As Mr. Big Eyes becomes more active and interactive, I feel I need to entertain him more than ever. But sometimes too much stimulation -- a ride on a play car or a puppet show -- is more than his energy level (and, consequently, mine) can handle. Yesterday, I played it simple. It was a beautiful day outside, and I took Mr. Big Eyes and our dog to the park. All three of us sat ...More »

I have found that Italians have a peculiar way of interpreting time. When my husband says he'll be there in "cinque minuti," I've learned that really means ten minutes instead of five. When a dinner guest calls to tell me that he's looking for a parking spot, I know that means he's just leaving home. And, whenever an Italian asks if he can "buttare la pasta," I know that usually means we'll be having dinner ...More »

On mother's day, we went to visit the private gardens of the Belgian royal family which are open to the public once a year in Laeken. You see that shirt I have on in the photo with Mr. Big Eyes? He shoplifted it. My husband and I were browsing in a few stores with him, and pushing him around in the Bugaboo the day before mother's day. Once we arrived home, I noticed that he ...More »

Before I had a child, I usually saw my name in print once a week. Now that I have a child, I see my name in print once a year. Here's this year's contribution so far, an article in the March 2008 issue of "Interior Design" that reviews a new bookstore in Brussels called "Cook & Book":  http://www.interiordesign.net/id_article/CA6544542/id. More »

My son is no longer a cute blob: he's a toddler with a 'tude. An attitude, that is. Over the past few weeks, he has mastered the floor fit, and lapses into it with high melodrama regardless of location or audience. The more public the space and the larger the crowd, the more vociferous his wailing. Naturally, the floor fits result from events which, in the eyes of a 22-month-old, are tragic. Floor Fit ...More »

I fell ill in bed last week when the Eliot Spitzer scandal broke. I've been riveted by its every detail, and question why. I'm more interested in Spitzer's wife, Silda, than I am in the arrogant sleazeball himself. Why stand by your man not once but twice as he announces to the world his regret for his behavior and, then, eventually, his resignation? Two articles have caught my eye over the past few days for ...More »

A friend once told me that if you choose to be a freelance writer from home you'll be more productive in a pair of shoes than in slippers. I'm wearing my ballerina flats right now with the hope that I'll feel that I'm writing from an office cubicle as opposed to our guest bedroom. "When do you find time to write?" they ask me. I don't, lately, but I know I must because I feel ...More »

It has taken some time for my husband and me to realize that weekends are no longer for us. Wanting to do something for ourselves is a faint memory of our past life: Saturdays and Sundays are exclusively overseen by our 19-month-old Boss, Mr. Big Eyes. We love him so much we want to devour him like a delicious carbonara. But, sometimes, often on Saturdays and Sundays, he challenges our patience in between hair-tugs, shrieks ...More »

A couple of months ago, I became a Belgian driver. After almost ten years of living in Europe, I finally received an official driver's license.Growing up, my brother and I counted the days until we could apply for a driver's license. So desperate was my brother to motor around on four wheels that he learned how to drive a tractor when he was ten. It didn't matter that we had a lawnmower. He liked the ...More »

Yesterday I dropped my cellphone in the toilet. A friend of mine told me that these sorts of things only happen to moms. They must happen to dads, too, because my husband did the same thing a month ago. As I've been waiting for its resurrection, I've actually loved not having it in my life. It's one less thing for me to forget when I leave the house. One less thing to charge. One less ...More »