Every day I take my dog and my baby for a walk, sometimes two, in my new neighborhood. I had been told that multi-tasking is fundamental to surviving as a new mom. But not many of my friends have much advice on how to make walking dog and baby together any easier. My dog’s name is Brie, named after the French cheese NOT the character of Desparate Housewives. She’s most relieved that she’s finally living in a city where they pronounce her name properly. In the morning, she follows me around the house like a piece of gum stuck to my shoe. I can go nowhere without having her brown eyes question my every step. Once I put my shoes on, she starts to wheel in circles like a wind-up toy gone haywire. She can barely contain herself when I put on her choke collar. (I will take no criticism for choke collars — it’s the only way to curb her appetite from the gourmet offerings of the gutter and to prevent her from going home pregnant. ) My first move is to walk her outside and park her, looping the handle of her leash to a hook outside my front door. Once she’s in pole position, I go back inside to wheel out Mr. Big Eyes. Brussels is all about stairs. They’re everywhere. If you have your heart set on an itsy-bitsy Hagaaen Daez dixie cup that you see advertised outside an Alimentation Generale (the Belgian version of a Korean deli), the stomach pains are forced to subside when you see the steps required with the baby carriage. I’m convinced that the steps are really dietary measures helping me shed my post-pregnancy pounds.

So, back to the steps. Yup, we have loads of them in our house. Three floors worth, plus the downstairs kitchen. Once Brie is outside, desparately awaiting our grand exit, I push Mr. Big Eyes down three steps, back big wheels first. He’s used to the quasi-wheelie, and likes bumpy rides. The bumpier, the sounder he sleeps. My mom calls him The Cobblestone Kid.

Once we’re all outside, I pick up Brie’s leash with my left hand, push Mr. Big Eyes with my right hand, and pray that my phone doesn’t ring or that we don’t run into a Doberman Pincher.