Looking good there!

It had been a while - you said 2 months at the least - since we last got together. Things have been quite hectic around here. I can see you during the day and you prefer evening get aways. So it's not always easy to schedule a date, but today we finally met up again.

Foto Cathy Van de Moortele

You looked fab! You dyed your hair and it was a bit shorter than last time I saw you. I felt like caressing your growing belly, but I wasn't too sure you would appreciate that. It was almost emotional to see you pregnant, since I missed your previous pregnancy. I was so anxious to hear the sex of your baby. You didn't want to tell me over the phone, so I had to be patient, but it was worth the wait. I'm so happy for you. That baby will be loved and cuddled and spoiled rotten. Not only by you and your family, but by your beautiful and intelligent son as well.

We sat down for a picnic that I had made for us. We babbled and laughed and ate in between the story telling. It was nice to sit out there, just the two of us - and that little cutie in your belly of course - discussing life and motherhood. You're a great mom. I hear your insecurity and your worries, but there's no need to. Children do real well if loved and you have plenty of love to give.

So looking forward to the end of August. This time, I'll be there to support you and stand by your side xx

What if happiness is not that obvious?

We all know the world is full of bellies carrying little babies. Once you're pregnant yourself or looking forward to having a baby, you see even more moms to be. One of my friends has had a baby just recently (and yes, I miss her and our chats, but don't we all know how busy our lives become once those little ones enter our homes), another one has a belly that is full of life and growing way too fast (I want to enjoy that wonderful sight of her pregnancy - I missed her previous one) and a third friend is in the early stage of expecting new life, while a fourth is about to deliver any time now.

Having two wonderful daughters of my own, I know what it's like to expect a child and give birth. I know the feeling of bringing new life into this world, the pain of being in labor and the happiness once that little creature uses its voice for the very first time. It's a feeling only moms can experience. Your life will never be the same, once you can call yourself a mom.

What if you have this dream, this one and only dream that would fill your life with so much joy and happiness that you would do anything to achieve your goal? What if things don't work out the way you want them to? Do people ever realize how hard it must be, when people ask you how come you haven't got children of your own? I can tell you: it hurts like hell. It sucks! It's not a good feeling at all... it can be very damaging indeed. Most of the time, the people asking, don't mean any harm. They are just trying to have a conversation and ask for the "obvious". But apparently it's not that obvious. Having children may not be that obvious at all. Sometimes the process can be really hard and the road to travel very long.  If only we could keep that in mind and support our friends and family that are so looking forward to having a little Prince or Princess of their own. An extra cuddle, some kind words and sympathy or small talk over a big mug of coffee. It's not that much to ask for. It's a delicate subject and there's not much you can do to help the other, but listen and understand. I care for you, my beautiful friend. I wish you all the best and all the luck in the world. My thumbs are still facing the stars. 

While that's all fine and dandy..

It's been a year now, since this very nice man asked me to pull up my shirt, so he could insert this thingamajig into my tummy. I had no idea what to expect or if this device would be meaningful enough to me to have it glued to my body 24/7. I never asked to get diabetes, I never asked to be given this stupid chronic disease. But it's there, it ain't going nowhere and I have to own it to make a difference. I have accepted my condition a long time ago. Although a cure is not yet found, we have access to great technology nowadays. I wish all of my peers could have this same availability to whatever they need to keep their diabetes in control. Life is hard enough as it is.. We can use all the support out there. You may not really know what it's like to have diabetes, but a little bit of compassion and sympathy goes a long way.

Last night, I got a phone call from a very nice lady. She's Dutch and very smart, witty and enthusiastic. I told her it was too bad she didn't have diabetes, because now she couldn't join our club... Of course I didn't mean that (I would not want to nominate anyone for this bloody disease), but that's the kind of conversation we had: very open, spontaneous and honest. Although this lady is not a diabetic herself, she sure knows what she's talking about. It always startles me that non-diabetics make it their goal in life to help diabetics in whatever they find worthwhile.

So this lady and I talked for a while (...) and the conversation felt like I had known her for a long time. Her enthusiasm struck me. I was startled to hear about her determination in finding a cure for T1 diabetes. She knows people. She knows more than a handful of people - people that matter when it comes to finding a cure. She's a manager working for JDRF Holland and she's the one when it comes to fundraising, getting in touch with people who want to make the difference. I was happy she called me and I would be very honored if I could mean something to JDRF and all of us diabetics out there.

Insulin pumps are wonderful and Dexcom is the invention of the century for people with diabetes. While that's all fine and dandy: it's not a cure. We may seem very relaxed and coping, we all still have diabetes. Technology has improved massively and researchers all over the world are doing the best they can to come up with that cure that will kick diabetes in the butt. We need money though... a whole lot of money. Researchers are so close, but they need extra funding to finish what they have started.

That same night, I got another call from Holland. I met this lady a couple of years ago, on a diabetes congress in Brussels. I remembered her as a lady with pezaz, a driving force and most of all: a mom of a sweet little girl with diabetes. That girl is 9 years old now and a cure has not been found yet. It is time to spread the word again and sit around the table for a serious session of brainstorming. Are you with me?

What makes you beautiful

Being a teenager can be challenging. Things are being expected. There's school, friends, home, maybe a job on the weekend, a boyfriend, chores, sports, .. sometimes there's so much going on, there's hardly any time for you. Time to relax, enjoy life, hang out on the couch and just be. Finding the right balance is a hard job.

I'm proud of you. You are very conscious of what's going on around you. Your antlers are always buzzing, picking up emotions and situations. You have a heart for others and you are sensitive for the people you love.
You lack energy and you need a lot of sleep. After all, being a teen asks a lot from you. I'm so happy to see you have a nutritious breakfast before you go to school: oatmeal, fruit, green tea. It is a good way to regain your energy. You take good care of yourself.

Today, your sister decided to make breakfast for you. It is your birthday! We dressed the table and lit some candles, to welcome you downstairs. You were surprised and excited about the gifts. It's good to see you smile. You have a wonderful night planned with your boyfriend. He will spend the night with us and we'll have tapas together. Maybe a movie later on that night.

A bright future is awaiting you. Maybe this Spring, you will pick up running again. Or maybe swimming? It would do you good. It would provide your body with oxygen and energy. You're growing, kiddo. You're no longer that cute little baby you once were. Just look at you... need I say more?

Love,

your mommy xx <3

Trying to read between the lines

He told me it was golden and its condition was immaculate. It was "only" 75.000 Belgian francs (we didn't have Euros back then). I thought that was a very reasonable price for a Triumph! After all, my former boyfriend drove a similar car, a Triumph Spitfire to be accurate. That car in mind, I agreed to buying my first second hand car.. It took many hours of labor in restaurants to purchase that car, but it was mine and I loved the freedom it gave me.

I'm peeking through the window. The black monster just turned around the corner. I can see its headlights glow in the early morning hours. You're holding the steering wheel with both hands, waiting for the bus to move on. I feel confident and proud. For the very first time, you're driving to school all by yourself. Not without a reason: last night, around 5:00 PM, you were staring at your computer screen, waiting for your school results to appear. And YES!! you did it! You succeeded for all classes. Your hard work paid off. So happy to hear that and what a relief.. There was no reason to go to school to discuss your grades, but you planned on going with your friends so you asked for the car.

A little bird has told me it won't be too long before you will buy your first second hand car. You're ready. You have some money in your bank account and your driver's licence in your pocket. We'll have to think about this and discuss the conditions, before we come to some agreement. I can relate to your desire to have a car of your own. It means freedom and independence and another step towards adulthood. After all, you're almost 19..

In that case you are totally hired

Broken oven door: fixed.
Vacuuming the house: done.
Removing cabinet door to the microwave to be fixed: check.
Ironing baskets full of laundry: perfect!
Making the house clutter free:  all righty!
Walking the dogs, day after day, cold or wet outside: sign me up.
Coming up with great ideas for Christmas presents: woohoo!
Going to work in between chores: always.

Thank you for doing all the things you do. It makes life easier x

A mother's nightmare

I'm a member of different diabetes groups on the Internet, so every now and then, in between good news, there's also sad news to read. Today, right before lunch, I read the story on little Jillian. Tears were stinging in the corner of my eyes, just by reading her mom's diary. Little Jillian was diagnosed just recently, June 2013. She was a fun girl, going to kindergarten until D changed her life. She would never again be the innocent 4 yo she was before. From that day on, Jillian would need special care and special attention until the day she could take care of herself or until the day a cure for diabetes is found.

If you still think, diabetes is "nothing special" or if you make statements like "at least it's not cancer", well let me tell you this. Diabetes is no game. It's a life threatening disease. It's always there and you must always be on the lookout for highs and lows. Other people have no idea what it's like to be constantly aware of the fact that overdosing insulin might take your life. High bloodsugar can make you extremely sick and may require hospital treatment. Lows can make you lose consciousness as well if not treated right away. The fear of everyone with diabetes, is to not wake up from a diabetic low.. It is scary and although it doesn't happen very often, people do die from unnoticed diabetic lows.

This is what I read on the blog of Jillian's mom.. it made the hairs in the back of my neck stand up immediately. I feel so sad for her loss. I don't know Jillian, nor do I know her family. But I do know this must be any mother's nightmare. Children are not supposed to go before their parents. This little girl was not even 5. She will be missed by so many people. We have to find a cure for this ugly disease. No family should go through such an ordeal. Only 4 months after being diagnosed, this little girl's life was taken. Jillian was in hospital, being treated for high sugar levels. She had an IV and nurses were guarding her. Nevertheless, she died in her sleep. Nobody could save her from this bloody disease.

I have had a discussion with my endocrinologist over CGM. You all know by now, I use a Dexcom continuous glucose monitoring system. It helps me identify lows and highs if my body fails at warning me. And it does fail at times. I do feel most of my lows, but being asleep is always tricky. Having diabetes makes you tired and sometimes catching sleep is more important than spending time in the twilight zone, making sure you are not fully asleep. You want to make sure you guard yourself from going low so you don't sleep well. Because of my Dexcom, nowadays I can sleep better and deeper, because I know it will warn me from unnoticed lows. Just a couple of days ago, I was so happy with my "flatline" on my Dexcom readings... this is how it's supposed to be.
Not the flatline Jillian got..
I wish little Jillian would've had Dexcom equipment. It is not a gadget, like some people dare to call it. It's my life saver. I'm so grateful for my Dexcom. It's not a cure, but it can help me get the best treatment possible until a cure will be found.
Please let all of your love go to Jillian's family now. Their life will never be the same..

She went to bed last night with a blood sugar of 214 and when the nurse tested her at 5am she was 122 which is where we wanted to be. But at 8am when they went to wake her up she didn't get up. Somewhere between 5:30 and 8am this morning she fell into diabetic coma and died in her sleep.

Quality time

That's exactly what it was: grown up quality time. It was meant as a late birthday gift from my Hubby. Our first intention was to plan a city trip abroad, but we changed our mind and decided to spend some special time nearby. A friend of mine had passed on the link of Manoir Ogygia in Poperinge. It was exactly what we were looking for: quiet time, nature, fine dining, relaxation, wellness and each other of course. It was everything we had asked for and more. These are times to meet up again, away from all the hectic times and busy schedules. Time for each other, time for intimacy and bonding (oh please, I said BONDING, not bondage). It was good, not to say it was perfect.

It was good to stroke the crow's feet next to his eyes, for they tell me he's happy and in love. I saw the sparkle in his eyes and the good conversations made us happy. Watching him stretch his broad shoulders, telling me that he's content and proud and that warms my heart. I love him. He's very special to me. We should have more of these get aways. They are worth it...

Am I missing something here?

Last week, your mommy and I were discussing a future visit to the hospital. You needed some special attention and your parents were scheduling an appointment for the week to come. None of us realized that visit to the hospital would be sooner than planned...

We were relaxing upstairs, in the attic that has been designed especially for you. Watching a movie while you were fast asleep in my lap, your formula was dripping down the feeding tubes into your tummy, just the way it's supposed to do. You were not making any noises but the soft sucking sounds of your pacifier. Your finger was holding my index and I was stroking some strands of hair out of your pretty face. That's when I noticed the little stains of milk on my pants. It does happen sometimes, that one of the gates of your PEG is not tightly secured. Nothing wrong with the tubing though. Hmhm... I remembered last weeks conversation with your mommy and immediately I pulled up your shirt to check your PEG. I was not prepared to see what I saw: a big hole in your tummy. There was some blood around the edges. I decided to call your parents right away and bring you downstairs to take care of the wound. In the meantime, I had called your nana, for I didn't want to loose any time. I had no idea whether I had to disinfect the wound, stay away from it, cover it with sterile bandage. I decided to cover the hole with sterile bandage and tape and wait for your parents to come help out. Your nana was there in little less than 6 minutes. She was a bit stunned since this had not happened before. Apparently the little balloon in your tummy had worn out and deflated. That's why it had come out so easily. It was very important to insert a new PEG as soon as possible, for the hole starts to close real fast. That's when mommy and daddy jumped in. Running upstairs to get the spare PEG, the manual was being spread out on the table to find out how a PEG needs to be inserted correctly. None of us had ever done this. A phone call to the hospital, didn't bring any solution, so it was all up to your mommy. She didn't hesitate and inserted the tubing all the way down to your stomach where it's supposed to be. Time to inject 5 ml of water into the tubing to see if the water went in or not. Out of the blue, someone stopped by to drop off a bunch of pancakes. She happens to be a nurse and she happens to be THE nurse who gives you special injections when you are extremely sick. What a gift she decided to stop by today... She confirmed the PEG to be inserted correctly. What a relief...

A couple of phone calls later (hospitals are terrible on weekends), your parents could finally pick you up and have you checked out.

That were some scary moments Princess. I'm glad you're okay. I'm glad your mommy was cool enough to help you. 

Excusez-moi?

"Bonsoir, c'est Freddy, c'est pour la commande"... I hated those phone calls. How I truly hated those phone calls. Us kids dreaded Thursday evenings. We would make sure we were not downstairs around that time of night, when my dad's French customers would call in to pass on their order. I was like 14 or 15 at the time and my French was not that good to comprehend the fast as lightning French sentences. You know how those Frenchmen can rattle? Well, they didn't care we were only kids and French was not our maternal tongue. My father wanted us to learn French and school French was not sufficient. I don't recall us learning about "quatre fûts de Jupiler" in school. I had no idea what "fûts" meant and most of the time, I would scribble down: fuut. I would say: "oui" and more "oui" although I didn't understand a word of what that Freddy-guy was saying. It was really stressful and I knew my father would ask me if I had written everything down correctly. To be honest, I had no idea. I was supposed to repeat what I had written before putting down the phone, but I never did. There were no cell phones in those days nor caller ID. We never knew in advance who would be at the other side.
Was it helpful? I guess so. Do I speak French fluently? Absolutely not, but it's probably a whole lot better than the French my peers speak. I'm still not crazy about speaking French, but I manage. Je me débrouille, if you know what I mean. And if you don't know, it's probably because your father didn't run his own business and he didn't have a Monsieur Freddy call in weekly to place his order...

I think you are remarkable

You have been working really hard this time, studying your school books 2 weeks in advance. I think Ilaria won't mind, that you used her room to prepare yourself for the finals. It was not a bad idea to have an extra study room, so your bedroom was nothing else but a place to relax and sleep. We're proud of you, cutie. You did real well in school and now you can look forward to some time off. Only one week, before you will start your first student's job, but it will be a week to chill, watch movies, read books, date your boyfriend, hang out with your other friends. You deserve it. We're proud of you!

A victory dance

In 6th grade, you felt so big and "grown up", ready to go to High School in a different, bigger town, far away from the little ones. You were so tiny though, compared to the older kids in High School and the buildings seemed so enormous and breathtaking.

Photo Eva Joos

Last night, we were invited by your principal to go to school. Graduation party, with all your friends and their parents. We were so excited to hear, that you passed for all of your exams. Finally, no more High School for you. You are so ready to spread your wings and fly away. Not before September, but your new school and your student's room are waiting for you and we are looking forward to spending some time off together. We realize your time in our household is very precious. Experience tells us, we won't be seeing much more of you once you will have left for college. We will welcome you in our house as often as you like and maybe we'll surprise you with some unexpected visits in Bruges. It is time to start leading your own life now. You're ready. We're ready. And we are proud of you. Congratulations sweetheart. You have worked real hard and you have deserved that diploma!

Looking at things from the right angle

I loved to look at you, when you were turning the handle of your little bingo machine. Very focused and extremely serious, you would write down the numbers of the tiny balls that came rolling out of the machine. You would take a second glance at the numbers on the sheet of paper and then decide whether you needed to spin the machine again or not. I don't know what made you decide the numbers were good or bad, although you tried to explain it to me a number of times. There had to be some meaning or logic in the sequence of the numbers. If you couldn't trace that logic, you were convinced they wouldn't do you any good. So you started all over again. The tiny balls were put back into the machine and you would spin the handle again. It could take quite some time for you to finish your game. Then you would ask your children what they thought was the best series of numbers. They were very serious about it too. I suspect they would not even have tried to joke about it, because they knew how important it was to you..

I remember two occasions, where your daughter pointed out a series of numbers. You didn't agree and you picked your own. The funny thing is, you would hold on to the piece of paper, scribbled with dozens of numbers, while you were watching the lottery on TV. You would be all sweaty and everybody had to leave you alone and be quiet. On two occasions, your daughter was right about all 6 numbers! That is, if you would have handed in her choice of numbers.. The sadness on your face was really moving, when the host of the show would state the amount of money one could've won. You went on for many, many years and you kept all the scribbles with numbers for as long as it took. Every now and then, you would go back to one particular note and pick the same sequence. But the bingo machine kept going and you kept writing down new combinations..

We filled out lottery tickets for a number of years. It didn't bring us more than what we had paid for, so we finally gave up. It must be awesome to win the lottery. But guess what? I have my family. No lottery ticket can compete with that. Just look at things from the right angle.. Winning a suitcase full of money must be fab, but it can bring you bad luck as well. Making your own luck is a longer journey but it's worth the try.

Should I have said something?

Let's assume your parents occasionally have a drink when they go out. A glass of wine at the dinner table or a refreshing beer on a hot day, a glass of champagne to celebrate a special occasion. Sounds acceptable, right? Not one person would say this is socially not acceptable, since the drinking habit is within limits.
Let's assume your parents have a drink or two when they go out. They have a drink at home, before they go out, because it sets the mood right. They treat their friends on shots at the pub and they think soda pop is for teens. How about a glass of wine with every meal and a shot of whiskey to round the day? Maybe a small glass of port around 11 AM, just for the fun of it? Half a crate of beer at a family party, just to show off and let their friends know how tough they are? What if they let you, at the age of 12, sip their drink, to see if you like the taste? Is that acceptable?

I wonder if there is a connection between the attitude towards alcohol and the chances you start to abuse alcohol, if you were introduced to alcohol at an early age. If you grow up under the assumption that alcohol can be used on a daily basis and as a part of a healthy, normal life, would you consider that strange? Would you question your parents about it? Maybe you don't know any better, since you trust your parents to raise you in the best possible way. They want you to become an independent individual with a mind of your own. To them, alcohol is part of that life and considered normal and acceptable. So you grow up and live your life and just like your parents, there is always an occasion to drink: a celebration, not feeling well, a rough day at work, one more glass left in a bottle you wanted to throw out, sad moments, happy moments, social drinking, getting promoted, 11 AM shots (as long as you don't drink before 11 AM, it's normal, right?). The alcohol makes you happy. That's what you experienced as a child. You saw your parents laugh and have a good time while having a couple of drinks. Easy, right? They would open a bottle of comforter to help getting rid of grief. There was no shoulder to cry on, because there was a cabinet filled with bottles to choose from.. A different drink for every emotion.

Are parents the role model in drinking behavior? How do you teach your children about moderation and the danger of addictions? How come 14 year olds are binge drinking without anybody stepping in? What's your role in educating your kids alcohol is a drug too?

I'm sure there are plenty of excuses: it's genetic, it helps me relax, it takes away my sorrows and I'm much more happy and cheerful if I have a few drinks. Does anybody tell them about the aftermath? Do they realize problems don't disappear but only get bigger? Do they discuss hangovers in a serious conversation or is it cool to tell others how much you have been drinking? What is the role of the parents? Is it necessary to step in and set the example?

How was the party?

Waking up with a pillow full of vomit, wearing jeans instead of pj's and without any idea where your T-shirt is, is not the most attractive way to wake up. Your throat is sore and feels like sandpaper. You are so thirsty and your head feels like someone is using a meat mill to grind your brain. You try to get your legs out of bed and you stare at that pair of jeans that isn't yours. What the heck.. You reach for the door knob and on your socks, you sneak out of the bedroom, assuring to be quiet because you don't want to wake anybody. In the bathroom, the clock is telling you it is late afternoon. Is that clock working allright? You take a glance in the mirror and the image is telling how you are feeling. Like crap, that is. A peek through the window says there is no sign of your car. Shoot.. Rubbing your temples, you try to figure out what had happened to previous night, but there's only a black hole. You remember going to the pub just down the street and having a great time with your friends. You taste the sweet wellness of cherry liquor, although it no longer tastes the same as the night before and right there and then, it makes your stomach twirl. You fall down to your knees in front of the toilet and you fear your guts may come out. Never again, you promise yourself. This was the worst hangover ever. You fear going downstairs because you don't want to face your parents. Their disappointment will be huge and the rant will be correspondingly. There is no time to come up with a plausible story, since your mother is trotting up the stairs. Your heart is pounding in your body and you try to prepare yourself for the storm in the glass..

It's part of the growing pains. There's no use crying over it. It happens and we can only hope it won't happen again. It's a good lesson in life. Alcohol makes you sick and it wipes out your memory. It makes you feel invincible one moment and it turns you in to a terrible mess the very next. It's up to you where to draw the line. The life of a teenager isn't always grand.. Let's hope not too many people witnessed your disastrous night.

Peace of mind

I was 18 and I had just finished highschool. Not ready to go to work yet but not knowing what direction I was headed to either. That was a hard one! I know I didn't want to go to university. I was not that much of a student. Not that my grades were bad, I just didn't like to study on a regular base. So university was not an option. College. Okay, that sounded more like it. I wanted to go to school in Ghent, because that's where all the fun was, right? I wanted to move out and find a room. In Ghent, obviously. Because, well, same reason.. I just had no clue what I wanted to study. My mom made the decision for me: I was not going to Ghent, not by any chance. I didn't understand? Was it because my sister was already studying in Ghent? I didn't see the problem. She did, so I heard. She suspected her second child to be out and partying all night long and neglecting school. I had no intention to do that whatsoever. Of course I would go out for a drink with friends, every now and then, but I would not get drunk or sleep on a street bench or do drugs or anything like that?

So she decided I couldn't go to Ghent. She also decided becoming a kindergarten teacher was the best option for me. Wasn't that the choice she had wanted to make for her own career? Hmhmhm. I admit I'm creative and yes, I'm good with kids. But becoming a kindergarten teacher? That was not an option I had considered myself. I was more the Tourism type. I wanted to do something with traveling and languages. But hey: I had the choice: go to school to become a teacher or go to work. So far for a choice..

I decided I wanted to go to college and I chose a school as far away from home as possible. It was a 2 hour ride by train and I have spent many boring hours on that wooden train seat before I treated myself to a car. My mom had no other choice than to let me rent a room in Eeklo. For her peace of mind, she agreed Eeklo was not Ghent and there weren't as many pubs or facilities to be distracted.
She and my sister accompanied me to visit different rooms. That first room was horrible. This old lady was looking for a resident companion. She had the attic for rent and there was this unstable stairways to my room, that she would push up at night, so I would be locked up in my room until the next morning. I'm sure my mom was thrilled by this idea, but I wasn't!

I ended up living with two sculptors. We became pretty close in the 3 years I shared a house with them. I loved my room. It was in the middle of the center (okay, Eeklo is not Ghent), close to school and vivid enough for me. Although there was no cell phone to check on me and the sculptors didn't spy on me, I behaved pretty well for a college student. I didn't go out every night and I didn't need alcohol to have a good time. I still didn't like to study a whole lot, but despite all of that, my grades were very good. To be honest: I was a good student and I ended up being one of the best students in class. My teachers told me I was going to be a good teacher. Then why was I so opposed to becoming one? It's your guess..

Life, O-Live

I was sitting on the couch, my notebook in my lap, typing some new recipes for my cookbook.
You were in the kitchen. I could hear you break eggs in a bowl, shoveling with pans on the cooker. The chopping sound of the knife while you were cutting up some fruit for a fresh fruit salad. The radio was on and I heard you sing along with Life, o life..

Instantly a smile occurred on my face. I assume you must have been 3 or 4 years old when this song by Desree was a hit. You thought Desree must have craved "olives" for making a song about it... We have laughed about this for many many years and every time we hear the song, we don't need words. Just looking at each other is enough to bring back the memories..

Memories are important in life. It's the memories that bring us back in the past. They make us relive the happy moments. Children grow up fast. Very fast. The memories may fade, but they won't go away, for we keep them alive. Or was it O-Live?

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... 

He is the cheese to my macaroni

The broad smile on her face, that went from ear to ear, said it all. "It's been three months today", she informed me. I saw her eyes twinkle like stars. She's madly in love.. It really warms my heart to witness that pure love. She said he had a surprise for her. No school on May 1st, so the ideal day to go out and have fun in the sun. He was going to pick her up on his Dax. Yes, that same vehicle our little girl is dying to buy. He has had one for over 2 years now and he's a good driver. I thought 20 km was a bit too far to come pick her up. But the idea was real romantic and sweet. He definitely wanted to see her..  

We decided I was going to drive our kiddo to a different meeting point. Grandma's house sounded like a good deal, since it's on the way to BF's (boyfriend) house. He had not forgotten to bring an extra helmet, size S. How considerate! I saw her hop on his Dax and put her feet right where they belonged. I could tell she had been on that Dax before. She blew me a kiss, just like she did when she was a toddler. Holding her arms around his waist, they left for a surprise picknick in the woods. I was truly moved by this gesture. What a nice young man.. He's a lucky man too, for he has picked an amazing girl as his girlfriend..

I am flashing back

Can I have a Vespa?

     Are you out of your mind? No way! Don't even go there!

Why can't I have a Vespa?

     Because Vespas are dangerous. Because you are only 16! Because I say so. Because there are one  thousand reasons why you can't have a Vespa!

What if I buy my own Vespa?

     You are not going to. Forget about it. Not in one million years.

I can't recall the exact conversation, but it must have been something like this. I was really upset during that conversation. I knew in advance I was not going to win the battle, but at least I could try. I did ask the question and the answer was no, just like I had expected. I remember the disappointment. I remember the tears. And I remember the disapproval of my parents. Why did I even bother to ask, if I knew the answer was going to be a firm NO anyway? Why were they so opposed to me getting a Vespa? Was it really for the reasons they gave me? Or didn't they want me to grow up and get independent?
I remember I didn't ask a second time. That was not done where I grew up. If your parents gave you a clear NO for an answer, you didn't ask twice. You didn't even dare to ask again, because that would only make things worse..

Our youngest one has asked us the same question. Excuse me, not the same. She doesn't want a Vespa. She wants a Honda Dax. I understand her longing for independence. I recognize the feeling of wanting to grow up and doing whatever you want to do. She wants to go out. She wants to feel free. Her dad is ready to give in. He had a motorcycle when he was her age. I didn't. I wanted one, like I described a couple of minutes ago. I never got one. I got myself a car though. I worked on the week-ends and during the holidays, so I could save money to buy my own car. At the age of 18, you are pigeonholed in the ADULT category and you get to decide what you want to spend your money on. I try to reason with Eva. I want to convince her to get a job first and save money in her bank account. It's not just the money for the purchase of the Dax. It's a whole lot more...

She will need a place to park her treasure. She will need money for insurance and gas and maintenance and a helmet (a good, decent one, to make sure her brain doesn't get all mushy in case she .. aaarrgghhhh I don't even want to go there!). She's not being reasonable about it. She is angry and disappointed and frustrated with me. I'm sure at this stage, she hates me. I know she wanted this Dax for her 16th birthday. She got a one year membership on her favorite fashion magazine. It's less dangerous and it was something else on her wish list.. That her boyfriend rides a Honda Dax, isn't helping much either....

The discussion is not closed yet. We're not done. There is room for discussion. It doesn't have to be a battle. I don't like this wrangling. I hate it as much as she does. I just want her to think about it. To consider my objections and to find answers for the questions I have asked. I want her to start saving money to buy her little treasure. If only she would make an effort.. then we can talk again, in some time.