You know you're in Belgium when....

A Danish friend of mine reported that one day he was taking the bus, the busdriver suddenly stopped, turned to look at his passengers and asked if they knew which road he had to take.... I kid you not! That has never happened to me (or not yet) I have given directions to the cabdriver on more than one occasion back home in Denmark but then again, my parents live in a maze of villas.
In Belgium everything gets served with fries, then again, why shouldn't it - they invented the grease soaked little buggers. And mayonnaise.... I don't mind, I actually like the combination but sometimes I miss a good baked potato or rosti's or just plain old boiled taters.
Everything is in at least two languages, French and Dutch and that includes the subtitles on the movies in the cinema, quite confusing to hear the language spoken in English and then rush your eyes to the subtitles and get confused twice followed by missing the next 30 seconds of the movie, having to read more subtitles so get what just happened but not understand it fully.... No need to say, I hardly go to the cinema, I'd rather stay home and read a book where I can turn the page back again if I didn't get it the first time.
Everyone is eager to help you with your language skills (or lack of) and will repeat a word multiple times to get the pronunciation right.... that's very sweet but sometimes my tongue just doesn't turn that way and that word becomes impossible.... much to their amusement. They do not laugh in your face, no they are rather polite people but they give you a knowing smile and a small suppressed chuckle - Dutch is NOT impossible to learn - just bloody hard!
When you around the 6th of December stumble across a thing called Sinter Klaes, when Santa comes by boat from Spain with minions (all painted black as the night) leaving candy and cookies in your shoe and instead of putting out milk and cookies or ricepudding as we do in Denmark, you leave a cube of sugar or a carrot for the white horse the Sint is riding on... oh yes, and all children who are bad, gets put in the sack and taken back to Spain. Of course the children also gets presents on Christmas but also on New Years....
When you have a discussion with your grandmother, trying to explain to her again where you live, that Holland and Belgium is not the same country, they are neighbouring countries and they have the same national language but both have their own government and different monarchs.
They use Azerty keyboards instead of Qwerty (which the rest of the world uses) It's only a few keys difference but dang it makes typing difficult.
I think I could continue for quite a while

I do not understand children...

Children are weird creatures if you ask me, they start out helpless, then grow and become more and more self-sufficient but if abilities fail, they are back at square one - or so it seems. My gorgeous bonus-daughter pinches the babypowder out of the changing bag and emptied it into her bed... why? She didn't know and I didn't know... the bed smells nicely but the sheets needs a wash (even though newly washed)
She was playing with the toilet brush, 'cleaning' the toilet and causing a small flooding of the toilet-room, why? She didn't know and I still don't know... I guess it was because it was fun, well, more fun playing (her) than having to clean up (me)
My son is happily playing in his pen but as soon as he sees me, he falls over, tumbles and doesn't like his toys anymore, stretches his arms out for me to come pick him up, why? He's too young to explain why the sight of me reminded him that he was alone and neglected.
And then there is the fight against Morpheus, always! every night! every day (unless we're out walking) He's so tired he cannot focus and his head keeps dropping, eyes are constantly being rubbed but no, we do not give up! We're stronger than him and we'll go down kicking and screaming - literally! It's funny to watch though, annoying to listen to and horrible dealing with but one day, we hope he's going to be like his sister who is a blessing (mostly!) when it comes to bedtime.
In general children are lovely, difficult, charming and pains and one day, when they have children they will understand what we went though with them.... just like we now understand what our parents went through with us.... is it called Circle of Life?

10 reasons Steve shouldn't marry me

None of us are perfect and I do believe that if either one or both were, we wouldn't be together :P

1) I do not wash his dirty clothes if they are not in the hamper...

2) Dinner is only cooked and ready for him when he gets home if I'm bothered (and have time of course)

3) I ridicule him, at home, in public, in front of his family and as often as I can

4) I don't feel bad if the baby and I take up all the space in the bad so he's left to sleep in Kate's room or on the couch

5) I am teaching our son to say 'Papa' so he will call for him at night and not me = more sleep for me!

6) I punch him at night when he snores and kicks him in the morning to get him out of bed

7) I have no problem in shrugging my shoulder when he mentions something that needs doing and replying: "Well, I haven't had the time..."

8) I tell him openly if I have a problem with him, his friend, his family but gets really defensive if he says something less than positive and praising about mine

9) Even though we're not married he hears "I am your wife - I'm the greatest good you're ever gonna get!" at least once a week.

and finally - the ultimate reason why he should not marry me:

10) I'd choose our son, his daughter, my cat or a chicken kebab (if hungry) over him any day of the week!

Baby food....

My mother is proud! Quinten will not eat the storebought baby foods such as fruit and vegetable so I have made all his food myself, ever since he started on fruit. I can see the benefit of making the food myself, I can avoid bananas which gives him constipation and I can make him try different fruits and vegetables such as papaya, mango, string beans, mushrooms (frozen) and so on. And no, I do not make him eat papaya and mushrooms mixed together, that would just be cruel.
Plus I know everything that's in the food, no added sugars and such... now here comes the other side of the story. My fiancé and his family seems to believe that it's better for the baby to get the storebought foods, the argument is that there are more vitamins and minerals in it - my counterargument is: what do you think they make babyfood from? and how do you think they make it last as long as it does? Steve normally doesn't continue the argument due to his final statement: "You're the one feeding him, I cannot control what you do when I'm a work!" Right he is.... and here should be mentioned that our son is happy, healthy and thriving so I guess I'm doing something right.

Bits and bobs around the house...

We live in a rented apartment and sometimes I wonder why we pay rent, there are a lot of things which should be fixed but the landlord considers it 'minor repairs' and therefore we should do them ourselves. Honestly, the kitchen window is unable to open to one side and the other one is hanging on by dear life. I have a hammer next to it for when it does not want to close and a knife for when it does not want to open.
Out toilet is leaking so we have to open the faucet every time we need to use it, not to mention remembering to close it again which is something I forget constantly much to Steve's annoyance but what does he expects of me, I have a child who seems to believe that once I go out the living room door I am gone and will never come back and I am certainly not going to bring him like my sister in law does.... I need some kind of privacy!
There are no lists keeping the flooring down and the gaps are a perfect place for dust to grow and expand. The connection point where the flooring was too short (which runs through the living room - right in the middle) is coming off the floor because the tape we used to put is down is wearing off and the dust is taking over, it needs some kind of seal and Steve promised to make it..... a looooong time ago.
There are drill holes in the ceiling from when he tried to put up lamps, they 'just' need a bit of filla and I'm too short....
I know I am able and capable to fix most of it, but I also know that men have some strange syndrome called: Pride

Back to school...

Starting to learn a new language at the age of 29 should be awarded a medal, seriously! Stuck in a class, twice a week for 4 hours with people of all nationalities and personalities takes the starch out of even the most patient person and don't get me wrong, is not referring to myself as patient. I might be a lot of things but patient is not one of them. Elementary school was bad for me, I was a nerd and a bit weird, Boarding school was evil because I was too loud and too hyper and High School was Hell - Simple! So my theory is the older you get the worse school gets maybe because your personality develops and you get to really find out how annoying other people are or your patience diminishes and imbeciles start to get to you.
I cannot believe how grown people, from the age of at least 20 and up, can think that's it's okay to just speak their mind, guess what the answer is as loudly as possible while answering their cell and chatting with the person next to them. I just don't get it. Respect for the teacher? None of that either... and normal etiquette? Out the window.... things like this annoy the hell out of me, I am no angel but I know how to behave and I disturb the class as little as possible ... no, I swear, really!
So maybe I'm not the one with the problem, maybe it's the others.... all of them!

About sleep and teeth and the couch

For the last couple of days Quinten have not slept well, he's got a bit of a blocked nose, teeth on the way (I think) and a bit of a flue so he's not feeling so well and cannot breathe properly. For the last two nights Steve has fallen asleep on the couch and only woken up at I had to go to the kitchen to make the little one a bottle and then decided to stay up since it was around 5 anyway. But last night I was up at 3 already to feed him and as Steve woke up he went to bed seeing that it was just too early to stay up. After the little one was fed I put him in the couch for a bit to make sure he was sleeping firmly before moving him into the bedroom but still he woke up quite a few times after being put in his own bed and apparently Steve woke up, maybe because I was cussing and throwing the covers to the side, quite annoyed with being woken up yet again again but also knowing that the little one does not do it to annoy me but because he's not feeling well.
The conversation this morning was:
Steve: "Aren't you tired?"
Me: "Not more than usual!"
Steve: "But he woke you up quite a few times!"
Me: "Not more than usual!"
He then looked at me strangely, looked about to say something before he changed his mind and went into the bathroom.
I think it was about time that he understood that when I say I'm tired because the little one woke up constantly I actually mean it.