French and Flemish. They aren't so big as the gallon jugs we get in the States. Between Tony and Eli (and with the aid of the Nestle Quick bunny), we are going through a lot of these little boxes.

I would like some 'Halfvolle melk', please.


'Melk' goes really well with Coco Pops, apparently.

...that voltage is 220V as opposed to 110 in the US. The plugs are shaped just like this:

...there are four levels in our house...thus three sets of stairs. It is a tall, skinny thing, in design. Apparently, all of the climbing at our third-story apartment in NOVA was cardiovascular preparation for this.

Nothing

2011-08-10T02:41:00.002-04:00

I typed that title "Nothing" with my tongue firmly tucked into my cheek. No American with the opportunities and blessings we have can truly say/write they have 'nothing.' Rather, I use the term, with your leniency, in a relative sense to describe what our lives feel like without all of the usual trappings arrived yet.

Both sets of grandparents (who helped us packout and get-out) and anyone who has ever relocated has a sense of how bare things tend to be on arrival to the new home. In our case, the only things we can truly rely upon bringing into the new place are the carry-on's. Thankfully, we have never lost any checked luggage in-transit, but I know plenty of families who have. Not fun.

The first, light, shipment of effects is called UAB (Unaccompanied Air Baggage...right?) and has a weight limit calculated based on the number of members in your family. Our UAB will be delivered this Thursday, hip hip hooray! The rest of the items that we are shipping--literally they are making their way slowly by ship, are estimated to arrive around the end of August. That shipment is referred to as HHE (Household Effects).

So, till those belongings start arriving, we are operating with less. Nothing...in comparison to our regular, over-stuffed lives.

The house is furnished, so we are good on beds, drawers, appliances and the like. And, we were delivered a 'Welcome Kit'. The Welcome Kit is a curious thing. Chock-full of what are deemed to be the most necessary and basic essentials. There were bedding sets, an iron, shower curtain & rings, a set of kitchen knives, four plastic cups, dinner settings for four, a toaster and (thank goodness) a coffee maker, as well as other items. Looking at ours got me thinking about what Welcome Kits for people locating of other nationalities/cultures might look like. A rice cooker and chopsticks for Koreans? Wine glasses and a cheese board for the French? The cheekiest of generalizations, I know, but you know what I mean (without taking offense), right?

But here's the thing about living with things so bare--it's kind of nice. Not for the long haul. But for the time being, there's something really nice and manageable about only having four plates and four bowls and four cups to wash. Only having a few suitcases of clothing to launder is also very nice, though I haven't been successful at staying on top of even that... It reminds me of a sermon I heard that talked about 'living within the margins'. That phrase really stuck itself in my mind and I've thought about what that means for the various aspects of life (financial, time and commitments, possessions, etc).

It really is a confirmation that we can do quite well with just a portion of the stuff we stockpile around us. In fact, before we left, my mom and I were talking about how stuff and stress seemed to have a direct correlation for each of us. Perhaps, causation, even. The increase in stuff seemed to cause an increase in stress. After all, 'with great stuff comes great responsibility' (the cleaning, the organizing, the maintaining, oy vey!)

So, for the moment, I am 'enjoying' the quiet, echo-y emptiness of our house and the fact that my domestic to-do list is relatively short. However, once our effects arrive and I rediscover items we've packed (that I had completely forgotten about), I am sure I will forget the lessons I am reflecting on right now. Maybe another three moves and we'll have learned that lesson for good...

Stuff...including dirty laundry.

Boys room ("Before" version).

Brussels-A Week Later

2011-08-07T16:25:00.002-04:00

This is one of those evenings when I sit down at the computer and don't know quite where to begin in updating all of you gentle readers, from whom I have hidden so long!

Let's see.

We got here on August 1st, and it is now the seventh. Okay, not so long as the calendar days fly, but we're absorbing so much information that it feels like a lot of time has passed. Every time we've moved to a new area (be it overseas or Stateside), we are humbled as we learn how to live all over again. Humbled in a good way. Helps us keep it real, I guess.

So much to try and convey, pretty sure I can't get it all in...before you switch off the computer with a wide yawn, that is. I'll hop around popcorn style and try to fill in the blanks as we spend more time here.

Our first impressions have been positive ones. Truly, after the first weekend in Delhi, we felt overwhelmed and I'd cried more than once. This relocation has been tear-free, for me, which says a lot. The boys, however do seem to be a little on edge. They are back to their regular sleep schedules (kind of), but they aren't accustomed to the new house, they are sleeping on scratchy 'welcome kit' sheets instead of their worn and familiar Cars sheets and, well the whole daily routine is different. It's tough on them, and they are definitely letting it show. Back in NOVA, Bru could rely on his daily and much-loved school schedule and Eli could expect to have mom (that's what he's calling me now, eegads) all to himself. All of that is up in the air right now.

Tony will start his second week of work tomorrow. Last week, he commuted via public transportation from the temporary house in the country to his office deep in the heart of the city. He took a bus to a tram (to a metro?) and I am mighty proud of him for figuring that out as all of the bus signs and schedules were in Flemish. Which, he doesn't speak. His week has been full of form-filling, box-checking and meetings and introductions. I used to do all of the admin stuff for the family when we arrived at post. I am so happy to not have that responsibility anymore.

Instead, I have been doing my best to keep the kids active and entertained. Or not fighting each other, at the very least. The temporary house was a bit tough because it was so isolated. With no car, I took to marching them out of the house each morning to grocery shop (just what we could carry back) and then to the garden shop next door to let them play with the bin of pint-sized farm vehicles they kept to entertain just such kids. In the afternoon, we walked a mile (a really beautiful, scenic mile) to a playground in the middle of the sleepy little town. We lucked out and had mostly all-sunny days, but I kept to the 'schedule' even when it rained--although the outing involved raincoats and umbrellas. One rainy afternoon we deviated from the plan and they played naked in the backyard. Tony would have had a heart attack, I am pretty sure.

Okay, anyone need a break? Might be a good time to check the baby (Subarna) or refill your coffee.

We are now newly into our permanent housing. I love it. We are in a row house between great neighbors. Our American neighbors are the really genuinely welcoming sort that you feel you could borrow a cup of sugar from, in your pj's, unannounced (let that be a 'heads up' to you, neighbors). They also introduced us to a lovely Finnish family that moved in across the street with two pre-school age girls.

This afternoon, I introduced myself to the neighbors with whom our house shares a wall. I met the wife, quite an older woman, as she was getting out of the car (yes, I spied on them from our kitchen window then ran down to intercept them. I brought them a basket of nectarines, so I hope that eased the aggressiveness of the approach). She was helping her even older mother out of the car. It was pretty interesting as we introduced ourselves and the neighbor explained that her mother was in her 90's and came to spend each Sunday with them. She said her mother often spoke about the American 'boys' who liberated Belgium during World War II. I smiled to think of how young she must have been at that time, seeing the American GI's so brave and heroic.

As we continued, our neighbor and I smiled a lot at our stilted communication--I spoke even less French than she spoke English. She volunteered the information that she was aware we had kids. A certain sign to me that our noise has made its way through our walls and into their living space. I did my best to apologize "Je desolee the noise" (totally incorrect way to say it, apparently) and gave her a note with our names and phone number, explaining with my only French phrase: "Mon fils est autiste."

My heart was comforted at the warmth and sincerity of her response. Even though it was mostly in French with some broken English, the eloquent gestures helped, and I understood: 'I'm glad you told us. So we know. He is a child and blameless. He can't help himself.' Then she offered 'if there was anything they could do for us...'

I hope we can keep that a positive relationship. Maybe as Bru gets settled and we form a routine. Or maybe just a lot of outdoor time...

Now for a few photos, then, I'm done.

Carrots and country walks...who knew they went so well together?

Carrot count at this point: three.

Too cool. Way too cool.

Stop. Breathe it in. Exhale.

Our new kitchen (I approve!)

Sand, hill and tubes at Georges Henri Park.

Bru wandering at Parc Malou.

Eli and a dog named Mascha play fetch (for about one hour).

Finally! (and Photos)

2011-08-03T06:28:00.001-04:00

We have Internet! (And feel a lot less isolated, for it!) I'll just post some of the photos we've taken in the last couple of days--so you, gentle reader, can see what we are seeing. Unfortunately, the photos from the trip out and first day are missing-in-action as one of the boys (and probably not the one you think) broke the screen of the laptop to which I had uploaded those photos. Knowing Tony's techie powers, they'll likely be recovered--and I'll post them then!

In no particular order...

The house we will be living in for the next couple of years.

Bru at the park behind our soon-to-be home.


Eli and Bru enjoy a rare non-wrestling moment of fun together.


Eli and our new neighbor are thick-as-thieves.


Beautiful old church, walking distance from temporary housing, in Brussels suburb Wossem-Tervuren.


Pretty horse in the field behind our temporary housing (Eli now says "we farmers."	).


Hungry, horsey?


But what does it all mean?


Bru and dad on a walk through Tervuren Park.


A Dutch-style building in the park.


Tervuren Park


The African Museum in Tervuren.


Eli and tall friend in the museum.


What does that funny, pensive face mean??


Lunchtime!


Eli in the back yard of of the temporary house.


Clover flowers (for the horses).


Swans and ducks at Tervuren Park.


A neighbor's hydrangeas.

2011-08-02T11:14:00.000-04:00

Still no Internet. These itty-bitty Kindle keys are not blogger friendly. If I'd texted more I imagine this would be no big deal...

Some tidbits and teasers for you:

Speculoos in a jar look like peanut butter, but are not peanut butter.
Eli is almost potty-trained.
Bru fed a horse.
Tony has used his French.
Cheese is really, really inexpensive here.
I have started reading the blog of the family we will be living next door to. After having spent a day with them,I have the sense that we will be fast friends. fabling.blogspot.com

Here!

2011-07-31T17:22:00.000-04:00

We're here! Cannot write too much as I am blogging from a ... Kindle... don't ask me how that works, I have no idea. Temp housing now, permanent house (and Internet!) on Friday. We are feeling pretty happy here, though jetlag has some (all) of us acting cranky.

We send our love to all of you, gentle readers, and exhort you to start planning your visit to us just as soon as you finish reading this post. Though, we would be in total undrstanding should you choose to actually visit after the family-wide crankiness has passed.

More Pictures

2011-07-25T12:14:00.000-04:00

Empty apartment? No problem.

Rolls of packing tape make great coffee cup holders.

Table provided by Victory Van Lines, chair provided by Tidy Cat.

Long To-Do list.

Grandpa Henning needs a nap (and so does Eli, though he resists).

Pictures. Because we're too tired/occupied/disorganized to post a message.

2011-07-22T12:21:00.000-04:00

Boxes and truck.

Box boy...and popsicle.

Box boy...with smile.

Guess the wrapped item.

Anyone for a rousing game of pallet bingo?

Welcome.

Good news: our shipment isn't overweight. Bad news...

Lifeguards? Czech.

2011-07-11T11:27:00.003-04:00

By far, our favorite family pastime of the last two summers has been swimming in the pool. For all the downsides of apartment living, a pool just down the stairs is the unquestionable upside.

Our apartment complex contracts it's life-guarding service to a company that hires from abroad on a type of summer 'cultural' (?) exchange. This company, at least for the years we've been here, has hired young, life-guard-ers from the Czech Republic.

Last year, we fell in love with the full-time guard, Ms. Camilla. Tall, skinny, enviably bronzed, soft-spoken and sweet as can be, we looked forward to seeing her daily. We had chances to sit and talk over the summer and became, in a way, friends.

She and her boyfriend Tony had both taken the exchange opportunity so that they could travel a bit and make some money. But, as far as I could tell, it seemed tough for them to actually experience much of the US as each lifeguard worked 10 hours a day, six days a week. And, on Camilla's day off, Tony covered at our pool. During the first week of swim season, I explained that Bru was autistic. Camilla immediately knew what I was talking about and watched out for Bru's in-and-out-of-the-pool antics with a gentle spirit. She even turned off the jets in the hot tub (Bru loves the hot tub) when we arrived, thinking the bubbles might overwhelm him.

This year, no Camilla (or Tony), but more Czech life guards. Our full-timer is John (Mr. John, Eli says). Again, lovely nice and soft-spoken, though strangely, the palest lifeguard I have ever seen. Kudos to him, in terms of skin health. When I mentioned to him that Bru was autistic, he replied, nodding his head, though his expression conveyed his questioning, "Ahhh, artistic." Thus began our comedy of communication errors.

On John's day off, another Czech lifeguard fills in. We haven't asked her name yet. She is of Camilla's ilk--long-limbed and European bronzed. Sweetly smiling, she announces pool breaks with phrases like "It is break time, if you please." One of our conversations went a little like this:

Me: How are you liking your time in the US?
Lifeguard: Oh, it is good, but I don't like the American lifestyle.
Me: Oh, why is that?
(interruption as I chase Bru down and admonish him to walk, poolside)
Me: Sorry, why was that again?
Lifeguard: Americans are so fat. They sit around and do not do anything. (this all said with no rancor whatsoever). They do not eat good food and are not active. Nobody is fat like this in my country.

I didn't take any offense (really), but I did start sucking in my gut as I tip-toed around the pool.

The latest in communications was an embarrassing one, alas. Pretty much, I never (ever) want to have to ever express the following again: "Chci mít jasno. Je mi líto, ale můj syn vyprázdnili své plenky."

Most unfortunately, Bru had an accident in the pool this weekend. Tony hurried him away and up to the apartment for a change, while I tried to communicate this to Mr. John. Mr.John nodded and said "Yeah. Yeah." Nicely, not really looking concerned at all. He assured me that it was okay.

This lack of concern made me concerned. I worried that he did not understand what I was saying. Tony said not to worry--he was sure he'd understood. I, however, was still concerned.

So, upon returning to the apartment, I put the phrase "I want to be clear. I am sorry, but my son has defecated in the pool," into Google Translate, then brought our Netbook down to the pool to show him the Czech translation. All the while, Eli was proclaiming to him in loud, clear tones that "Bru-bru went poo-poo in his diaper." The lifeguard glanced at the phrase quickly and couldn't stop laughing. He assured me he'd understood and had upped the chemicals in the pool. As I ducked away, embarrassed, he was still laughing. Then I came home, recounted the event to Tony, and waited, embarrassed as he couldn't stop laughing.

Photos From The Fourth

2011-07-06T00:31:00.000-04:00

The fireworks begin!

Please, no pictures.

Too loud!

Gentle reader, I hope you had a meaningful Independence Day celebration. Ours was, pretty perfect, as far as things go. Friends that we served with in Delhi, now living just across town, invited us to grilled dinner at their home--and to watch the fabulous City of Fairfax fireworks from their place.

Our friends have four (count 'em) four boys of their own and with our friend's brother and brother's girlfriend there as well, it was a full and happy house. Nine boys to three girls. A lot of testosterone. It was lovely though. Our friends really made us feel comfortable and were entirely accepting of Bru's idiosyncrasies, including his penchant for running repeated laps around and through the house. Ms. Jen even understood him well enough to discover that she had inadvertently played into his game by locking one of the doors, and she attentively continued to play the part when he ran up to her, eyes sweet and expectant.

Eli, on the other hand, was thick-as-thieves with the two older, elementary school aged boys. Very much to their credit, they let him tag along with good spirit and actually seemed to enjoy his company. Hot and sweaty by the time the sun fell, I couldn't help but smile as I watched him congregate with the boys in the kitchen to fill their water glasses at the fridge dispenser and gulp it down in thirsty swallows. He just seemed so grown up.

These aspects of our day weren't fancy, by any means, but they were priceless because everyone was able to enjoy the time together.

When the fireworks finally began, we headed out to the driveway. Tall, old trees blocked the view from that location, so we scurried down to the street where neighbors had already gathered together. We sat and watched the lights and colors paint the sky and I couldn't stop smiling. I remembered other, earlier, times when I had watched such displays with my parents and grandparents. And I thought about how blessed we were to celebrate our freedom. How grateful I was to be an American.

Food: Whole, Traded and Otherwise

2011-06-27T12:45:00.000-04:00

I just laughed my way through the Whole Foods Parking Lot rap on You Tube then smiled my way through the related If I Made a Commercial for Trader Joe's video. Both were recognizable, I squirmed a bit, then laughed (at myself). They got me thinking about our grocery shopping experience here in NOVA. Experience is the word for it as it (1) Happens to be one of the only proper chores that I tend to look forward to and (2) Folks seem to take their grocery shopping very seriously around these parts. Look out!

You'd be aghast to know how far afield we bounce in order to do our weekly shopping. I like to make excuses for that by pointing out that Bru's diet makes shopping a little more complicated. Not a bad excuse, as far as they go, no? The other excuse is that I know what-costs-how-much at each location, and, believe it or not, I actually manage to keep our food (including eating out, if I'm being good) under $100/a week. Given how much I like to eat...that's actually us on a food budget. We don't hit all of these shops every week, rather tend to stagger them as necessary, only doing one big shop each weekend and supplementing, as necessary with smaller excursions during the week. Again, before you freak out (if you, gentle reader, are indeed prone to that sort of thing), I'll reiterate that we don't shop at all of these stores weekly.

Whole Foods Market (.8 miles away) The go-to place for non-GMO, organic, local and alternative food choices. I love their customer service ethic--the floor staff are empowered to 'fix' any negative shopping experiences. For example, once I was chagrined at check out to find that the vegan chocolate chips I picked up were not on sale, just the regular ones that were completely out of stock. The baking-goods aisle girl insisted that I take a free bag on the house. I demurred, uncertain at this 'wild' gesture. Her manager backed her up. I accepted, with a smile.

Some of our favorite Bru-friendly foods can be found here, including sweet potato fries, coconut milk ice cream and snacks like pita chips and 'pop tarts'. We get the kids' supplements here--fish oil, zinc, etc as well as an occasional rotisserie chicken in their Peruvian, Herb or Original varieties.

Oh, they also have kid-sized shopping carts, which Eli insists on wielding (dangerously) around the store. It has been an useful prop for practicing 'right' and 'left', though. (As in, 'Eli, take a right at the gluten free aisle.')

Wegmans (1.7 miles away) Oh, Wegmans, I have loved thee since I first stepped through your doors. This grocery chain is a PA original that has spread to NY and VA, etc. They have a great range of high-end to in-store-brand foods, so I tend to be able to keep to budget when I can resist temptation. Oh, there is temptation--a lovely fresh bakery, a tea shop and natural foods section not to mention a sushi counter that I always eye.

Great produce and the deals are better than Whole Foods, so we tend to get the fresh stuff here (unless we'll be at the Korean market...see later). We have found pre-made Bru-friendly pizza crusts and flour tortillas here and Tony likes their store brand Mt. Dew equivalent "Mt. W" that is only 79 cents a two-litter.

One of the downsides of shopping at Wegmans is that it is totally (to-tal-ly) crazy on weekends. I avoid it like the plague. Folks that I am sure are otherwise really friendly (or maybe not...) are suddenly found muttering under their breaths, scowling at strangers and whipping their oversized carts around towering soda displays with terrifying road-rage attitudes.

Super H-Mart (3.3 miles away) This is the 'Korean' market. A huge grocery that really features Asian ingredients and staples. The deals on produce here can't be beat, not to mention the fact that you can find items here that are otherwise hard to find...Chinese chives, durian (if you'd want to find this!), star fruits, mini eggplants, etc. Also a fresh seafood section with scads of items including snails, eels and shrimp for $6.99 a pound (!). My very favorite part is the Korean food stalls around one side of the store. Sigh. So very, very tasty. Also, on weekends they have a whole legion of smiling Korean ladies with hairnets and plastic gloves serving up samples. Eli and I ate a whole lunch of samples one day, including noodles, steamed buns, fresh fruit, kibbley snack foods and green-tea ice cream.

Trader Joe's (6.2 miles away) Eli likes to come here to 'look for the monkey.' Trader Joe is apparently a monkey. The one at this location is small, stuffed and dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and hidden in varying locations. Eli likes to find it and hold it in the cart during our visit, turning it in at check-out for a lollipop. He once found Joe sitting on top of boxes of chicken nuggets in the frozen section. The frostiness of Joe delighted him. We can find a plethora (plethora, I say) of Bru-friendly breads here. Delicious, artisan, whole-grain, and hamburger buns!! Thank you TJ for not putting "and/or soybean oil" in everything. I also like their A Midsummer Night's Cream--it's just a lovely, easy-peasey body lotion for $3.99.

Aldi's (12.3 miles away) This is a long haul for us, so we only do a shop here when we're stocking up for the week(s). Joy got me into this store. Great value on foods, for sure. The vast majority of their products are their in-store brand (though sourced from larger brands), but they have weekly promotions on certain brand name items.

A couple of things here are different--but I like them. (1) You put a quarter deposit in to get a cart, and when you return the cart, your quarter is returned to you. I think that makes so much sense--no random carts in the parking lot, no employees out in a downpour rounding them up. (2) No credit cards--just cash, check or debit. (3) You bring your own bags/boxes and pack your stuff up. No problem with this as it helps keep overhead low.

Great customer service. I emailed their customer service address with an allergen question, to which they responded in 24 hours, promising that the producing company (Malt-o-Meal, in that case) would give me a call. They did that same day. Nice.

Here we can find Bru-friendly jerky, value size boxes of fruit snacks (32 packages for $3.60ish) a bag of lunchmeat for under $2.99 and frozen lunch meals for Tony for under $1.20. One downside is that their produce section isn't very wide, but I can find avocados here cheaper than any other market (including the Korean grocery).

Now, as a reward for actually reading this far (or having the thought to skip ahead), those YouTube videos I mentioned.

More Summer Vacation Photos

2011-06-22T17:45:00.000-04:00

Today's pictures from 'summer' vacation back to Michigan feature all the things and words and such that I recorded. Kind of neat how photos like these help fill in the background on the sort of experience we had and the tone of the memories we'll keep.

Sign we came upon when walking on campus. Ha ha.

The wonderfully quirky (and well-stocked) Curious Book Shop across from MSU.

Ha ha.

Lansing's renovated Ottawa Street Power Station makes the riverfront that much nicer.

Sign points to the brand new City Market building. Kudos Downtown Lansing.

Just a reminder, folks.

A fast pitch.

Fresh local strawberries to replace the pint-basket the boys had already finished off.

Random (and inspired) word art at Saginaw's impressive Children's Museum.

For sale at the Razz's.

Watch your step! Bru posted Tony's childhood Matchbox cars out the front door and onto the porch.

Clean, sun-crisp laundry.