Mama always said

If you don't like your dinner, breakfast will taste extra good in the morning..

I don't know what kind of mom you are, but my heart is not strong enough for this. For many years, I have cooked different meals for all of us. You don't like Brussels sprouts? I'll stir fry mushrooms for you. Don't feel like having boiled potatoes? How about mash or scalloped potatoes?

I'm not convinced this is the best way and I'm sure it will not teach my children to taste different foods. Making them eat things they absolutely despise, is not the answer either. I'm still traumatized by my mother's "hutsepot". Ugh! She would make me eat it for dinner. I would cry over it and she wouldn't let me leave the table until my plate was finished. By then, the "hutsepot" was cold and even more repulsive. Just the smell of it, made my stomach twirl. Then why did she expect me to eat it? I could never understand and up until this moment, I'm not going to eat "hutsepot". When she got sick of watching me sit there, poking the dish without eating it, she told me to leave the table. First thing I got the next day: exactly... the game started all over again, until tears rolled down my cheeks and vomit came up in my esophagus trying to get rid of that nasty stuff. I would constantly gag and the food would sting in my throat, in a desperate attempt to go some place. I wished I could disappear somehow or someone would call my mom, so I could spit it out. Her method obviously didn't work, on the contrary. I will NEVER EVER eat this horrible "hutsepot". I guess my children will never try it either. Is that so bad? Will they lack vitamins if they don't eat this food? Don't think so..

Then what is the best method? How do you make kids enjoy all kinds of food? By eating it yourself? I know kids imitate their parents all the time. So yes, my kids love frog's legs, they like shellfish and complicated dishes, they don't even mind spices in their food, but no, they don't like cabbage, turnips and leeks and all those snotty vegetables. They despise the rim of fat around meat and yes, just like me, they cut out the lean piece and give the fatty bits to their dad.
I make them eat veggies every day but they get to pick their own choice. Whether they have their greens cooked, steamed, baked, fried or even raw: I don't care! As long as they have veggies on a daily base. And that works well. If that means I have to make zucchini pancakes or spinach casserole: that's what I do. Cause in the end, we all want to have a good time around the kitchen table and we don't want to nag about food... 

The first kiss..

It's been a while. Let's say, it's been a long, long time ago. That first kiss. So important, so frightening, so grown up. I had been longing for that kiss, dreaming about it. Who would be the first  one to kiss me? What would it feel like? What was I supposed to do? I read about it in the teen magazines and I would close my eyes in bed and imagine what it would feel like..

He was older than me. I think he must have been my sister's age. I only remember his first name and that he was blond and tall. I didn't even fancy him. But he gave me my first grown up kiss. He had been drinking. The only thing I could think of was: I hate the smell of beer.. His tongue touched mine. I had never realized how big a tongue could be. How intimidating it could feel. That first kiss wasn't special. It was not a kiss to remember, although I never forgot. But it meant I entered a completely new world: the world of the kissers! Finally I knew how to kiss and nothing could stop me from finding another boy, who didn't drink beer and who wasn't that tall that my neck hurt reaching for his lips.

It feels strange to go back in time and recapitulate. I let former boyfriends pass my mind and I try to remember their kisses. Did you ever keep notes on boyfriends? You know, like giving them scores and stuff? I did!!! I honestly did!!! It was hilarious to say the least. I would rate them on kissing, appearance, .. I kept that notebook for quite a long time. When a friend in Portland, Oregon laughed at my notebook, I thought it was time to let go. I wish I could scroll through that book again, to refresh my memory and see if reading about those boyfriends would bring back memories. It would help me understand my daughters I guess...

I'm no longer 14. Being 41 is somehow different. You have passed the stage of discovering new things. But I believe one is never too old to kiss. Kissing is wonderful and very intimate. It's like going back to basics and being completely in love again. I love being in love. I love to kiss.

Is that alright with you?

If you are lucky, you have a parent-partner to discuss all of the children-issues with. It is important to be consequent when raising children. It is also important to have a broad mind and let others state their values. Your method could be as effective as mine or the other way around, or maybe there might be a third method that both parents can agree on. As long as there is room for discussion and consideration. We don't always have to agree, but it would be helpful if we could work something out between us, before the children come in. Raising children is not easy. Having teens in the house is a challenge. We'll get there, I just know we will. It will take some more discussion and we may need to listen to each other without interrupting the other so we can make ourselves understood. Children need freedom, to a certain extend, so they can learn and experience life. They do need some guidance as well, because some consequences of their actions are too hard to understand at such a young age. Sometimes children need to be protected from themselves.
Maybe I need to let go of the reins every now and then. Maybe you need to pull the strings every once in a while. I don't want to be the bad guy at all times. You can't be Santa every day.. The girls won't stop loving us for not getting all that they want.. We will always love them. That is the best present ever.

First Aid

No, don't worry. No ambulances or doctors involved this time...

Today, while I was driving my oldest daughter to school, we had this talk about medication. I don't remember how we got to this subject, but it reminded me of my childhood. In the pantry, there was a First Aid cabinet. Of course, we were not supposed to open the door to that cabinet without supervision, but we knew some things in there were pure fun. There was a jar, filled with black powder. That powder was called Norit and it was nothing else but activated carbon. It was there in case one of us had a mild form of diarrhea or some kind of poisoning. The fun thing about Norit was, that if you ate a spoonful of the carbon, your mouth, tongue and teeth would turn black in a jiffy. It had a strange taste to it and I can't say it tasted bad or good. It just tasted different and it looked very appealing. There was no chance our mother wouldn't find out, because of the black traces the powder would leave behind..
There was something else I really liked.. children's aspirin. The small pink tablet would melt in your mouth. It tasted sooo good! I don't recall the brand of the aspirin but I do remember the taste. I would easily eat a full strip of aspirin, just for the fun of it. I guess I didn't have much of a fever..

7 days in a week

Cracking my mind over the perfect Christmas gift for a 13 year old cousin, I was thinking about my own childhood and how things have changed over the years. Kids no longer play Twister on the floor in the kitchen or stick their tongue between their teeth while making their best drawing ever in their Moleskine sketchbook. Contemporary children look at you in a very strange way if you give them a CD or knitted gloves for those cold winter days. Times have changed and so have the presents. It's not real easy to make a child happy if you don't want to buy them the 34th playstation game or give them an envelope with paper money (I hate money envelopes - nothing personal about giving money). But then what do you give them?

Do you remember the panties, printed with the days of the week? There were 7 of them..  (this child probably lost one.. what a tragic moment). Each one had a different color and image and of course every single one said what day of the week you had to wear it. I loved those panties! They were awesome! I remember my set of Holly Hobby underwear and how difficult the day started if I couldn't find the matching pair of knickers. You just couldn't wear your Thursday panties on a Monday! That was simply not done. The knickers would come in a plastic see through package, with a snap button in the middle. You could see all knickers were sitting next to each other, showing the days in the exact order. I'm pretty sure my sister had a similar package of knickers, probably with other images. I don't recall this kind of underwear existed for boys? I could be wrong though..

Anyway, back to the subject.. I still haven't found the perfect present for the 13 yo old, let stand the 12 yo boy. I know they would rather have money, but hey, I'm not giving in! I will find that one present they have been longing for (without being aware of that craving). Maybe I need to do some shopping tomorrow. I don't mind you helping out though..

Welcome to the land of confusion

Being a parent is not always easy. Being a mom and a dad and stick together, makes it a little easier.. Having teenagers in the house, isn't easy. Having teenagers and collude as parents, makes it a little easier..
If only they would realize, we want nothing but the best for them.

Let's take the dogs and go out for a walk, to bring some clarity into our fogged brains.

There's a time and a place for anything

Being a teenager is real hard. You don't have a true identity yet and there are so many desires and wishes you want to fulfill. Being 15 is not like being 18. Growing up comes with responsibilities and getting privileges is not a one way direction. We need to find a good balance that all parties can be happy with. I know you compare with what your friends can do. We did the same thing when we were young. Some friends could go out later than we could. But we also knew that there were other friends who couldn't go out at all...

I was 18, the first time I could really go out. The plan was, to go to a New Year's Eve party in the pub just around the corner. I was totally excited about this night out. My friends had invited me over and I felt so grown up about going out. I even got a special outfit and new shoes.
Getting ready for the party, my mom told me I had to be home at midnight, 00:00 sharp to be exact. I was gobsmacked.. What did she mean, midnight??? It was New Year's Eve after all?? Everybody would make fun of me, for having to go home at such a ridiculous time..

I tried to talk my father into staying out later. He gave me that look, that didn't mean any good. He told me I had to be in by 00:00. There was no other option. I told him that the party wouldn't start till 00:00. I would miss out on all the fun. He answered me that I didn't have to go if I didn't want to. He had made his point: either I came home at midnight or I didn't go out at all. I was really upset but I knew his words where to be followed. I decided I was going to make the best of it. All of my friends were waiting for me to have dinner in the pub. We had a great time, laughing and being in each other's company. It was getting close to midnight. I kept looking on my watch - I had to be home in a couple of minutes. I didn't know what to do. Some friends dared me to stay later - others understood my dilemma and told me to go home in time. The countdown for the new year started and I kissed my friends good night. I opened the door of the pub, took a last glance at the people partying and ran home. By the time my key opened the door, I could hear the grandfather clock hit twelve o'clock. My mom looked at the clock, she looked at me and she went to bed. My heart was beating too fast, because I had run so hard to be home in time. I took a shower and got into my pajamas, reflecting over my first night out. I really wanted the night to not have ended that soon. But hey, I did have a great time. I had seen my friends, my outfit was great and we had enjoyed each other's company. It had been a night to remember. I can tell you, because 23 years later, I still remember how my cheeks were glowing with joy for that wonderful night out..

Dive in!

Photo Eva Joos

You and your daddy are going to spend some special time together. As a teen, your father used to swim a lot. It gave him his broad and strong shoulders and a straight back. And of course the V-shape all men want to have.

For a couple of years, you were in a swimteam too. And you were pretty good at it! I loved to watch you swim. The way your head disappeared in the water and how you gasped for air, your head turned to the left. You were a fast swimmer and your teacher was proud of you. He was that fond of you, that he wanted you in his team of competitors. When he asked you to join that team, you were in doubt. On one hand, you were proud that he asked you. On the other hand, you're not a competitive girl. Your teacher didn't give you much options: you join the team or you quit swimming.. What a bummer.. Joining the team meant you would have to practice 5 days a week, sometimes even before school started. You decided not to join the team. Practice would be too tough. You always regretted getting out of the team, but there was no other choice at the time.

When your daddy read about Start to Swim, he knew you would love to join him. Your eyes sparkled and you said yes right away. It's too bad you have no friends who love to swim like you do. But your daddy will be your friend and the two of you will do real well together. Enjoy!

When I was young

I loved to go to school. Really! I didn't think it was a waste of time or a nuisance. It's not that the classes were that interesting, but it was the complete picture: friends, a good time, eager to learn, adventure,.. In class, I liked to fool around, but at the same time I did pay attention to what the teachers were saying. That was my study method, I guess. Paying attention in class = studying less at home. Because studying was not that exciting as going to school. I was not that good of a student. Learning things by heart was not something I did well. I passed every school year though and I never hated going to school.

That's why the first week of September, my heart jumps up and down for all them kids going back to school. I wish I could join them. I feel the excitement of crisp paper and new pens. The search for the right class rooms and figuring out what the teachers will be like. Picking out a new outfit and packing that lunch box... I'm totally excited! The girls say they are not, but I think they enjoy school just as much as I did. I just know they are curious about the upcoming school year. A week from now, they won't know any better and life will be back to normal.

Last night, when we were young

Photo Cathy Van de Moortele

My employer is a witty guy. For a number of times, he has called me "old", since to him,  "old" is 40+. He had no idea at first how old I am, so when I asked him if he thought I was old, he shook his head and said: no, I am talking about people who are at least 40 years old.. Right.. He was pretty embarrassed when I told him I'm turning 41 this month. Ever since, it's been our joke. He keeps reminding me of my age, but it doesn't bother me at all. I have no issues growing older.

Cleaning up the clutter in our house, I ran across two stuffed animals that were very dear to me as a child. A small golden teddy bear and a bigger sized bunny. They have been best friends for many, many years. When I go through my photo album (I have only one), I can see them in the crib I spent my baby time in. Maybe someone gave them to me for my birth? I don't know. But I still have them and I'm not going to dump them. They don't have a name. They are over 40 years old now. THEY are OLD. I'm not. We share the same age, but they look older than I do. They do! don't they?

Toi qui rit comme un ange

You have a beautiful smile. You don't make much sound when you smile, but that's okay. Your eyes shine and glow and that broad smile says it all. This afternoon, we cuddled on the couch. Not your own couch you are used to, but a couch in an apartment close to the beach. That's where you will spend your vacation with your family for a week. I will come visit you for two days, so your parents and brother can do other activities. Taking naps is what you need during the day. I love to have you in my lap and make you fall asleep. Making soothing sounds, stroking the tip of your nose  with my index, holding both of your hands, so you can relax and dream your dreams. I wonder what you dream about. While you are sleeping, you hold on to your pacifier, making those little noises that are so typically you. Your little feet meet each other at the foot soles, crossing your legs in my lap. I love the weight of your body against mine, your cheek against my cheek. I try to relax and we breathe together in the same cadence. I'm glad I can give you some love and warmth and you do the same for me. You have the most loving parents ever. They would give their life for you. They do more for you than one could expect. How could they not give you the best? You don't deserve any less. You ask nothing in return. It's just that the love that you give, reaches so many hearts and those hearts send you back all of their love. What a treasure you are..

A plan!

July 23 1992. Twenty years ago.. The day I crossed the ocean and started a life of my own..

On my way to Portland, Oregon, I was taking a deep breath on that huge airplane, thinking about what I had got myself into. Making the decision to go live abroad for 13 months, is not something you do overnight. It took me several months of preparation and hard work, to earn the money and pluck up courage for this major adventure. Without any help but an add in a local newspaper (no Internet back then), I found Au Pair Homestay USA in Overijse. This was the organization that would help me live my dream. How friendly and kind they were and the information they gave me was making my heart tick even faster. Meeting up with former au pairs, was so exciting, that I wanted that July 23rd to be there asap.

Once I was given the documents and files on my au pair family, the dream started. I was going to Portland, Oregon!!! My host family had a 3 yo girl, by the name of Natalie Scott. They lived on Southwest Brae Mar Court, on top of a hill, seeing out over downtown Portland. Looking through the pictures they had sent me, I realized this dream was really going to be reality in no time. I had to finish College first and make sure my grades were good. I was a good student though I didn't foresee any problems of that manner. It was good to discuss my plans with one of my teachers. He knew exactly what I wanted to do and he gave me his full support. I graduated and packed my bags, leaving the student behind and welcoming the adult I had become.

Meeting up with the other girls at Brussels Airport was thrilling. I was surprised though, to see so many of them in tears. Why were they crying? They were about to experience the best year of their life? They were hugging their parents and handkerchiefs were wet with tears. My family stood there. We didn't hug. We didn't cry. I was very impatient and couldn't wait to hop on that plane and leave. The relationship with my parents was not of that order, that we were so close we couldn't miss one another. I must even admit it was a relief to get out of the house and become independent. Too many rules and not enough love, made me run off. By the time I got on that plane, Belgium left my head to make room for the US. It was one of the best decisions I had ever made. It sure changed my life dramatically.. My childhood was over. I was ready to live my own life..

Please don't cry

What age is a fitted age to look after someone else's children? I'm not sure. Remembering my first babysitting years, there were different children I used to look after. Some were toddlers, others were teens. The first night I looked after someone's child, I was only 13 myself. The parents had asked if I had done this before. I nodded - and I lied.. for I had never looked after anyone.. The child was not even a child. It was a 2 month old baby. So tiny, so fragile. It was endearing to hold this little creature and cuddle it. It felt a bit awkward to be in someone else's house and hear all of those different sounds. But I sat myself down on the couch with this little cutie and I enjoyed "motherhood". The fun didn't last long though. Little baby woke up and started to cry. First a soft sound, a bearable sound that I could hush down. When the crying started to go up, I stood up, held the baby against my shoulder and walked around a bit, not knowing why it was crying. Was it discomfort? Did it feel ill? Was the baby longing for its mommy? I didn't know and the idea that the baby couldn't tell me about its grief, scared me. A bottle of milk was sitting on the counter, but I had no idea how to warm it up or how to feed a baby.. I tried to heat the bottle on the stove, in a pan of water. I tasted the milk and it was too hot, so the baby had to wait just a little longer. How would I know you had to hold the bottle up high for the milk to flow out?? The baby went ballistic for the milk didn't come out of the bottle nipple. I started to cry along and was in total despair, for not being able to comfort nor feed this child that was trusted to me. So I called my mom and she came over and showed me how to...

You have been looking after these 4 children for a while now. You're only 15 and the family lives only a few steps away from our house. Little Marie is only 5 months old and she's the cutest baby ever. Well, that's what you keep on saying. She was a little less cute the night she woke up and screamed her lungs out for half an hour. You panicked for Marie woke up her brother Cyriel and all of a sudden you had to take care of a baby in tears and a toddler who wanted his mommy. If only mommy had taken her cell phone along, but it was ringing in the kitchen when you tried to call her in despair. Luckily daddy had his cell phone on him, but how unfortunate that he didn't hear it ring.. You had no idea why Marie was crying so loud. She had been fed and her diaper didn't need to be changed. For 1.5 hours she had been sleeping and all of a sudden she woke up, stretching and kicking her legs like crazy. There was not much you could do to comfort her or make her feel at ease. She didn't want her pacifier either. That's when I got your phone call. You were crying along with the baby and I recognized the despair. So I hopped into my clothes and came to help you. The front door was open by the time I got there and you were more than ready to hand over this cute little girl. Her little face was red and in tears and so was yours. I calmed you down and held the baby, but she was inconsolable. I checked her diaper and her temperature. She was not having a fever but the way she was kicking her legs and making fists, made me assume she was having stomach ache. You told me she had had meds after her bottle, for she has cramps every now and then. We tried to give her some water to drink, for she was exhausted by then. She drank but it was not enough to calm her down. After another 15 minutes I decided to give her some pain relief. You were comforting Cyriel in the other couch who was crying for his mommy. You were very unhappy with the whole situation and I had a hard time calming you down as well. When I started to hum rock-a-bye-baby, Marie seemed to relax a little. I hummed this lullaby at least 30 times in a row, rocking her back and forth in my arms, holding her pacifier and streaking her eyes with her favorite cuddle. Her medication started to work as well and finally she fell asleep. Not for long, because we heard the car park in front of the house. Cyriel woke up as soon as he heard his parents come home. Little Marie opened her eyes and was more than happy to see her daddy. What a night... I hope it didn't scare you in that manner that you would be afraid to go back another time. You did what you had to do. Children cry you know. They are not always happy and cheerful. And sometimes you need help. That's okay sweetheart. You did the right thing. I'm proud of you!

I love your smile

Photo Lana Joos

Your mom chose Hubby as your godfather. He was very proud that she had asked him and he looked forward to being a good godfather. Someone you could count on. Someone who would be there for you whenever you needed him. You're 12 now. Ready to go to Highschool. That comes with a family party, this afternoon. We will all be there, except for Lana, who is still in summer camp. But she'll be thinking of you. It will be your special day and everybody you love will be there to celebrate you. We love you kiddo. You are special to us as a godson but also as a nephew for our girls. When we have you over at our house, we have fun and we do things together. I never heard you protest to come stay with us and sleep over.
In September, you will be going to your new school. Last year, you were the oldest in school. This year, you'll be the youngest again. It will be strange to make new friends, have different teachers and different subjects. But as always: you'll do just fine. It might be frightening in the beginning and it will take you some time to adjust, but it's a good thing you are not shy. It's easy for you to mingle and make new friends. You're an outgoing personality.
It's a pleasure to hear you laugh. Most of the times, when you laugh, tears roll down your cheeks. It's a catching smile and we can't but laugh along. Keep that humor with you. It makes life a whole lot more fun.
Your godfather is going to take you to the Euro Space Center. Just the two of you. How about that? I'm sure you'll have a lot of fun.

Because I know you

The thing between you and me, is that we are so much alike. We look alike and we tend to have similar experiences. I recognize so many situations. I was 15 once, looooooooooooong time ago. But I remember being a teen wasn't easy. Trying to find your own identity, you try out different things. You want to be challenged. You want to be popular and do things others are afraid to do. But I know you, because I know me and I remember what life was like at your age.

There was a basket full of cigarettes in a cabinet up front in our house. The basket was long and made out of  brown rattan. It held like 8 different brands of cigarettes. Those cigarettes were not my parents', since they didn't smoke. They were not ours, since we were not supposed to smoke. We even hated cigarettes or the smoke they produced. It would sting our eyes and it would make us cough. My dad bought them for visitors, so he could offer them a smoke when they felt the need. Back in those days, that was common and very acceptable. 

You like to hang out in the park with your friends. We let you, because we think it's important for teens to socialize and have a good time. We trust you to behave and make the right choices. Last time I picked you up though, you had too much gum in your mouth and your face was all red. You looked out of the window all the way home and you didn't say much. I had suspicions you had been smoking, but I waved that presumption away. You hate cigarettes as much as I do. You say it smells bad and it's bad for your health. So I trusted you and I put away the thought of you smoking...

I had no friends who smoked. So nobody tempted me or dared me to try it out. It's just that one day, I was home alone and I needed something from the cabinet. Closing the cabinet door, the corner of my eye caught the rattan basket full of cigs. I don't know why, but I thought it would be kinda exciting to try out one cigarette. That green box of Saint-Michelle looked the most appealing to me. I had no idea how I would light that cigarette, but I grabbed some matches on the way to the backyard. 

I was emptying your baggage when you came home from camp. There was so much laundry to do and I held your backpack upside down to make everything fall out. To my surprise, a lighter fell out on the floor. For an instance, my heart stopped. I was not wrong. My intuition had not failed on me.. I was so disappointed.. Why??? You're such a clever girl.. you are popular, you have so many friends. Why do you try something this stupid? How many did you have already? Are you still smoking? Who's providing you? Do you use your allowance to buy the things you need?

I was pretty nervous. First I tried to light a match and light the cigarette, by just holding it in my hand. Obviously that wasn't working.. I remembered seeing my grandma smoke. She had the cig in her mouth when she lit it, so that's what I tried. It worked! And it tasted awful.. I spit out what I had just tasted in my mouth. But maybe the second try would taste better? I didn't get the chance, because my mom came home and called for me. I freaked out! I buried the cigarette, together with the matches and I promised myself never to be this stupid again. I couldn't stop smelling my fingers and my heartbeat went up by the minute. My mom came outside to look for me and I was terrified she would notice...

I confronted you with the lighter. The tone of your skin changed into a deep purple. You didn't look at me, but you said you didn't want to talk about it. Bad luck. I'm your mom. You don't decide whether you want to talk about this or not. In the end, you admitted you had tried smoking. But you refused to tell me why the lighter was in your backpack. I'm disappointed... I really am. Right there and then, I wished you would not look after me that well..

Love is..

.. losing track of time when you are together.

This little girl has something special, that makes anyone love her. I don't know how she does it, but you must love her. There's no other option. I'm so happy she was born in such a loving family. That may be obvious to you, but it isn't. I have seen different situations.. Needing people around her who care for her and who love her for who she is, this little Princess is growing up in the most loving environment ever. Surrounded by family, friends and caregivers, she's happy and nurtured.

I got pretty emotional, reading this letter from her parents. I was not the only one.. Grandma's eyes teared up as well. Fantastic people and wonderful parents to both little Princess and her brother..

All caregivers are invited to a pleasant night out in a nearby restaurant. It's their way to show their gratitude for looking after this beautiful child. It takes a team you can trust and build on, to make sure there's always someone there to help out. I'm lucky I can be part of this team. I'm lucky to have little Princess in my life.. Because she teaches me about true love..

Only you know me

Photo by Lana Joos

You asked if your two best friends could come over to spend the night in our backyard. One of them would bring a tent and you would have dinner together earlier that night. Sounded just fine by me! No problem, on the contrary. It's great to have your friends over and see you enjoy their company. I know you confide in them and you tell each other all your secrets. That's good. We all need friends we can trust and we can talk to. Girls don't have to tell their parents everything. That's what friends are for.

It was around midnight before you went off to the tent, flashlights in your hands, your tummies filled with food and dessert (I hope nobody will vomit in the middle of the night).
The whippets wanted to join you and keep you warm, but one of your friends is not to keen on having the dogs in the tent, so they will stay in their bench in the kitchen. I'll keep my fingers crossed that the thunderstorm will wait until tomorrow to torment our neighborhood. Or we'll hear three young girls scream their lungs out... Have a very good night. But first talk till your voices have faded away... Embrace each other and enjoy the company.. These are times to remember.

Photo by Lana Joos

It's not that easy

The last time I had seen my godmother and her family, was on my Confirmation in 6th grade. She came to church, to support me, but she didn't stay for the party that was planned. I never thought it would take 7 years before I would see her again.

I have two nieces. They are both older than me and very different. One was blond and had tons of pretty freckles. The older niece had curly black hair, all the way down to her bottom. I loved to go over to their place for sleep overs during the holidays. They lived in the area of Ghent at the time and I was invited to stay with them for a week or so. We were young back then. Younger than 12 for sure. One of the nieces had an orange record player. It was the most beautiful record player I had ever seen. It had rounded corners. It wasn't big and the sound was probably not the best, but we could play records in her room. One of the records we would play over and over again, is a record not many of you will recognize. It was called: Kiss me mio, amore by The Loveletts. I'm pretty sure the record belonged to her parents. The music is not exactly fitted for young children. But we loved it. We would sing along: oh baby oh baby, oh baby my little baby. If the record player would have had a repeat button, we would have used it. It was quite tricky to put the fragile needle on the record without scratching it. We were afraid to damage the record, so we were very careful with it. I never forgot that song, nor the moment.

At the age of 18, I got my driver's license. I had longed for this piece of paper for a long time. Being able to drive, would give me so much freedom. It didn't take me long to buy a second hand car and soon after that, I would drive myself to school. No more boring train rides for me!
On my way to college, I passed a familiar area. I recognized some street names. Only a few weeks later, I realized this had to be the area where my godmother lived. I was totally excited! My heart pounded in my throat when I took the exit and started to look for the house I was familiar with. I even remembered the address by heart. But what if they had moved? They had moved before you know, since my uncle worked as a police officer and he was asked to move several times. But I decided to give it a try. I got out of my car and walked my way up to the door. Then I chickened out and ran back to the car. I had to calm myself down. What could happen? Not much, right? So I pulled myself together and rang the bell. My godmother opened the front door and showed no sign of recognition. I told her who I was and she was moved to say the least. She was just on her way out to see her doctor, so she hugged me and asked me to please come back some other day. And that's exactly what I did..

Do you remember?

I was 12 years old. Ready to change schools and enter a new world...

My godfather was French by origin. For most of his life, he had lived in Belgium. He never wanted to learn Dutch. There were some words he could pronounce and he understood most of what we said, but he kept talking French to me. I had just started to learn French and it was not of that level that I could have a conversation with him. So we didn't relate real well. He lived nearby and his wife and I got along well. She translated for me and she encouraged me to speak French. I never succeeded in having a good conversation with my godfather, but every now and then we got together.

He gave me a wonderful present. It was a beautiful doll. She was huge! She had pearly white hair with tons of ringlets in it. She wore a lovely dress and her feet were wrapped in shiny black shoes. She had ribbons in her hair. The doll was really special. You could undress her to find this little hatch in her backside. It could contain a teeny record. The doll came with 3 records, full of French music. One of the songs was Trois Mousquetaires. I would sing along and play the record over and over again, until I knew the song by heart. I can't remember the words. Not even the tune. But I do remember how special that present was. I don't know what happened to the doll. I guess I got too big for it and I'm sure it found a new place to live in the attic somewhere.

My godfather passed away a couple of years ago. My cousin let me know but I couldn't find a way to go see him before he died. I regret that. I wanted to have the chance to talk to him in French. Maybe not a whole conversation, but I could have tried to let him know what he meant to me. Every now and then, he's on my mind. Like today, when our oldest daughter told me the story of the Three Musketeers..

A roof over your head

I'm so proud of you! Last night, you invited me to a picnic in your backyard. That is, your future back yard, behind the house you and your husband are building. The sun was out till late that night and your husband had improvised a table for us to sit at. I guess sitting on a picnic blanket was not really possible, but we did enjoy the food. There were side dishes and even dessert. And of course good conversations. We have a lot of fun together but at the same time, we can discuss serious stuff too. Building your own house is not a piece of cake. It's hard work and sticking to the budget is a true challenge. But the two of you will get there. And one day, your baby son will say: my daddy helped the contractor build our house..

Photo Lana Joos

That same little boy will be coming over today. I have the honor to look after him for a couple of hours. He's such a cutie! I love his personality. Always full of mischief but not in a bad way. He's just vivid and active and pleasant to be around. I'm sure we'll have fun together. The girls haven't seen him for a long time. He's very welcome here and we love him.