We had a great time in Rome -- perfect weather, amazing sights and fun times with good friends. Sadly our friends Tim and Lynn are heading back to New York, but we have loved having them here in Brussels for almost three years. Kyle had a head cold for the whole trip, but he was as real trooper and still managed to see everything with us.
Click here for the photos. After you click View As A Slideshow, you can click View Full Screen if you want the pictures to be larger and then Options to change the speed of the slides.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
American Gladiators
We had a wonderful time in Rome. Unfortunately Kyle had a head cold the whole trip, but he was a trooper and stuck with us through all the sights. I am working on getting all the photos edited, but in the meantime you can enjoy my favorite one...
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Très Bien!
I made it! I have passed French 1.1 and am on to French 1.2 next week. This past semester has been the greatest example of what a good teacher and a good attitude can do. As you might recall, Kyle and I took 40 hours of lessons together in our first year here. In short, they were pure hell. I went kicking and screaming and came home crying. Although I am the more verbal of the two of us, Kyle is the more intelligent (at least when it comes to grammar) so obviously one of us was going to be the better student.
Our teacher would not believe us that we had never taken French before so in 40 hours we never learned colors or numbers, but for some reason we learned the word for foliage. Obviously on top of being awful the classes weren't even always useful. The whole experience put me off French for another two years. Truly, my stomach turned when I even tried to read something in French because it brought up such bad memories.
After three years I finally took the plunge and decided I was ready to try French again. Then God stepped in and gave me the best teacher of all time. Nancy is kind, patient, and funny. Our class is a wide mix of nationalities and everyone is in the same boat with trying to figure things out. I actually look forward to going to class and am sad when I miss it. Our whole class agrees that Nancy is the best teacher they have ever had. I feel bad for elementary school teachers because kids don't always know a good teacher when they get one. However, as adults we definitely know how lucky we are and what a difference one makes.
Sometimes I feel bad that I didn't take French earlier than this because I know it would have made a difference in my time here. However, I am also a firm believer that all things happen at the right time. Now is the time I actually enjoy it and want to learn rather than being forced to learn. If only all things in life would wait for when you are really ready for them...
Some other lessons I have learned in my life:
--Never tell a large number of people about something that you might fail at. I learned that one after I didn't make the cheerleading team in high school and then had to tell about 100 people I didn't make it. This is exactly why I didn't blog about my French test until I found out I had passed.
--Learning another language is hard and if someone doesn't speak your language they will probably have a look in their eyes like, "Please don't come and talk to me." I have had that look in my eyes for the past three years. When I was in the States for Christmas I saw a Hispanic woman at a Waffle House give me the exact same look. I never realized how pitiful I appeared until I saw the same fear in her eyes.
--Non-Americans think all Americans eat are hamburgers and french fries.
Now that I know a little French, we are off to Rome for the weekend with our friends Tim and Lynn. I guess that means that on Monday I will be mixing up English, French and Italian! Ciao!
Our teacher would not believe us that we had never taken French before so in 40 hours we never learned colors or numbers, but for some reason we learned the word for foliage. Obviously on top of being awful the classes weren't even always useful. The whole experience put me off French for another two years. Truly, my stomach turned when I even tried to read something in French because it brought up such bad memories.
After three years I finally took the plunge and decided I was ready to try French again. Then God stepped in and gave me the best teacher of all time. Nancy is kind, patient, and funny. Our class is a wide mix of nationalities and everyone is in the same boat with trying to figure things out. I actually look forward to going to class and am sad when I miss it. Our whole class agrees that Nancy is the best teacher they have ever had. I feel bad for elementary school teachers because kids don't always know a good teacher when they get one. However, as adults we definitely know how lucky we are and what a difference one makes.
Sometimes I feel bad that I didn't take French earlier than this because I know it would have made a difference in my time here. However, I am also a firm believer that all things happen at the right time. Now is the time I actually enjoy it and want to learn rather than being forced to learn. If only all things in life would wait for when you are really ready for them...
Some other lessons I have learned in my life:
--Never tell a large number of people about something that you might fail at. I learned that one after I didn't make the cheerleading team in high school and then had to tell about 100 people I didn't make it. This is exactly why I didn't blog about my French test until I found out I had passed.
--Learning another language is hard and if someone doesn't speak your language they will probably have a look in their eyes like, "Please don't come and talk to me." I have had that look in my eyes for the past three years. When I was in the States for Christmas I saw a Hispanic woman at a Waffle House give me the exact same look. I never realized how pitiful I appeared until I saw the same fear in her eyes.
--Non-Americans think all Americans eat are hamburgers and french fries.
Now that I know a little French, we are off to Rome for the weekend with our friends Tim and Lynn. I guess that means that on Monday I will be mixing up English, French and Italian! Ciao!
Saturday, January 12, 2008
The Sweetest Words
Thanks to Alan Paul for reminding about wanting to share this with you.
One of the best feelings in the world is when you go through customs after an international flight and the customs official says, "Welcome home." I don't think you can really grasp the full meaning of those words until you have lived away from home country for awhile. It almost brings me to tears everytime they say it.
One of the best feelings in the world is when you go through customs after an international flight and the customs official says, "Welcome home." I don't think you can really grasp the full meaning of those words until you have lived away from home country for awhile. It almost brings me to tears everytime they say it.
Friday, January 11, 2008
The Brussels Blues
This is my fourth winter in Brussels and all I can say is thank goodness for learning from experience. It is hard to understand unless you live here, but from about November to May Brussels is constantly under a low gray cloud. You can truly go days without seeing the sun. The best way I can describe the feeling is for you to close your eyes until they are almost shut and you just barely still get some light in them -- that is how I feel like I see the world here during winter.
For the past few weeks both Kyle and I have been in a bit of funk. Since we have been through this ever winter we've been here, we have at least stopped trying to figure out what set us off or why we are down. We chalk it up to the weather, put on a scarf, grab an umbrella and keep on plowing through life. I just feel bad for all those new people here who are wondering, "Why have I been so down recently?"
For the past few weeks both Kyle and I have been in a bit of funk. Since we have been through this ever winter we've been here, we have at least stopped trying to figure out what set us off or why we are down. We chalk it up to the weather, put on a scarf, grab an umbrella and keep on plowing through life. I just feel bad for all those new people here who are wondering, "Why have I been so down recently?"
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Some friends of ours recently told us she was pregnant. As she and I talked about what she was registering for she mentioned just how many things she feels like she should put down, but doesn't know if they are necessary or not. We both laughed about how when our parents were growing up parents would just put all the kids in the backseat sans seatbelts and let them have at it. Sort of like this: (from the blog below)
But one of my favorite bad mom stories is when our babysitter in the 70's was driving me and my 4 year old brother somewhere in her van and my brother was standing on the front seat. We didn't use seat belts back then. She did a u-turn and when we got to the other side of the street he was gone. Fortunately, he had fallen onto the grassy area of a sidewalk.
I will definitely strap my kids in, but past that, I kind of have the more laid back mentality about parenting -- if so many other people survived without having chairs strapped to the table then my kids probably will too (now we will see if I still talk like this once I actually do have children :).
This blog asked for people to share their worst parenting stories and there are some real doozies. I highly recommend reading them for a good laugh.
However, after all the bad stories that people wrote in, someone shared this and I think it is a great point. I see so many friends beat themselves up about their parenting and I think this quote should be framed in every house:
"The question isn't whether we're going to mess up our kids, but HOW we're going to mess up our kids. Our parents messed us up, their parents messed them up. Someday, our kids will talk about all the things we did wrong: did we pay too little attention to them, or smother them? Were we overprotective, or did we let them harm themselves? Were we too angry, or did we keep all our emotions inside and screw them up that way? Whatever we did, they'll deal with it. Just like we've dealt with how our parents raised us."
I am always a bit befuddled to think of how or why some memories stick and others don't. Sometimes when I babysit I bend over backwards to think of a really fun activity and then the realistic side of me says, "They will never remember this auditory/kinesthetic play time I arranged but they will probably remember when the cat jumped in the Christmas tree, it fell over, broke half the ornaments and I said a curse word."
Here is a great forward I saw on my friend Ali's blog:
I’m Invisible
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I’m on the phone andask to be taken to the store.
Inside I’m thinking, “Can’t you see I’m on the phone?” Obviously not; no one can see if I’m on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor,or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see meat all. I’m invisible. The invisible Mom.
Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this?Can you tie this? Can you open this?
Some days I’m not a pair of hands; I’m not even a human being. I’m aclock to ask, “What time is it?”
I’m a satellite guide to answer, “What number is the Disney Channel?”I’m a car to order, “Right around 5:30, please.”
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude -but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seenagain. She’s going, she’s going, and she’s gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the returnof a friend from England . Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a hair clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said,“I brought you this.” It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe . I wasn’t exactly sure why she’d given it to me, until I read her inscription: “To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.”
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths after which I could pattern my work. No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tinybird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, “Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.” And the workman replied, “Because God sees.”
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, “I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you’ve done, no sequin you’ve sewn on, no cupcake you’ve baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can’t see right now what it will become.”
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.
The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don’t want my son to tell the friend he’s bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, “My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.” That would mean I’d built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, “You’re gonna love it there.”
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we’re doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
But one of my favorite bad mom stories is when our babysitter in the 70's was driving me and my 4 year old brother somewhere in her van and my brother was standing on the front seat. We didn't use seat belts back then. She did a u-turn and when we got to the other side of the street he was gone. Fortunately, he had fallen onto the grassy area of a sidewalk.
I will definitely strap my kids in, but past that, I kind of have the more laid back mentality about parenting -- if so many other people survived without having chairs strapped to the table then my kids probably will too (now we will see if I still talk like this once I actually do have children :).
This blog asked for people to share their worst parenting stories and there are some real doozies. I highly recommend reading them for a good laugh.
However, after all the bad stories that people wrote in, someone shared this and I think it is a great point. I see so many friends beat themselves up about their parenting and I think this quote should be framed in every house:
"The question isn't whether we're going to mess up our kids, but HOW we're going to mess up our kids. Our parents messed us up, their parents messed them up. Someday, our kids will talk about all the things we did wrong: did we pay too little attention to them, or smother them? Were we overprotective, or did we let them harm themselves? Were we too angry, or did we keep all our emotions inside and screw them up that way? Whatever we did, they'll deal with it. Just like we've dealt with how our parents raised us."
I am always a bit befuddled to think of how or why some memories stick and others don't. Sometimes when I babysit I bend over backwards to think of a really fun activity and then the realistic side of me says, "They will never remember this auditory/kinesthetic play time I arranged but they will probably remember when the cat jumped in the Christmas tree, it fell over, broke half the ornaments and I said a curse word."
Here is a great forward I saw on my friend Ali's blog:
I’m Invisible
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I’m on the phone andask to be taken to the store.
Inside I’m thinking, “Can’t you see I’m on the phone?” Obviously not; no one can see if I’m on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor,or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see meat all. I’m invisible. The invisible Mom.
Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this?Can you tie this? Can you open this?
Some days I’m not a pair of hands; I’m not even a human being. I’m aclock to ask, “What time is it?”
I’m a satellite guide to answer, “What number is the Disney Channel?”I’m a car to order, “Right around 5:30, please.”
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude -but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seenagain. She’s going, she’s going, and she’s gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the returnof a friend from England . Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a hair clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said,“I brought you this.” It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe . I wasn’t exactly sure why she’d given it to me, until I read her inscription: “To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.”
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths after which I could pattern my work. No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tinybird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, “Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.” And the workman replied, “Because God sees.”
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, “I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you’ve done, no sequin you’ve sewn on, no cupcake you’ve baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can’t see right now what it will become.”
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.
The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don’t want my son to tell the friend he’s bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, “My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.” That would mean I’d built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, “You’re gonna love it there.”
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we’re doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
A fully functional closet
I came back from the States with so many great clothes that I have made a bit of a New Year's resolution concerning them. I realized that I have lots of good looking things to wear, but instead I always ended up wearing jeans. So for the past week I have been sewing buttons on pants, de-fuzzing sweaters, ironing shirts, and cleaning out drawers so that every single thing I have in my closet is fully ready to wear at any time. For the most part, I feel like Belgians always look really nice and "finished" so my new goal is to wear jeans less and look finished more. We'll see how it goes!
Today I helped a friend pack who is moving their family back to the States on their own (meaning without a moving company). I always seem to forget just what a pain moving is, but it only takes me about two minutes of packing to remember exactly how much I hate it. Helping him pack up was a good reminder to me of just how much junk we all have in our lives and how it can really drive you crazy when you are having to find a box for it all. Hopefully this experience will get me on a bit of cleaning/de-cluttering spree around here.
My friend Kelly had her fourth little girl over Christmas break. Dali was born on December 23 at 5:30 in the morning while her big sisters Sonny (6), Poppy (4) and Maya (1) were at home. Thanks to Kelly and Rich, I have been able to get a baby fix whenever I have wanted for the past three years!
Today I helped a friend pack who is moving their family back to the States on their own (meaning without a moving company). I always seem to forget just what a pain moving is, but it only takes me about two minutes of packing to remember exactly how much I hate it. Helping him pack up was a good reminder to me of just how much junk we all have in our lives and how it can really drive you crazy when you are having to find a box for it all. Hopefully this experience will get me on a bit of cleaning/de-cluttering spree around here.
My friend Kelly had her fourth little girl over Christmas break. Dali was born on December 23 at 5:30 in the morning while her big sisters Sonny (6), Poppy (4) and Maya (1) were at home. Thanks to Kelly and Rich, I have been able to get a baby fix whenever I have wanted for the past three years!
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Neighbors
I have gotten so used to having neighbors on all sides of us that I often forget what it is like to not have to be considerate and thinking about someone else every time you turn on the TV or radio. However, I sometimes wonder if our neighbors think about us. On the whole, considering that we are surrounded by four different families (upstairs, downstairs, and on either side) they each really don't make a lot of noise. But the people on one side of us have a child that got a drum for Christmas last year. Luckily he is in school most of the time, but when it is the holidays, we hear a lot of THUNK, THUNK, THUNK BOOM. However we have just reached a new low worse than the drums -- I was sitting at the computer and heard the person next door fart loudly three times.
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