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!

Yay!

Photo Lana Joos

Isn't she cute? We are so happy with our little blonde Danish girl. So happy she made the journey to Holland and finally to Belgium. She's some girl, you know. Sweet and tender but with a little twist and a mind of her own, Rebba is just the perfect whippy. She loves her people family and she has found a best friend in Inthe. These two make the perfect pair and the way they look after each other, is heartwarming.

Photo Lana Joos

She turned 7 today. We missed her birth and we have no pictures of our sweetheart as a puppy. I hope that one day, her people parents in Denmark will send us some photos of her early days. She was not happy the sun wasn't out this morning, when she went for a walk. She despises the rain and she dilly-dallies around the house, looking for a way out.

Her special birthday treat, was emptying a jar of peanut butter. We have no idea why she's so fond of the spread, but she loves it. I think she prefers the American JIF over the Dutch Calvé peanut butter so we gave her the choice today.

I think you are going to have a lazy day on the couch, with your friend Inthe. Love you sweetie xx

Sit back and enjoy the ride

I love roller coasters! The higher they get, the more excited I become. Having worked in a amusement park as a young teen, I would always rush to the roller coaster right after work. We would hang out there with my friends and enjoy numerous rides, screaming our lungs out and getting all wound up. Back then, I never would have thought roller coasters could also have a completely different meaning..

I hate roller coasters! The higher I get, the more fatigued and miserable I become. Going from high to low and back is no longer something to get excited about, on the contrary. I truly despise the alterations in my blood sugar. To be honest: it's probably the one thing I really hate about diabetes. I have discussed the subject with my endocrinologist on numerous occasions. He listened to me and told me it's part of being a T1 diabetic. I know it is. Does that make it any easier or more bearable? Don't think so. I really want to find a way to cope better with these swings. I don't want to be the party pooper because I'm messed up by lows and highs. Going out with friends and having a good time, is just one of those things I love to do. Having a good meal and great conversations, but always with diabetes in the back of my head, is part of it. I prefer to have one cool glass of Chardonnay with my meal, rather than having beer or cocktails. Making sure I have some carbs while sipping my wine, I try to prevent lows later on.

I don't know what caused my roller coaster last night, but it was no fun, I can assure you. I was exhausted (well, not just from the highs and lows - I'm nearly 42 and no longer used to staying up that late) and all I wanted to do, was lie down and catch some sleep. Just little time after closing my eyes, my Dexcom beeped. I opened one eye to take a look: 71 Not bad. I would love to have this number all day, but not to go to sleep. I reached for the bottle of Glucotabs I brought from my recent trip to Florida and shook a couple of tabs into my hand. I hate dextrose. They dry out your mouth and leave you with a stuffed feeling, like having chewed on cotton balls. But o well, I had already drunk 3 small cans of coke prior to the tablets. I closed my eyes, turned over and clamped my Dexcom in one hand. Not for too long: there was the alarm again. I looked over to my Hubby, who was sound asleep in the hotel bed. Reaching out for the bottle of Glucotabs a second time, I knew it was going to be a very short night. I was so exhausted and I knew we had to get up in just a couple of hours. Diabetes, I hate it when you deprive my sleep. I feel like crap after short nights and especially if they have been interrupted for lows. Ten Glucotabs later, it was time to get up and get ready for breakfast with our friends. I could do with some coffee and toast. It felt like a terrible hangover, without having had the alcohol. If it's a choice not to have alcohol, is there a way to choose not to have lows at night?

Yolo???

I was talking to my friend on the phone, when all of a sudden she said: Yolo! I said: yo what? She was like: yolo! You don't know what yolo means??

Although I have friends of all ages, I had no idea what yolo meant. It's just one of those expressions, kids use nowadays. I should've guessed the meaning, since I try to live by this motto day by day. Maybe I should use the Yolo thing more often. It sounds kinda cool, don't you think? I can't recall my children using it. I might check with them tomorrow, to see if they know. I'm pretty sure they will give me the rolling eyes-look, like in Mom.. who have you been talking to?

Life is what you make of it. You have the choice, to live it to the fullest or to let life live you. You only live once, you know. At least, that's what we believe. So why not make the best of it? Life can be over before we know it. 

Seventh Heaven

Yesterday, she texted me and I smiled because of the joy in the message. She's in her early 30's and besides being a stunning mom of two brilliant twin boys, she's a lawyer and she's a sportswoman. Did I mention she has type 1 diabetes too? She's out of her honeymoon period now, meaning her pancreas made it final: he's not planning on making any more insulin. Where in the past two years, she could count on her panky to make some insulin, helping her get decent A1c's. That period is gone. It's up to her now, for she can no longer rely on her pancreas to help out. It scared her and her A1c went up. She fears the lows for getting unconscious as much as she fears the highs, for future complications. She was getting a bit desperate and her family was worried sick about her last low nighttime episode..

"He works with computers". That's how his mom calls it. Maybe I'm like his mom, for not knowing exactly what he does for a living. It involves software and Delphi language or something, I guess. He has told me on numerous occasions, since we monthly go out for lunch. D came into his life 3 years ago. He had panic attacks for a long time. They came back right after being diagnosed with D, for a different reason now. The fear of diabetic lows is grabbing him by the throat. He insisted on getting an insulin pump, despite good numbers and a A1c in the 5 region. He needed that pump to keep breathing. But it was not sufficient enough. It didn't warn him of upcoming lows.

I met her a couple of years ago. She has the same age as our oldest daughter. She was too young when she got diagnosed. She was a teen for god's sake. Why did she need to get this awful disease too? She didn't want no insulin pump dangling from her tummy. But we met and I let her figure out where my pump was hiding. She couldn't find it and she called for the nurse to sign up for an insulin pump. 

Her mom worried a lot about her at night. Would she be okay? Would she poke her fingers before bedtime and wake up while experiencing a low? 

A young student of 25, with a girlfriend and a baby boy. His diabetes was a bit out of control. He found it hard to poke his fingers all the time, so he forgot. As a medical student, he knew about the complications diabetes may bring you, so he wanted something else to help him move forward.

It had a been a long time since we've set a date. But we keep in touch and write emails every now and then. She's in a different relationship now and she's doing real well. Being diagnosed T2 as a young woman, she's not entitled to using an insulin pump. Her endocrinologist thought differently and signed her up for the medical device that would change her treatment. It made her feel a lot more secure. Just not secure enough, because lows were hiding behind the corner, to catch her when she was not paying attention. She has a little boy that needs his mommy. She wants to be around for a very long time. If only someone could help her get over that fear for lows, it would help her lower her A1c and get better control.

No more than 1 year ago, he was diagnosed as well. I remember how little insulin he needed in those first months. He was determined to give his utmost and do the best he could to keep this condition under control. Being on 4 injections and multiple finger pokes a day, he dusted his mountain bike and joined his friends on trips. Sports is good for us. Why doesn't diabetes know that? At least, D could be a bit more considerate and leave out the lows and highs during work outs. It would make things a bit easier. Wasn't there something better that could help him during training?

I haven't met too many diabetics that have had their condition for over 30 years. It somehow scared me to hear her story. Having lost complete sight in one eye and partial sight in the other is awful. She's such a pretty woman.  She has a man who stands by her side and accompanies her to doctor's appointments. She's shooting up insulin. Pumping was not her cup of tea. She tried it, about 10 years ago. Things were a bit different back then and technology has improved since. I thought she deserved better aids and better control. I contacted her and we started to write to each other until we finally met and had the chance to embrace each other. 

He has been a great help for many of us diabetics. Of all diabetics I know (and I know some), I've known him for the longest time. It must be more than 5 years now. I know how opposed he is to insulin pumps and how stubborn he is in showing that insulin pens are as efficient.  I like his stubbornness though. I prefer to call it perseverance. He's a good bloke and he's helped me out on numerous occasions when once again, I forgot how many carbs a certain food contained. I would only have to open HelpDiabetes, the program he wrote for us to use for free. As opposed he is to insulin pumps, I could tell he was interested in CGM.

My endocrinologist said I didn't need CGM. My A1c level was 7.1 and that is not life threatening. One doesn't get these numbers just like that. It takes a whole lot of work to get there and it consumes a lot of daily energy to stay there. CGM is expensive and at your own expense. It is my diabetes, a condition I share with many friends. It is my body, my life and my choice of treatment. 

That makes 9 of us already. 9 stories, all different reasons with a mutual factor: diabetes. A new world has opened. A milestone in our treatment. Dexcom is different. It's out there and it's getting closer. It is within reach. You don't have to wait for your doctor to tell you about it. Button up your shirt and ask him about Dexcom. Make your own file and document your questions and express your concerns about future complications. The people at Dexcom are there for you. They can help you get better control. They are there, 24/7, just like Diabetes. That's what we were looking for. Continuous Glucose Monitoring that we can rely on. A device we can trust on for knowing what trend our blood glucose is following. We are happy with our glucometers, but knowing where our numbers are headed to, is a bonus. Not essential to some, indispensable to others. It's your choice. It's your life. It's Dexcom.

Things are getting out of hand here

Photo Eva Joos

It has to stop. I spend more time in my kitchen than ever. Have no idea what's gotten into me lately, but I just can't stop cook and bake. Recipes are being read and made instantly. Not just one recipe a day, I'm talking like 6 or even 7 recipes a day. Reading about this, makes me sick to my stomach. It's a good thing though, I don't eat it all. But like someone asked me this week: who eats all of that food??? I didn't know the answer to that question. It made me reflect over why this is happening.

Let's discuss today, for example. What have I been doing all day? It started out this morning, with breakfast in one hand, and the other hand on the keyboard of my laptop. Trying to figure out what I could make this very same day. Since Hubby needed an early lunch before he headed off to work, I had defrosted veal chops the night before. I hate ordinary cooking, so I googled "veal chops" and "Italian recipe".

Foto Cathy Van de Moortele

I love to cook Italian dishes and I love the herbs and simplicity in the food. It is simple and honest food, but it's not ordinary. It's not like frying up some sausages. I need more excitement, I need passion in my cooking. So Hubby ended up with a plate of saltimbocca alla Romana and stewed string beans.  By the sight of his cleared plate and the compliments, I couldn't but agree it had been tasteful.
By then I was thinking of what I could make for lunch for me and the girls. I had loads of fresh whole wheat cappellini I had made the day before. So I was thinking I could make a pasta dish with browned butter and sage sauce and.. Can you hear me rattle on? I had to pick up Lana in Eeklo, so that gave me the opportunity to run some more errands. I wanted to please her with her special ravioli she craves: with a filling of goat's cheese, ground hazelnuts, slivers of summer truffle and soft bacon bits, it's just sublime. It is my signature dish. But she said she had already eaten ravioli just the day before, while my sister-in-law was here for cooking class.. Hmhmhm... she got a point there. So maybe she wasn't interested in another match of meringue with lemon curd either? Well... desserts are always a hit around this house.

I whipped up the 6 egg whites I had kept in my fridge (meringues come out better when using egg whites that are a couple of days old) and I preheated the oven. That's when it occurred to me, that we didn't have any bread for tonight's dinner. Okay, I could've sent one of the girls to the bakery to get a fresh loaf, but since the oven was heating.. So I wanted to give that Dutch crunch bread recipe another go. The girls were giving me that look.. you know.. the rolling eyes.

Photo Cathy Van de Moortele

I was thinking of that huge basket of laundry that needs to be ironed. It has been sitting upstairs for over more than 2 weeks already. But strangely, the thought of the wrinkled laundry vanished real fast. Another recipe crossed my mind! After all, I had not yet tested the new ice cream maker! How about butterscotch ice cream? Wouldn't that be great???

While the ice cream maker was running, I had the time to chop up some Werther's Original Caramelts to top the butterscotch ice cream with. Some disappeared in my mouth, while I took a peek in the oven to see how the meringues were doing. My mind was drifting off, thinking about dinner for the following day. Sunday is a working day for both Hubby and I. I need time to cook, so I wanted to think of some Sunday recipe I could make in advance. Coming home around 6:15 PM, I will only have to heat up the Coq au Vin to feed my crowd. Did I mention the asparagus soup that was sitting on the stove? The girls don't eat that much soup, but when I blend it and make sure it's silky and smooth, they don't mind having a bowl. After all, they do need their veggies right?

Photo Cathy Van de Moortele

The Dutch crunch bread came out real well this time. I was proud of myself! There was some leftover whole wheat bread I had baked the day before, so we ate half of that and half of the fresh loaf.

My back is hurting. My shoulders ache and my knees could use some rest. Time to sit down and read some.. cookbooks. How about I make a deal with myself, that next week, I will do more of the household chores and less of the cooking fun? I have about half an hour to relax now. It's only 9:30 PM. I could make some more tortellini filled with 4 different kinds of meat and a luscious marinara sauce, you know. I want to bring this pasta dish to work tomorrow. I'm sure the family would love to try it.. I'll make tomorrow's oatmeal and red fruit cereal first. Can't miss breakfast, can I?

Conviviality

My sister-in-law and I, we make a good team. Her infectious laugh makes me wanna pee in my pants. Right after we finished vegetarian cooking class, we decided we wanted to go through with these cooking sessions. Plans were made to have an Italian cooking class at my place and after she picked some recipes from my food blog, we set a date.

Mikey has had the opportunity to take Italian speech classes and I envy her for having visited Italy on numerous occasions. In fact, she and her boyfriend are going to the picturesque Monforte d'Alba this summer. I googled the community and I must say: I wouldn't hesitate to join her. How familiar it sounded when she said she was already looking into where they would have dinner.. That's exactly what I would look into! We love to eat and we share the same love for food and cooking.

Today's class was about making pasta. We started out with an Italian appetizer of crispy "finocchio ciappe" crackers with a dip of peppers and walnut. The pasta machine comes in real handy if you want your ciappe real thin and crispy. Mikey had brought a bottle of Martini Royale Bianco. The counter was full of supplies and all dusted with semolina flour. Ready to start making fresh pasta!

My heart swelled with pride when I saw Mikey's enthousiasm once her first cappellini rolled out of the pasta machine. She was so thrilled and the giggles that came from her direction, were very satisfying. She wanted to show her boyfriend and family how well she could make pasta and I'm sure they will agree with her on the taste and softness of her home cooked pasta dishes.

Lana watched us make her favorite ravioli with a filling of goat's cheese, roasted hazelnuts, some slivers of summer truffle and tender bacon bits. Covered in a cream sauce with snipped chives and some extra truffle oil, these ravioli are so sublime, this signature recipe could definitely win a cooking contest. Once the ravioli were put into the freezer to set, we were ready for the more advanced class of making tortellini. It takes some skill to form these precious goodies filled with ricotta and fresh herbs. You have to make sure they come out round and evenly and you have to be aware the filling doesn't spill. I must say, my sister-in-law did real well. It took me many hours and several attempts of watching video tutorials before my first perfect tortellini hit the tray. I could feel her excitement and I'm sure she would eat her little treasures with pride and joy.

We enjoyed lunch together with the whole family, since the girls were home after their exams and hubby had the day off. There was a choice of different ravioli and sauces I had already prepared in advance. Our tummies filled with tender pasta, we headed back to the kitchen to continue our cooking class. There was some leftover poached chicken in my fridge, so we decided to make some ravissimo with smoked paprika chicken mousse. They came out real well and the freezer got stuffed with our little parcels of surprises.



Over latte macchiato and dessert (Mikey had brought some delicious home made amaretti and mascarpone mousse), she asked me when we would have our second cooking class together. I'm looking forward to that! I'm ready to try out her dessert recipe, so my family can enjoy an excellent dessert after another pasta meal.

Thank you for coming over sis. I'm sure we will do this again.. Your car was stuffed with goodies and I'm sure you boyfriend and the little guy enjoyed their Italian meal..

It's been seven hours and fifteen days..

Photo Lana Joos

Not really. It's been a whole lot more. Eleven years, to be exact. It's been E-LE-VEN ! years since I got diagnosed with D. It was a scary moment but at the same time a moment of relief and understanding. I was glad a doctor finally took me and my symptoms serious. A doctor, who - by a simple poke in my finger - could tell me the symptoms I had, were the symptoms of diabetes. She didn't have to hesitate, since the number on the screen of her glucometer was 599 mg/dl. If you know that normal sober numbers are below 100 mg/dl, it doesn't take much disbelief to realize this was actually diabetes. Did she say: DIE-a-beetus??? She sure told me about complications like kidney failure, amputation of toes and even feet, loss of eye sight, heart failure.. Grumble. Not very pretty you know. I asked her when those complications would first show their face. She told me I could expect the first signs of complications 10 years after diagnosis. Hello? I was nearly 31 when she found out. Did that mean, that by the time I was 41, I would need dialysis 3 times a week? Would I have to wear orthopedic shoes to help me walk after having my toes surgically removed? Would I ever see my kids grow up into beautiful adults?

Right there and then, I was determined I was going to do the best I could, to prevent myself from getting those nasty complications. I was put on injections 4 times a day and had to poke my fingers as many times. I was told how much insulin I had to inject for my meals and what I was supposed to eat to cover that. The dietitian told me I had to weigh a 300 gr portion of boiled potatoes (!), a fair amount of vegetables and a small part of meat or fish for my warm supper. I could no longer eat fruit or dairy products without thinking and I had to give up on sweets. I was lucky she didn't forbid me to drink diet coke..

It didn't take me long to accept the verdict. I didn't mind poking my fingers, I didn't care about the needles that punctured my skin while injecting insulin. I hated that Lantus though.. It had to be injected in my thigh and it gave me a burning sensation and pain, every time I forced myself to inject. Some years later, I had to divide that ugly Lantus into two portions: one in the morning, one at night. It didn't work well for me. I had quite a bit of high readings and my doctor wasn't very happy with the way I treated my diabetes. In fact she thought of me like I was her worst patient ever.. My hemoglobin HbA1c didn't drop below 8.5% while I was her patient and my weight kept going up. I was unhappy with how things were going and I started to dislike D. But hey! Diabetes is chronic, forever, for life!

After 4 years and numerous shots later, I decided to give the insulin pump a try and like the saying: once you go black, you never go back, it's the same with the insulin pump. I would harm you if you would try to steal or break my pump. It's what keeps me alive and it's what gives me better control.

Just this year, 7 years of pumping and poking my fingers at least 6 times a day, I decided it was time to move on. Since my Dexcom CGM entered my life, I no longer fear complications. Dexcom will help me get better control and teach me about my body and how food, exercise, stress, emotions, work, sickness have their effect on my blood sugar. I'm grateful that I got diabetes in the 21st century and the fact that we have access to the most modern treatments, is a bonus.

I'm planning on living a whole lot more years of a complication free life with D. After all, I'm more than complicated already..

I'll take it!

We were in South-Africa. My mother and I, that is. Invited by our neighbor's son, who was a missionary back then in Potchefstroom, we were enjoying the South-African sun. Roaming around on a local market, we were the attraction of the day. In those days, apartheid was still very hot. We were not racist at all. On the contrary, we wanted to mingle with the locals. They were not very happy with our decision and apparently it was very inconvenient and uncomfortable for them. They didn't trust our presence. We didn't know any better, being the naive tourists we were. When I think of it, even back then, at the age of 19, I was already interested in food. I loved to stroll on the local markets and discover new products. There was this old lady, dressed in a colorful but shabby dress. She had very little things to sell and most of it was barely noticeable, because of all the flies sitting on top of the fruit and vegetables. I was so curious to find out what that black, leather look like fruit was. We asked if we could pick it up. I tried to smell it, but couldn't identify the fruit. The lady laughed and showed the leftovers of what once was her beautiful denture. She picked three pieces of what we were pointing at and put it in a brown paper bag. We couldn't wait to cut that mysterious piece of fruit. We brought it back to the house we were staying at and asked the cook of the house what we had bought. He couldn't stop laughing, for we had bought overripe avocados... We were so stupid.. we had never seen ripe avocados before, for back in those days, nobody had ever bought avocados where we lived.. I can tell you: avocados have to be ripe, but skip the mushy ones. They are no good..

Feminine features

You said you fell in love with me for my fantastic calves. Those calves were the proof of my sporty nature. At least, that's what you thought. Either I was fond of riding my bicycle or I must go for long walks. I did neither one.. I don't know how I ended up with those nice muscular lower legs, but you were not the first to say. I have always liked my lower legs, just like you have. I still don't ride bicycles (what were you thinking) and I only walk from the front door to the car. But yes, I have convinced myself sports could be good for me. Well, I haven't convinced myself, my diabetic friends have. One of them told me I am really good at motivating others, but I don't work out myself. And he's absolutely right. I haven't been much of an example when it comes to exercising. I think I'm just too lazy for sports.

For a number of times now, I have packed my sports bag to go to the swimming pool. My first attempt was really pathetic. I didn't know how to swim right or keep my head under water. But I went and I got into the freezing cold water and yes, I complained and nagged a lot. Things have gone better over time. I even schedule my swim moment in my agenda, so I don't let anything interfere. Most of the times, hubby joins me, but if he can't or doesn't feel like it, I go by myself. I'm doing better now. Two new swimsuits, goggles and a  nose clip have been added to my back pack and that makes the swimming easier. It's good to know that Mr Baywatch is keeping an eye on me. He knows about my diabetes and he keeps an eye on my glucometer and Dexcom for me. I always bring a small can of regular coke, just in case. Whenever I stop swimming somewhere in the middle of the pool, he runs to me to check if I'm okay. I have told him now, that if I see he's worried, I will raise my thumb. If I don't, it means I'm in trouble.

Last week, I went to the pool all by myself. There weren't many school kids and I no longer fear the cold water. Now I can actually say I don't even mind the coldness. I march down the steps, right in to the water. Goggles in place, nose clip ready and there I go. I swim 10 lengths and I come out of the water to check my Dexcom. Most of the times, I need 1 small can of coke by then. I have my coke and I go back into the water. I can see people look at the transmitter on my upper arm, but I don't care. It's there to help me keep control and it makes me feel more secure in the water.

I'm proud of myself. If the swimming could turn my back into a V-shape, that would be awesome. It will probably never happen, but it can't harm to dream, can it?

Monday Monday

Never before had I heard about The Mamas & The Papas. This American vocal folk group was very popular in the sixties, I was told. The little girl I took care of at the time, had one of their tapes and she knew all the songs by heart. At first I wasn't that impressed with the music, but over the weeks I learned to appreciate it. Every morning, when I would take Natalie to school, I would put the tape in the recorder and we would start to sing along. We had to cross several bridges in downtown Portland, to drop off her parents at work, before we would continue our way to the French school Natalie was frequenting. Since we always played that same tape, it was a sport to make sure the correct song was playing nearby the correct bridge. Depending on traffic, we would make it or not. That one song I never forgot, was Monday Monday. The two of us would sing real loud. Natalie would be sitting in the back in her car seat, a smile from ear to ear. I would dress her in the morning, and I remember being goofy by giving her two different colored sneakers. She would wear a white sneaker with a pink sock and a pink sneaker with a white sock. It instantly brightened our day. I liked taking Natalie to school. I would pick her up around lunch time and then the game would start all over again. Another favorite of ours, was Dream a little dream of me. It was pretty melancholic and dramatic and you should've seen our faces while singing the lyrics. That must have been totally ridiculous for the people in the cars around us. But we could care less. Our time in the car was never boring. Thanks to The Mamas & The Papas. 

Daddy's girls

They lay down on the couch, their eyes closing every now and then, to continue their dreams of chasing cats and bunnies. It's still very quiet around the house. The sunbeams peek through the windows and I have turned down the volume of the radio, for I don't want to disturb the silence of this Sunday morning. Right above my head, I hear him stumble out of bed. Inthe has heard something too, for she's pointing one ear and her eyes are open wide. Could it be? Is it time to get up? O yes! I can hear daddy flush the toilet before he comes down the stairs. Backwards, of course, just the way his mom taught him as a child. Some of the steps are creaking but that's part of the charm of a one century old house. By the time dad is down the hallway, both dogs are waiting for him by the door. They are all excited, to be seen by the wagging of their tail. He has a hard time coming inside, because they are blocking the doorway. Daddy's here! Daddy's here! How lovely!

While I make coffee, Daddy scratches his hair and yawns away the sleep. He rubs his eyes and touches his beard, to see if he needs a shave. Both dogs are sitting beside him at the kitchen table. They are like statues, so quiet. Their gaze is focused on one person: Daddy.. He tells them he wants to have his yogurt and cereal breakfast before the walk. So they wait a bit longer. Once he gets up and puts on his clothes, Inthe becomes his very own shadow. She won't loose track of him now. Rebba is more chill about it. So she strolls back to the couch, throws out the pillows I just rearranged, scratches the cushions and then finds a better spot on the other side. Her head is pointed towards the kitchen though and her ears are turning constantly. Daddy is looking for his shoes and when he opens the door to get the leashes, Inthe is loosing her marbles. She sticks to his leg and follows him all around. As a joke, he walks around the table and she is right there, beside him.

"Wanna go for a walk?" Inthe puts her legs right on his shoulders and licks his ears and nose. Her tail is even more excited and can't stop wagging. Rebba is trying to look the most uninterested as possible. She's a bit different, you know. She needs her own special invitation. Daddy walks towards Rebba and asks her in a soft voice: "Wanna go for a walk, Rebba?". "Who? Me? Really? Are you kidding me? Of course!". That's when Rebba finally gets of the couch to put on her leash. Both dogs look at me like if they want to say: aren't you coming, mom?

The house is quiet again. The dogs are enjoying their walk. They are marking their territory as often as they can, before Daddy frees them from their leashes. They can run their lungs out at the soccer field, playing fetch and chasing each other. Daddy gets to pick up the poop and trash the purple bags somewhere along the line. The girls are so different and yet so much alike. Almost like our two daughters, I guess. The oldest dog has Daddy's last name, while Inthe is carrying my last name. Just like Lana looks after her father and Eva is mommy's girl. People may have the same features as their pets. Sometimes the children do too..

Eye to eye

I don't remember whether we had a membership to the magazine or not, but we sure got hold of it every week. "Joepie" magazine was real hot in our days. Every teen had to read it and not skip one article. There were interesting columns and youngsters could send in questions they had on most any subject. You would read answers on how to French kiss or if you could get pregnant by holding hands with your boyfriend. Really important! There was no Internet back then and if we wanted to contact the editors, we had to send them a real, handwritten letter. That was a big deal, because that letter needed a stamp so we needed money (that we didn't have). I don't think I ever sent in a question, but I did read all of the Q&A's other people sent in. Some answers were a big relief and other answers I had to read twice for I didn't understand. Being 13 in the beginning of the 80's was a bit different from being 13 nowadays. We were very naive and ignorant and certainly not informed about grown up matters.
Anyway, reading the "Joepie" was good for English class as well. Every week, the lyrics of popular songs would be written down for us to read and learn by heart. Most of the time, we would just sing along and mimic the words, for we didn't understand anything of the contents but some words. Just this very same day, we were singing along with Too Shy by Kajagoogoo, when I realized we needed the lyrics. I haven't read the "Joepie" for a very long time but there is the Internet now. You're only one click away from finding the exact words to a song. Kajagoogoo had the right words: eye to eye, while we had been singing I do I for as many years. We must have skipped that "Joepie" edition, I'm sure of it.

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.

I'm on board

When you asked me to join you to cooking class, I didn't hesitate one moment. I love cooking classes! There are always new things to learn and when you explained this class was vegetarian, I wanted to go. The teacher has a history of knowledge on cooking macrobiotic meals and she is more than willing to share that information with us. I'm not much of a meat eater, but I'm no vegetarian either. I like my vegetables, don't get me wrong, but I'm not really familiar with the vegetarian diet. So I packed my notebook and I was very anxious to learn more about it.

My sister-in-law has been working for this company in vegetarian produce and she's a fan of the diet. I know she has a lot of knowledge to share as well. So yes, I'm happy she asked me to join her. I have eaten things I had never tasted before. Some I liked, some were a real turn off, but I'm open to tasting anything. I'm a little hesitant to bring the produce into our home, since my husband is a meat eater. He would not replace his meat by substitutes. I don't look at it that way. I don't want to replace anything. I see vegetarian food as a bonus to my dishes. It's good to bring some variation into your diet, so you get to absorb all the vitamins one could possibly need.

Looking forward to the next class. I'll see you in a bit.

Do you remember the times...

Her name was Kathy. She was my best friend in elementary school. We would sit next to each other from first grade until sixth grade and were really upset if we couldn't for some reason. Because we shared our name, our friends would refer to us as Kathy 1 and Cathy 2. She was Kathy 1, first in the alphabet by her last name. We lived on the same street and we would always walk home together. Her parents were divorced and that was not very common in those days. She was a quiet girl, but very outgoing when we were together.

On the playground, we would hold hands and play games. She would bring her elastic band and I would bring a hool-a-hoop. I have no idea if kids still play these games during recess? The elastic band game asked for 3 kids, at the least. Two kids had to step inside and hold the band around their ankles. Another child would jump over and in between the elastic band by a certain sequence. If the child had finished that sequence, the elastic band would be shifted up higher, up to the calves, then the back of the knees, thighs and waistline. Most of the time, we wouldn't be able to finish the game, for the schoolbell would disturb us. There was always another recess to continue the game. Thinking about it, brings back good memories of my friendship with Kathy 1. I hear from her every now and then. She has two kids, just like we do. Isn't it funny that her and our youngest went to summer camp together, not knowing their moms used to be best friends? We didn't find out until after camp. But that was kinda weird to know. She looks so much like her mom and Kathy 1 said the same about our daughter. L'histoire se répète, one could think. But that won't happen. The girls are no longer in elementary school. Teens don't play old-time-games any more. But I'm happy they still have best friends to talk to. I'm sure they have a lot to discuss, just like we did in our days..

I have this crazy idea

My husband says I'm not normal. To a certain extend, I can't blame him for saying so. It's probably not very common to start cooking as soon as you read a recipe. He's always amazed at how I can start to cook just out of the blue, no matter what time of day it is. It's not about the eating, it's all about the cooking or baking. If I get hold of a cookbook full of pictures, it just makes my mouth water and my fingers itch to get at it. So I think about my supplies and an instant smile appears on my face if I'm sure I have all the products in my pantry. Whether I want to cook mushroom soup with three kinds of mushrooms or bake bread rolls or a moist rhubarb pie: I can do it. In the meantime, I prepare my oatmeal and fruit breakfast for the next day or I beat batter to make pancakes for tea. Sometimes the bowl of my Kenwood has to be taken out of the dishwasher to serve for the next recipe. Am I crazy? Obsessed? Totally insane? Probably. But I love it. I love the chaos and the activity around the kitchen. TV doesn't do anything for me. Except if the Food Channel is on. Maybe I should have a TV in my kitchen, so I can watch new recipes while I'm cooking and indulge all that new cookspiration.. Can't wait to do some more grocery shopping. I'm mentally preparing myself to the menu of the week and I'm getting all hyper over it. Now let me be, okay? I have to stir that sauce and check the oven, for the house is smelling of home made bread..

Flash in the pan

Okay, this is the deal. I have this book on baking bread (yes, I have more than one and I read them like novels) and finally I have found the time to start acting. I have read all the guidelines and reviews of other bakers and I felt like I was ready set go. Not that I haven't baked bread in the past, but I have always had the feeling that I lacked professional background. The breads tasted right, but they did not always proof the way I wanted them to. Some breads had holes in them (they were not donuts, so there were not supposed to be holes in the middle), others were chewy and not risen to the fullest.

Photo Cathy Van de Moortele

There is this Dutch lady on Facebook I have been reading for a while. I follow her recipes and I read the reviews. This week I made my first order in an online bakery shop and the goodies came in the very next day. Can you imagine the butterflies inside my tummy? I'm sure my friend Jan has this same feeling when his goodies from Ali Express fall on his doormat..

I love the Internet. You can communicate with other bakers and the responses come as fast as you can type. It's been a big help so far. My first bread according to the new guidelines, came out real well. I'm not being real honest now. The first bread ended up in the bin.. it didn't even make it until "bread" phase. I trashed the dough, for it was too tough. I tried to soften it up by adding some more lukewarm water and oil, but that ruined the whole recipe. So I started all over. (thank me for all of the extra supplies in the pantry - I can give myself a pat on the shoulder for that.)
So the first/second bread came out and it had risen all above the tin, just like it was supposed to do. The crust was just perfect and we couldn't wait for it to cool down so we got the bread knife out. The top of this Tiger Bread or Dutch Crunch bread is supposed to look like Tiger fur.. well.. it didn't. It doesn't change anything to the taste, but it didn't look right.

I'm stubborn. I wanted my Tiger Bread to look like Tiger Bread. So later that night, I started all over, again. Darn me! When did I run out of fresh yeast? I did have some grain yeast in my pantry. Although I prefer the real stuff, there shouldn't be a problem with prepacked yeast. When I lifted the towel to check on the bread, I immediately knew this bread was not going to proof in the same way as the other one. I should've waited for my baker to open his shop in the morning, so I could get fresh yeast. O well. I'll do it again. Monday, I promise. 

Born again

Sometimes in life, we do things or make choices we later regret. No matter what led us to making that choice, we should hold ourselves responsible. There may be circumstances where one could say: I honestly believe you had such a rough time that you saw no other way than to do what you did. Of course there where other solutions, but you were either not ready to see them or you chose to pursue the only way you knew. It takes courage to change your ways and perseverance to go on. Giving up will most certainly have been a possibility that crossed your mind. Something or someone must have given you the strength to give up your addiction and start all over. With a family of 5 children, things needed to change. You were about to loose your job over your addiction and that would've been a total disaster. Your children have only known you as a father that was never present. They missed a dad, being there for them. They remember you as being away or claiming the couch because the alcohol had made you sleepy. The day you gave up drinking, your children were no longer children. They already had a life of their own. Have you set an example to your children? Did you ever talk to them about what an addiction means to your family? It's been 21 years now, since you have sobered up. I met you 19 years ago and I've never seen the drunk man you were before. Every Monday, you meet with your fellow friends to talk about your addiction. I don't know all of the steps in the plan, but is there a step that teaches you how to talk about your addiction with your family? Are you never afraid one of your children will become an addict as well? I know it scares me.. They say kids mimic their parents. If you grow up with a parent who thought drinking is a normal way of life, does that make you more vulnerable to getting an addiction yourself? Is the drinking a way of dealing with problems and emotions? How do you deal with issues if the only way you know, is loosing yourself in alcohol..

I'm happy you have been sober for 21 years. It gave you a different life. You have been given a second chance to be born again. I hope you are happy with the choices you have made. It was to the benefit of your family. Has it been beneficial to you too?

Let's call it a day

It's quiet around here. Apart from the monotonous sound of the dishwasher and a lonely car passing by, I can not hear anything but the sound of my dogs lips, while breathing out. Taking a look to my right, there is our tomcat Arthur, safekeeping the remote control. Only a few inches apart, Inthe is sunken in a deep sleep and breathing heavily. Would she be dreaming about chasing hares or getting a treat of dried cow's ears? I love to observe their ways and I often wonder what they would think. Rebba's nose is touching Inthe's bum, as they lay beside each other on the couch. Rebba's teeth are showing and I can see her Adam's apple going up and down as she swallows. Her heart is pounding rapidly in her supersoft chest. It feels like it's made out of shammy. I like to stroke her chest. Whippets have very soft and vulnerable skin and..

It's 23:15. I should be in bed by now. Can't stop looking for recipes though. The house is still smelling of the Italian ciappe I made and I'm sure I overdid on trying them out. Too much carbs for a late night snack, but I couldn't resist to try some ciappe with pesto. The number on my Dexcom says 183 and a downwards pointing arrow is reassuring me I won't need any more insulin to correct that number.

Had some lovely conversations today. Have been asked to give two more presentations on diabetes. Two lunch dates have been set and one of them is going to be a blind date with a person I have only known by mail so far. Exciting!

It was a productive day as well. Being introduced to vegetarian cooking is interesting. In cooking class you get to meet new people and you get the chance to share opinions and ideas on food and cooking. We exchanged foodblog links and webshop addresses and it won't be a surprise to you that I have made new wishlists. In between cooking class and setting appoints, I found the time to reorganize half of my pantry. I felt like a kid in a candy shop, typing necessities on my BlackBerry grocery list.

I needed some distraction today. It was good to talk to my friends and hear their voices. There is one voice I will never hear again. One person I will never again exchange recipes with. Her Christmas cookies in a jar will never be opened, for I want to keep them as a memory of my friend Suz McDonnell.. Her passing away has made me realize once more how precious life is and how short our time on this planet can be. I don't want to go to bed yet. Maybe there's no time to waste. Maybe I don't want to lie down and let my mind wander. I need some time by myself, to reflect over life and the afterlife.. 

Self-reliance

When I taught my children how to wash their laundry or iron their clothes at the age of 12, it was not meant as a punishment or as slavery. I wanted to teach them about the importance of being self-reliant. I wanted them to be independent teens going into adulthood. They know how to cook simple meals. They know where to find things at the supermarket and they make their own appointments with the hairdresser or doctor. It's good to see that they gain more confidence every time they stretch their limits. They may not fully realize it now, but they will once they will leave the house to go live by themselves or with a partner.

I was in highschool. Probably around the age of 15. We had sewing class (I don't know if they still do sewing class nowadays) and the theme of that month was: sew your own skirt. I sucked at sewing. It didn't interest me either. In fact, I could care less. I liked the teacher though. We got along well but sewing was just not my cup of tea.
My mother is a seamstress. She sews for a living. The most obvious thing to do, was to let her make the skirt for me. I didn't even assist her or asked her about the way she was going to design the skirt. I knew what it was supposed to look like, because my teacher had briefed us.
The next time in class, we had to show our work in progress. Not one student could show anything decent or be optimistic about the assignment. To the surprise of my classmates and the teacher, my skirt was already finished. The teacher was full of joy and she asked me to step forward and show the others how I had made the skirt. All of a sudden, I was sick to my stomach. I told her I felt nauseous  Could I go see the school nurse?

Without any doubt, my skirt looked the most professional and I got fabulous grades on my report card. Was I proud of myself? Did I learn anything? Apparently not.. my husband is good at sewing buttons on shirts or fixing holes in clothes. He didn't have a mom to fix everything for him. He had nobody else to rely on. He learned a good lesson..

Reality strikes

I met Suz on Facebook, through a mutual friend. We exchanged several mails and pretty soon, we realized we had so much in common. Suz is Canadian and she got married to her big love, Wilfried, who is half Belgian but lives in Holland. Looking through their marriage album, anyone can tell how happy they were on their wedding day.

Suz and Wilfried came to visit us around Christmas. There was not one minute of silence between us. We discussed recipes and we both spoke our favorite language: English. Wilfried had his coffee and I could see the admiration in his eyes, while observing the love of his life. These two were truly made for each other. You were so excited about your upcoming trip to Canada. You wanted to bring Wilfried along and show him your region. How sad were you, when the C-word came in the picture again and ruined your plans.

I knew about the C-word that had affected Suzy's life. When she told me her back hurt like crazy, she went to see several doctors and therapists. Her worst fear was back... oh Suz.. why? You were so happy with your Wilfried and your furry friends. The way you talked about your kitchen and the Creuset cooked meals for your husband, that really warmed my heart. You had to go back to the hospital. Things weren't going well, but you were courageous and determined and Wilfried was the most supportive man. Nearly every day, you posted a picture of you in the hospital, on Facebook. You wanted us to know how you were doing. People from all over the world supported you and we loved seeing how you continued to take care of yourself. Wilfried brought your own pillow cases, so you would feel at home. You found the energy to put on bright lipstick or make some decorative element in your hairdo. We loved your hats and you wore them like a queen!
You were so sorry to loose your hair again, but proud as you were, you could put that pride aside and take off your blonde wig. That's you, Suz. Just the way you are: nothing to hide. Your inner beauty is plenty. It made us forget the baldness. You were very good at staying strong and keeping your calm although your inner fear must have been so big. We all knew how much you loved Wilfried. You saw his sadness and you didn't want him to suffer..

I hadn't read much from you in the last two weeks. You didn't post any pictures and you didn't write down your thoughts. That was worrisome. When Wilfried posted some updates, we all realized things weren't going right. Your energy levels were dropping and you were getting sicker.

Today Wilfried had to make the most difficult decision ever. Medication was not kicking in and the doctors had told him there was not much left they could do. I'm so happy Suz had talked this over with Wilfried. The doctors have put Suz in a deep sleep, to make sure she won't have any more pain. It might be a matter of days. This is so sad, but it's the last Wilfried can do for his lovely wife. What a brave man. What a brave couple. Don't be sad, he says. It has been enough. Suz is done fighting. She needs peace now..

Dear Suz, I had no idea this would affect me so much. One moment, you were sitting around my coffee table. Now you're in a deep sleep. We didn't have time to say goodbye. I don't want to say goodbye. I want to read you, I want to see your pictures and your wonderful smile. I want to see your hairbands and your lipstick and I want Wilfried to polish your toenails. You're done fighting Suz. You have done so much, but there's nothing more you can do. You are loved by so many and so is Wilfried. Your love will always remain.. Then why is there this ugly lump in my throat?

Your wedding picture says: All I want to do, is grow old with you.. I'm so sorry for the both of you. May 2012 was such a great month for you both. I'm so happy you finally got to marry this wonderful man... Keep an eye on  him, Suz. I'm sure you will inspire many people from wherever you are..

R.I.P. Suz lost this valiant battle May 23.. 

The way you make me feel

When I'm with you, I need less insulin. You have your very own particular way to bring peace around the house. The gift of being around someone without speech, is special. Sometimes I wonder what we would talk about if you were able to speak. Being a young girl of 5 and a half years old, you would probably talk about your friends in kindergarten, your teacher, birthday parties, toys and games or story books. Every now and then, I hear your voice when you make happy sounds. You have a very nice voice. I sing songs for you while we hold hands. At the end of every song, I kiss your neck and I make funny noises. Tickling the inside of your legs makes you laugh out loud. I give you tons of little kisses and you can't get enough. It's so good to see you enjoy life..

When you are ready to take a nap, we cuddle on the couch. My right hand is holding your legs together in my lap. Your tiny hands fit right into my left hand and you clasp one of my fingers to make sure I stay right there with you. Our heads touch and our cheeks feel soft against each other. I hum in your ear and sing you lullabies. Your blanky keeps us warm and in a jiffy, you doze off. Every now and then, I see you peek through your long lashes, just to make sure I'm still there. I cherish these moments and I listen to our heartbeats..

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..

Just say when

Although I try all different kinds of food, I'm a picky eater. I like to know what's in my food and how it has been prepared. When I go out to eat, I'm happy if the waiter can tell me more about the preparation method of the food I'm willing to order. Is there a possibility to have my meat grilled or to have a sauce on the side? I like my steak medium rare and I will send it back if it's overdone. I don't mind paying for my food, as long as it's well prepared and to my taste.

I remember the Olive Garden in Kissimmee, Florida. We went out for dinner and we were going to have a salad on the side. We were impressed by the big bowl of fresh greens, crispy croutons on top and sliced bell peppers in all kinds of bright colors. When the waitress stopped by with her cheese mill, I was happy to see her grate a big chunk of Parmesan cheese over the salad. No prepacked fake Parmesan: yay! She said: just say when.. I'm happy hubby didn't understand her. She was still grating cheese when he said: when is she going to stop grating??? It gave us a lot of excellent cheese and a wonderful dinner. I like it when waiters do the best they can to give you good quality food and try to satisfy your needs. Would you like a baked potato instead of French fries? No problem, ma'am. Fresh pesto instead of cream sauce? Of course. Without asking, a slice of lime is making that cold water taste a whole lot better.

Call me spoiled, I don't care. I like creativity in the kitchen and it immediately shows the stock the chef has on board. If it's impossible to have the "shrimp stir fry with noodles" without the shrimp, you know they just open a bag of frozen rubbish. I like my food fresh and tasty. When the menu says: vegetable curry with fresh coconut, I check the open kitchen and I never hear the cook crack an exotic coconut... Then why state it's fresh? They can't fool me..
If I want prepacked food, I'll have a box of lunchables. Never!

To hell and back

You were expecting pain and tragedy and a lot of inconvenience. But magically, you are doing really well. Of course you feel they have operated on you, but it's not like the pain is unbearable. I'm glad you follow up your doctor's advice to keep quiet and relax. We have installed you on the couch, the remote control within reach, the bottle of diet coke next to you and no work that is waiting to be done. You are being fed and waited on. That's the least we can do to take away any discomfort you may feel. After all, we want you to be up and going in the best possible way and time. It will take some time before you will be dismissed from not driving your car, so visits need to be scheduled if you need a ride. Of course you have your iPhone to keep posted and there's Facebook to log into. You even have the chance now, to read the newest Dan Brown without being disturbed.

The dogs miss you. They miss their long walks with you. From the day you came home from the hospital, they have been pampering you. Animals have a sixth sense when it comes to feeling their people parents are not ship shape. They are calm with you. It's been a week since we saw them jump you over to lick your ears and face like they do when you come home from work. They lay by your side on the couch and they take turns putting their heads on your knee. They kinda like the ice pack you're using to take the swelling away. I'm glad they are taking good care of you too.

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?

The immediate now

There was a long line waiting at the reception of the hospital. It was an early rise. We left the house at 6:15 AM and by 6:30 we were number 7 in line. Most of the patients present needed some sort of knee operation. Some were there for a follow up consultation. I was not ready to hear any horror stories about things that went wrong or about horrendous misfits. At that time, I was happy hubby is selectively deaf. He was so busy stressing out, that he probably didn't hear half of the conversations, or he would've left the clinic right there and then.

The nurses were expecting their patients and the rooms were prepared. Hubby and his room mate were asked to put on their operation outfit. A questionnaire kept us busy for some time:

"Please state your name"
"What operation is awaiting you?" "Right knee?"
"How much do you weigh and how tall are you?"
"Are you sober?"

     Dang... I didn't eat, if that is what you mean?

"No, I meant: did you eat or drink anything?"

    No more than 2 cups of sweetened coffee.. That's okay, isn't it?

"Sir! You were not supposed to drink anything, not even water or coffee! We will have to delay your operation.."

     Are you kidding me? I guess not??

"Are you on any medication?"

     Yes. I take tablets for high blood pressure.

"Your blood pressure is 20/10. That's not good at all. Did you take your medication?"

     Well, I'm supposed to, but I didn't. I forget taking them all the time. But I do have them at home..

"That ain't gonna help much, what do you think? This is a dangerous situation sir. I can't believe you're doing this..."

I'm glad this discussion was not held with my husband, but with his roommate. It did mean though, that my hubby was first in line. The nurse started to shave his knee in a fast mode, since he was expected downstairs. In a jiffy, he was shaved and disinfected and ready to go. I kissed him goodbye just outside the operating room. I knew he was in good hands and the sedative had taken away the stress. The operation would take no more than 10-15 min.

I waited and waited some more. One hour. Two hours. Nearly three hours and half later and a lot of other patients that came out of the operating room, but still no hubby. Had there been complications? Probably not, because they would have warned me, right? Isn't that why they asked me for my phone number?

That's when I heard his voice and even a laughter. He was in bed, looking bright and happy. Pain free at last! The pressure was gone and I could tell he was happy to be alive and almost kicking. It would take the rest of the day before the surgeon would stop by and give his blessing to go home, but hubby could use that time to rest and watch TV, while I ran some errands.

I picked up the kids from school and we went back to the hospital to pick up dad. He was happy to see the girls and they were relieved to see him without pain. His leg looked a bit swollen but it wasn't sore. We packed his bag and loaded with prescriptions and guidelines, we took off. Hubby insisted on using his crutches and he didn't want me to go get the car. He is not a pussy you know! He hobbled all the way down the parking lot to the car, but I assume he was happy he got there in one piece.

We installed him on the couch with some extra pillows and a drink, while we got started preparing dinner. I'm grateful for the help I got from the girls. While Inthe and Rebba were taking turns in nursing daddy, I peeked over to the living area to see how he was doing. He was looking good. In the immediate now, he's perfectly fine. Let's hope it will be the same tomorrow....

Verklemmt

Today is the day. You have been in pain for way too long. There was no rush to go see a doctor, since doctors and you don't match. But it has come to a point, that there is no more time to waste. Your knee looked twice as big as usual and the pain killers were disappearing faster than ever. So you went to see our GP. Like I thought, he forwarded you to the hospital, to take a scan of that painful knee. We all knew the inevitable outcome of that scan: an operation. That's what you have dreaded all along. It's the only solution though. You like to play tennis and do sports. It's not possible to keep working out with a knee that won't cooperate. 

Your baby brother has been a great help in getting an early appointment. Surgeons are very popular and their waiting list is longer than my wishlist. I expected them to schedule the operation around September. But hey! you were lucky! You had to wait no longer than one week before they will operate your knee. I know it freaks you out since you cannot stand pain. But you're in good hands. Your brother will be there to keep an eye on you and to make sure everything goes well. Don't worry. You may close your eyes and before you know it, you will be awake and in your room. I'll be there, to help you sit up and encourage you. It will be hard at first and you won't be able to climb the stairs. We'll make you a bed downstairs and there are crutches in the car so you can move around when you are ready. 

Good luck hubby. You'll do just fine.

xOxO

"Happy Mother's Day"

Photo Eva Joos

I'm blessed with two wonderful daughters.. They are the best daughters I could ever have wished for. Although I had not planned on having children, they came upon our way and they have enriched our lives ever since. I'm a lucky woman, I realize that. Who would I be without my baby girls..

Thank you for being who you are sweeties. You make me laugh, you make me happy. I love to hear your stories, to sit down with you and talk, to spend time together in the kitchen. It warms my heart when you open my very own cookbook to surprise me with a treat I wrote down for you. Let's cuddle up and feel our warmth. I love you girls.. Being who you are is the best present a mom could wish for..