We were lucky enough to be in Florida on Spring Break for one of the last shuttle launches.

In the ongoing effort of some higher power to continuously prove me wrong, the third paragraph of the last post became obsolete the same day I posted it.

While reading Mackenzie her bedtime book I heard an annoying buzz. Taylor distinguished that it was coming from Mackenzie's light. I turned it off and, sure enough, the buzzing stopped. I flipped the switch back on but the light didn't come on. Concerned that Mackenzie would throw a fit sleeping without the light I started speaking about how great the hall light was. Ignoring this, she told me that there was enough light outside (it was dark) and to put the shade up. Apparently the street lights were enough for her because that was the end of it. We'll see how long this lasts!

Kenzie!

Mackenzie told me last night that she likes girls and women, but not men and boys. I tried not to take it personally. She also said that she wants a cat. Since she knows Amy is allergic to cats, she suggested we get it while Amy was gone! I'm only assuming she meant for us to bring it back upon Amy's return home but maybe she was just being sneaky.

Kenzie demands that her bedroom light stays on while she's asleep at night. For awhile we would turn it off after she fell asleep. More than once she woke up in the middle of the night screaming, "I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE THE LIGHT ON!" This is quite a bold outburst for 3 in the morning and a strong statement as to who she thinks in charge of the household. While most kids would have rolled over and gone back to sleep, Mackenzie knows what she wants at any hour of the day or night, and she knows how to get it. Looking out for the near term sleep needs of her parents and showing blatant disregard for the environment, the true bosses of the house have decided to fight this battle at a later date. For now, the light stays on!

Sick day!

Taylor had a fever during the last part of school yesterday so I decided to keep her home from school today. I also arranged a ride to school for Dylan, and planned on just keeping Mackenzie home so Taylor could sleep in. After all, a sick kid needs rest, right? Our normal school day routine involves Amy or me going in to Taylor's room first, since it's hardest for her to drag herself out of bed. Then we usually have to call up to her a few times, while her brother and sister are now out of bed and eating breakfast, so she'll actually get motivated enough to come to life.

Today, the one day that Taylor could sleep in, is the one day that she actually woke not only on time for school, but early! She surprised me at my early morning weigh in, because I didn't expect her to be up willingly at 6:55 am, and because I don't weigh in with any clothes on. Needless to say, she was surprised, too. She'll probably never wake up early again.

He hates to lose!

We went to the Antwerp Giants basketball game recently with the Penns. Taylor was excited to be with her friend (Gabi Penn). Dylan is friends with Ellie and Oliver (the Penn twins) but he said he'd rather go to their house than to a basketball game. A few days before the game he had never heard of the Antwerp Giants but he became immediately engrossed in the action. As time was running out and it became obvious the Antwerp team was going to lose the tears began to flow. He went from not caring a bit to being their biggest fan in the space of 2 hours! I'm sure he could care less by now but it's amazing how wrapped up in those things Dylan gets.

Also, check out "pretzel boy" in this photo. It's not an optical illusion. His back is bent backwards at a 70 - 80 degree angle. It hurts me to look at it.

Movie night!

The kids stayed up past their bedtime tonight for family movie night. Scooby Doo and those "meddling kids" were the main feature. Amy laughed the hardest although she's probably the only one in the family that probably didn't consider herself to be a Scooby fan. I guess she is now. Jinkies!

What?

Dylan asked if he could have a beer. Mackenzie mooned me. Taylor is on her way to break a rule (but she asked for permission first). The kids are playing truth or dare! I also explained that daring someone to expose themselves was going too far, even if it's just to family.

Hangin'

Homework done. Dinner digesting. We're hanging out. The rare night with no soccer, chess club, horseback riding or musical rehearsal. Basketball, karate and cross country are done for the fall. The kids have that 1.5 hours before bedtime when they can be what they are...kids.

Dylan is on the couch doing some sort of karate kick dancing to Miley Cyrus, the Jonas Brothers, Mellencamp and others. He stopped only long enough to smile for this picture. Taylor was in her room playing Christmas songs on the piano but has now joined Dylan and is strumming air guitar. They keep bringing the CD back to Miley ("7 Things"). Earlier, Mackenzie dragged me upstairs to help her become her favorite hero...Mega Mindy. She's the superhero on Belgian kids television. Mack loves Mindy...knows the poses, sings the song. Now little Mack is running around as Mega Mindy. It's a good night.

Normandy Beach

American Cemetery, Pointe du Hoc bomb craters and Utah Beach water obstacles placed by the Germans

You know you're in Belgium when...

The family gets passed by on their bikes by a 70 year old woman on a bike.....a good weather day means it only rains twice.....winter is green instead of white because all the trees have a green film of moss covering their bark.... there's more bikers on the road in the morning than cars....the local Chinese restaurant offers white rice, fried rice, and french fries with your chow mein...everyone bikes but no one wears helmets...when you see 3 people on one bike.

Baby Billy Attacks!

Dylan sits still only when he's sleeping or watching TV. This makes him hard to track down for pictures. He makes up for it, however, with all the material he gives me to write about. Baby Billy is Dylan when he pretends to be a baby. He doesn't really attack anything other than Taylor's nerves. "Dylan, stop acting like a baby when I'm trying to be serious!"

We played the "Would you rather..." game tonight and Dylan came up with some pretty imaginatively disgusting things. Here's one that comes to mind: "Would you rather jump super high and land with the top of the Eiffel Tower going through your eye and have to stay there all your life or fall from the Eiffel Tower and break every bone in your body?" And another: "Would you rather be a human that had to live your whole life in a world where everything was poop or would you rather be a poop in a world that was normal?" For the record, Dylan didn't say "poop." He calls it #2, but I changed it for affect.

Dylan gave a suggestion for a game to play at Mackenzie's birthday party: "Well, we could have dad go stand somewhere and then have all the kids fill up water balloons and throw them at him!" I don't think so Dylan.

Dylan had been in his cast for weeks when one of the school moms came up to him with a sympathetic look and asked, "How are you doing Dylan?" Dylan tilted his head, scrunched his face, and said, "Well...my arm is broken." Yes Dylan, that big green cast gives it away, and that's why she was asking. Dylan rolls with the punches like no one I've ever known. While in his cast he never complained. He just adjusted to his new situation.

A lot of Dylan's quotes have revolved around vehicles lately. First, he's become a turn signal cop, asking me if I turned my signal on or telling me when I didn't. He's watching other cars too, and he keeps me updated if he sees someone not using their blinkers.

The other day I got a ticket for parking on a curb where I wasn't supposed to (hefty fine, too). I was reading this while sitting in the car with Dylan (parked). This was serious enough business to Dylan that when we parked at our next destination the first thing he did was run around to the curb to make sure I wasn't breaking the law again!

Another day recently Dylan, Mackenzie and I witnessed a rollover accident on the freeway. It was a shock. Two seconds of chaos. Hard on the brakes followed by a hopeful glance to the rear view mirror. No bad results for anyone other than the car that rolled over. Quite honestly, I can't imagine how no one hit that car, much less mine. As we slowly drove past the vehicle I asked the handful of people who were helping if I could do anything. I could see out of the corner of my eye that people were still hanging upside down in the vehicle and I'm sure Dylan and Mackenzie noticed this too. This was startling for Dylan who proceeded to tell me every few minutes that he thought I was driving too fast (I wasn't).

Dylan said recently that he wanted to go to China so he could learn to speak Spanish. It was hard not to laugh at that one. The minds of curious 6 year olds all over the world could probably put together a great comedy routine.

I think Dylan's favorite word is "what." He doesn't use it with a question mark but rather with an angry exclamation point. "Dylan, time to get off the computer." "WHAT! But I just got on ."
"Dylan, please turn off the TV." "WHAT! But it was just getting so good."

Mismatched

Mackenzie is Miss Mismatched. It started when she received a set of 3 socks of the same color but intentionally manufactured with different designs. Now she wants her socks contrasting every day, regardless of if they're her LittleMissMatched socks (that's the brand name). For a while she wore opposite shoes too, which earned us a few strange looks.

Until recently Mackenzie would speak Dutch only when she was angry with me: "Je bent een stoute papa!" (You've been a naughty dad). If Amy or I scold her sometimes she'll glance away and give a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders to let us know that she's guilty but doesn't really care. This goes quite a ways towards showing that she thinks she runs the show. Along those lines, she's told me in a heated moment, "I don't wants to behave!" Sometimes this rejection is OK to hear. An angry, "Not you daddy!" at 2 am means I can go back to bed because Mackenzie feels strongly she wants to see her mother.

Mackenzie says many hilarious things but it's often her tone of voice, her timing, or her expression that makes it so. Since it's difficult to translate sounds into writing a bit gets lost somewhere. Some of these include: "Are ladybugs scared of people?" "It won't be scary...right Tay Tay?" "Do dolphins eat people?" "I'm not sweetheart. I'm Kenzy!" "Carry me like a baby princess!" "I wants to go potty on the toilet with you."

Sometimes it's what's at the end of the sentence that's important for Mackenzie. When she's certain of herself she ends with an, "uh-huh." Don't mess with that. If she's teasing or trying to put on the slightly spoiled, youngest child routine, then she puts a solidly emphasized, "HAHA" after any statement meant to offend.

There's a great deal of bad American too (American is a language similar too, but quite different from, English, Australian, Irish, Scottish, etc): "I did it tomorrow," is not an uncommon statement. Time to teach the kid past tense, I guess. Sometimes "he" is mistaken for "she" and vice versa. Little things like this, of course, are being sorted through in her mind and will soon become only memories.

Occasionally she addresses me as "daddy Browne" or even Ted. Same for Amy. Sometimes her quotes sound a bit controversial although they weren't intended to be: "You've got a biiiiig butt!" has gotten some good laughs--this is definitely one where the tone of voice is necessary. My recent favorite is when she marched into the bathroom while I was preparing to use the toilet and simply said: "I get to go potty first because you've got that other thing!" Proof that sometimes females can be a bit bossy towards people with those "other things!"

When all is good: "Hello persons!" "You're nice daddy!" "I love you AND I like you!" Sometimes she wants to verify: "That was nice of me, right mommy?"

We've told her so many times that she needs to put on a warmer shirt that now she calls a short sleeved shirt a "cold shirt." The other day she saw spackle (hole filler) on the wall and said, "Look! Bird poop."

She's growing up fast and she's empowered with a mind of her own.

Murphy

Murphy's leg hung loosely, it would obviously never improve. The six month struggle to get that leg healthy had gradually come to this. The cortisone shot the vet gave her two weeks earlier had no affect, even after we restarted her pills, which was to be the last resort. The last two days were hard; her hoarse whines and constant barking meant pain.

Murphy was yet another change in a year that was filled with change: a new marriage, a first house, a dog...then another dog. She was the second dog to join our young family. Needy and neurotic, Murphy demanded more attention than three dogs deserved. She was the perfect example of the saying, "the squeaky wheel gets the grease." Still, she became part of the family and Murphy and Reggie became affectionately known as "the girls."

The children and Amy said goodbye to her after breakfast. Taylor sat by Murphy as the emotion built and tears came. Dylan tried to feel sad; wanted to feel sad. Mackenzie, only 3 years old, kept repeating, "Murphy is going to die." This made it harder for Taylor. Forty five minutes later, the kids now at school, Amy at work, I'm alone with Murphy. I lift her into the car and we leave for the vet.

So many memories...the neighbor kids coming over to play with the dogs...walking and jogging with "the girls" in a time when Amy and I were able to do this together...playing endless amounts of fetch...black dogs covered in white from tearing about in the deep snow....some days so cold they'd keep a paw off the ground to keep warm...some days so hot they sat, panting, in the shade of our huge cottonwood...

After the first injection Murphy turned toward the door..."I've had my shot now let's go home." This was meant to relax her; to make her go into a comfortable sleep before the killing dose. Eventually she realized we weren't leaving so she hobbled about on her three decent legs as the sedative started to work. After a bit she felt it necessary to flop down, front paws outstretched, barely holding her head up. The vet had left the room, waiting for her to nap. I repeated my goodbyes..."good girl, you'll feel better soon, thanks for being a good dog," and such things probably meant more for me than her. Murphy's breathing relaxed. A humming from the computer in the room was the only other noise.

..."playing" with the bunnies they found in our back yard...chasing around on frozen Lake Minnetonka while the humans played broomball...camping...jumping into bed with us and trying to take it over...exploring the woods around Mac and Kathy's cabin and then cooling off in the lake...scavenging food at our parties...the "girls" had more than 5 years of our undivided attention...

The computer seemed louder. Her breathing had eased further and she slowly glanced left and right as the sedative began to disorient her. I was still repeating goodbyes. Finally, she put her chin down on the tile between her paws.

...dad dying...Amy's dad dying...a miscarriage...deaths of others we cared about...many other painful things...

The computer was now the dominant sound in the room. Every few seconds Murphy's soft exhales created a brief fog on the tile. The vet was still out. "Forgive me for that time I whacked your butt. I knew after I did it that it was wrong." I glanced around to see if her eyes were closed and she lifted her head slightly. Not quite yet. "Thanks for scaring the crap out of that burglar."

...the birth of Taylor...of Dylan...of Mackenzie...Murphy's tail clearing tables or making unfortunate 2 year olds cry in pain after unintentional blows to the face...Reggie running off...Murphy staying close...a new house in Bloomington...the kids from the old neighborhood still coming over, but now as babysitters for our kids, they loved the dogs, and my children...stealing food from little hands...the occasional deer in the back yard sending the dogs off to the races, instinct having taken over...eventually not climbing the stairs or jumping into bed as they became too old (about the time Amy and I approached middle age).

The vet had returned. She wasn't going into a deep enough sleep. I lifted her for the last time, with the help of the vet, onto the table. A quick shave, an IV hooked up and she was sleeping soundly. A touch to the eyelid confirmed this...no reaction. A moment later came the lethal injection. She seemed no different than when she was sound asleep. "She's gone," the vet said. Then as he left, "I'll give you a few minutes." The computer was humming. I didn't really know how to react to my dead dog beside me, or the anticlimactic feeling of the whole process. I was happy she had obviously experienced no pain.

Reggie and Murphy represent a time period in our life. In their beginning Amy and I were young, the dogs were young, we were just married with much to look forward to. The dogs were with us through the most joyful moments and during the most miserable times. They were a part of our life. Each dog was loved in it's own right but the death of each also makes one less witness to many of the important moments in our lives.

Murphy lived to play fetch. If dogs go to heaven then I'm quite certain she's chasing a ball right now. Reggie, who died nearly 2 years ago, is probably in futile pursuit of a whitetail deer.

Old News

This is from this past Christmas:

Entering the states...Customs in Chicago...A man turns to me: "I sat behind you and your two kids (Dylan and Mackenzie) for the (9 hour) flight and I couldn't believe what great travelers they were." Knock on wood and cross my fingers. My children are hardened travelers, although not by their own choice. Any parent can see the nervous looks on the other passengers within a radius of 4 seats/rows when you enter a plane with 3 kids aged 7 and under (Taylor turned 8 after we returned to Belgium). However, 9 hours later, somewhere over Lake Michigan, those same people are amazed that they saw/heard a grand total of 10 meltdown minutes (the 3 year old, of course). They could care less if the children rioted for the last 20 minutes of the flight at that point. People are nearly screaming with joy because they didn't have to hear crying, whining kids for 4000 miles.

On the return trip from the States I flew alone with the 3 children. We had the 3 seats in the middle of the plane and one seat across the row. Rather than leave one kid alone I chose to have them together with me obviously very close by. Many hours later, shortly after the pilot told us to prepare for landing, a flight attendant from a different part of the aircraft came to the kids and said, "who's with these children?" After raising my hand she spoke down her nose at me: "Children must have an adult seated with them." Had she told us this before takeoff, or had the children been screaming the whole flight, people around us might have agreed. But after 8 hours with hardly a peep from three kids the people nearby gave me a few sympathetic head shakes and an eye roll or two at the idiocy of this woman's timing.

Survival mode

What can be more scary than jumping out of an airplane? What can be more difficult than childbirth? What can leave haunting images in ones mind? A recent experience conjured up all these feelings within me - when I witnessed Dylan jump off a see-saw and land with a blood curdling scream, to find him laying on the ground, not moving and seeing his arm in an unnatural position with his bone pushing against his skin. Survival mode - your brain races. What do I need to do...it focuses on one thing - what do I need to do to help Dylan. All brain activity gets channeled to this situation. I have no idea how to use my blackberry, my fingers can't hit the right buttons. Fortunately there were others there to take control. Sheri asks, "Should I call emergency?" (fortunately she learned that the emergency number in Belgium is 112 just last week). I wonder, is it dislocated? I talk to Dylan - he is so brave, not moving his body, just laying there saying that it hurts bad. He doesn't cry out, just writhes in pain, his face scrunched up, it hurts...it hurts. I cover up his arm with my jacket, I can't look at it anymore (but amazing how my mind still remembers it). The ambulance is coming. I see Julie riding her bike to clear the path for the ambulance. They get the arm wrapped up and stabilized and ready for the ride. I arrange with Sherri to take Mackenzie and pick up Taylor. I say good bye to Mackenzie and tell her she's going to go home with Sherri. She nods in agreement without saying a word. She's standing so still and quiet I wonder what is going through her mind. I race to my car to meet Dylan at the hospital. I get there and realize quickly that I don't know what the word for "emergency room" is in dutch and none of the signs give me any good indication. I have to ask a couple of people how to get there. I forget that the first floor in Europe is the second floor to us. Finally one woman walks me to the reception. They ask me a couple of questions and I realize the only information I can give them is my name and address. Room 4 - Dylan is laying on the cot. The doctors are looking at his arm. One doctor keeps pinching his fingertips. They need to take x-rays. Dylan is still in a lot of pain, especially because they had to unwrap his arm to look at it. Everyone is very nice - the x-ray techs take very special care with his arm, no additional pain for him. I see the x-ray on the way out...the top bone is not connect to the bottom bone, as a matter of fact it's pointing to the side. I am still wondering, is it dislocated or broken? I get to the room and the doctor tells me they have to transport him to the childrens hospital for the operation. What did you say? What operation? Is this a translation issue? No, they have to operate on his arm to put it back in place. There may be vascular damage because his hand isn't getting enough blood. So first they are going to move the bone to relieve the pressure and then they are going to transport him in an ambulance. OK, I guess. Oh I wish Ted were here. (I forgot to mention that Ted boarded an airplane about the exact time that Dylan fell). They prepare Dylan for the procedure. They are going to put him to sleep so they can move the arm. Dylan is asleep, but as soon as they start moving the arm, he starts moaning and kicking his legs. He's asleep but he can feel the pain. I'm standing helplessly aside, watching 5 people hold my son down while one guy is pulling on his arm. This is painful, terrible, I can hardly stand it. Please finish. After what seemed like a lifetime, they stop. OK, the fingers are getting blood again. They are satisfied. If he's lucky, it is only the bone that pushing against the artery. If not, he'll have a longer surgery to repair the artery. They quickly cast his arm and we are on his way. I get directions from the receptionist, stop at home to pick up baby blankie and to drop off the key with the neighbors so they can let Murphy out at night. The receptionist gives me bad directions, I lose a few minutes. I get to the hospital and park in the wrong lot. Running through the hospital, I find the childrens hospital. The nurse comes to me right away. The doctor is there ready to operate. It's going to be a difficult surgery, he tells me, because the bones that need to grow back together are like two knifes against each other and he has to put pins to hold them together. They let me sneak into the operating room to see Dylan. He looks scared, I'm sure I look scared. I give him a big kiss and tell him I'm proud of him. He kisses baby blankie. The nurse shows me to his room to wait. It's 7:30, 3 hours since he's fallen and he's already in surgery. I still haven't gotten a hold of Ted. The nurse tells me the surgery should take 1.5 to 2 hours. About 10:00 they bring him in. He's out cold. The doctor tells me the surgery was very difficult but it went well. He shows me the x-rays and the pins. He feels Dylan will have full motion of his arm, but the next week is critical for the arm to heal in the right way. I say thank you very much and he looks a bit surprised and embarrassed. I go back to the room and snuggle up next to Dylan's bed on my cot. I try Ted one more time (it's 10:30 by now) and he answers, "Hi hon, what's going on?"...oh boy, have I got a story to tell you...

The day the circus came to town...

Last Saturday the circus came to town. Not the Barnum and Bailey or the Ringling Brothers but a better one - the Picolini Circus at de Vlinder School. What, you've never heard of the Picolini? They are all the rage in Belgium. And they have some talented kids that participate. Fantastic jugglers, cute clowns, daring gymnasts. Mackenzie and Taylor both performed their talents under the big top.

As good as it gets!

There was a time when Dylan was scared to approach
those costumed characters that meander about the world's theme parks. If Mickey Mouse showed up Dylan would be found close to mom or dad, peeking to see when the coast was clear. Times have changed. While at the Star Wars exhibit in Brussels Dylan, Star Wars fanatic that he is, sprinted down the hall to catch up with Darth Vader before he lost him around a corner. This picture is the result (taken by our friend who was smart enough not to forget his camera, unlike me or Amy). This was, as anyone who knows Dylan might expect, a great day in my son's life.

Parade

Mackenzie is thinking the same thing I thought when I was less than a handful of years old as I clean her face with my saliva soaked thumb: "eeeew." I swore I would never do something that used to gross me out to my own kid, yet, here I am, too lazy to walk away, wet a paper towel, and return. Certainly she'll break similar promises, if not this one. This girl melts down...she's in the difficult stage that the other two kids hit around the same time. We're in for a few months of pain, if my memory serves me right, then she'll be a saint until adulthood, or something like that. Although the weather has been in the 50's Fahrenheit recently she refuses to go out without hat and mittens...who am I to argue.

I was in the back yard ("garden" for our European friends) today picking up after Murphy when Dylan asked: "If someone doesn't own a dog do they have to pick up dog poop." Usually this kid has great questions that show he's using his brain ....but this? He's using the leftover balloons from Taylor's birthday sleepover for balloon fights. This game has 3 options: 1) He wins! 2) He wasn't ready, or 3) He didn't say "go!" yet. He's becoming accomplished with what he calls his "Game Boy" which isn't really a Game Boy but who cares since he loves it. I asked Dylan if his friend, Oliver, was still out of school sick. He said, "He's not sick, he's ill." Aha! Proof that he's learning British English in school since "sick" and "ill" are synonymous to me. I guess to the English "ill" says you aren't well and "sick" means you're throwing up. I don't remember missing work in the states for "ill" days but I'm sure I took a few "sick days" even if I wasn't vomiting. A quote from Dylan: "OK, when I go like this it means I shot your legs off and you say 'aaaaah.'" In other words nothing much has changed with Dylan.

Taylor's slumber party was backed off a week when Mackenzie was sick (ill). She took it well but you could see it put a downer on that weekend. Things got worse when she became sick (ill) on her birthday. Throughout the day she would shake her head and mumble to herself: "I can't believe it's my birthday and I'm sick." Her friends came over the next weekend and the girls went ice skating and had a movie night (while in bed) so all was OK in the end. In addition to her tennis lessons and sport academy she recently started piano lessons. This, plus the practicing that it requires, will take more of the precious few minutes she has each day to just be a kid.


A simple thing like taking the dog for her short walk (no more than 15 minutes normally) becomes complicated with 3 kids. Dylan, almost in tears: "I HATE WALKS!" So Dylan doesn't walk...he gets to ride his skateboard. Then, Taylor absolutely must Rollerblade and Mackenzie decides to ride her scooter (and who am I to argue). The "quick" walk is now delayed 10-15 minutes as Tay and Dylan search for, and put on, their pads. Dylan was unable to locate his right wrist guard. Wanting to press on, rather then prolong the outing, I told him to be careful and that if he falls to be sure to lean left. Our short walk is now a parade. Murphy likes to be in front even though she's old and slow enough that we don't keep her on a leash anymore. Taylor, who is now on in-line skates, also likes to take the lead. So the dog and the skater are leading the parade. I'm in the middle, trying to keep sane. Dylan, leaning hard left to protect his right wrist, and 3 year old Mackenzie on her scooter with her Dora backpack, are bringing up the rear. Nothing eventful happened, but it was another day in the life.....The pictures in this post are from our parade.

The kids wanted to make a surprise dinner recently and, not being one to argue, I agreed. It wasn't as much of a surprise for me as it was for Amy since I had to buy things from the store and set some basic rules like: "no children can cut or cook without me present." Thus, we had sandwiches and a lettuce salad. I was surprised, however, to discover that dessert for each of us was a half bowl of candy-probably triple their normal dessert calories. A new rule will be in place next time...

the Superbowl

Concerned that I wouldn't see the game tonight and stay up past midnight for no reason I was thrilled to see that I could watch the game in French, German, and even English...but not Dutch. oh well, it's gonna be a late night!

Happy Holidays!

Happy holidays to all! This year, busy with visitors, travels, and three children, has slipped by seemingly faster than the last.


Time may be speeding along, but Mackenzie and I travel quite slowly. It's a bit like we're riding a motor scooter on the autobahn of life. She is often walking backwards, hopping, balancing, kicking leaves, splashing in puddles and needing the toilet at the most inopportune moments. Efforts to assist her are often rejected with a resounding, "No! By mineself!" Her smile is a ray of sunshine in rainy Belgium but, as with all 3-year-olds, she can also make her own storm clouds. The rug in front of the TV is her dance floor, the couch is often a boat, at times there’s a snake in the room, and any doll or stuffed animal is named "Ella." She no longer asks permission to be a princess, instead she simply strips down to her underpants and brings me her gown. Mackenzie has accepted that to play with her brother she's going to occasionally carry a weapon. Quotes: When she was angry recently... “I don’t wanna be happy!” She's still trying to figure out English: "I want some little bit of that." When she was pessimistic: "I'll be crying when I wake up." She takes things literally: "Hold on a minute, Mackenzie!" has her grabbing for something: "OK, I'm holding!" To Mackenzie lip gloss is to be used all over the face, comments are to be repeated until they are acknowledged, and sports school is the best part of the week. She understands Flemish but doesn't speak much, although she's begun correcting our pronunciation. She comes home from school sometimes with random things belonging to other children after telling her teacher they are hers. Thus, for awhile, we jokingly called Mackenzie "the liar!" She tries to be helpful...after shattering 2 glasses recently she scurried off to get some tape. Mackenzie shows she loves you with soft hugs and kisses (usually at bedtime).

In constant motion, Dylan bounces his head and swings his arms even when he's running or skipping along. He's kind of like an out of control bobblehead with arms and legs (our Belgian friends might have to google that). Sitting still would be a form of torture for Dylan. It's not unusual for him to do a headstand on the sofa while watching TV. Dylan is not an actor. He can't keep a straight face when he's trying to fool you, and when he's guilty he looks oh, so guilty. For a short time he was a collector of beer bottle caps to the point of pushing beer on Amy and me to feed his addiction: "Dad when you're done with that beer are you going to have another?" He still collects dirt and sand, but not intentionally. Other things Dylan has uttered: "Can I play Legos at soccer today?" "What kind of bomb do you choose?" "I don't like it...I love it!" "I have lots of good toys that I can never play with because I have to go to school." To Dylan force fields are real, sound effects are necessary, chocolate can also be worn as a goatee, and it's OK to wear yesterday's socks and hide his clean ones in the dirty laundry. His rating scale is simply the thumb: up, down or sometimes in between. The training wheels came off his bike this past Spring. This was a momentous event for Dylan's self confidence. Pool and cabin life over the summer were the perfect things for him: Swimming every day, fishing off the dock, boat rides, and water sports put some needed adventure in his life. He matured more in those few weeks than he did the previous six months. He now goes to the English speaking international school and loves it. He really enjoyed clay creations and soccer, his out of school activities, and I think he'll want to continue with both. Dylan shows he loves you through physical contact.

Taylor is a safety watchdog: "Dad you're not buckled in." "Dad you're only supposed to go 50 km/h here." Keeping a secret is difficult for her...she can do it but she drops a lot of hints. The honeymoon with school and Taylor is over. As a 5 year old she would pretend to do homework. Now she's 7 and homework is to be avoided, negotiated or sometimes forgotten. Still, she's doing fine in class despite the language difference. Her Flemish is good enough that recently a woman, hearing Taylor speak both languages, commented on how good her English was. She says she doesn't like Dylan's shooting games but she'd rather do that than play alone. Taylor is the talker in the family and, as Amy says, we're not really sure where she gets that! The tooth fairy is making Taylor wealthy. While Dylan laughs at my jokes, Taylor rolls her eyes, "Daaad." Her life is filled with play dates, tennis lessons, and sport academie. Taylor loves horses and movie nights. She's also a big fan of telling the same joke we've all heard 20 times and still expecting a laugh. The moment I first held her I told myself I would see her not only as a child but as what she would become. Instead, nearly every day I think of her as that child I held in my arms just moments after she was born. How can it be that she's come so far, so fast?

Amy's still hot! She loves the croissants, waffles, Belgian chocolate and baguettes that are so prevalent in Belgium. Now she's found a place that actually serves bagels (although they don't taste quite right to me). Luckily for her she's had a resurgence in her passion for running which offsets the outrageous amount of carbohydrates in the foods listed above. The alarm doesn't drag her out of bed for early morning runs much, however. Instead, it wakens me, which may be some sort of revenge for me coming to bed at 2 in the morning from time to time. She manages to get her runs in anyway. Amy is also running from the cops, or at least trying to avoid them, as she cruises around Europe in her company car. Her need for speed has resulted in a handful of tickets I know of and probably some I'll never know about. She still loves to pass time reading and she joined a book club shortly after we arrived in Belgium. Her latest hobby is creating photo albums of our travels. I like this better than her reading because, although she competes with me for the computer, I get to spend time with her past 10 in the evening. Secretly I think Amy enjoys playing Legos more than princess pretend stuff, but I'm not sure. Amy's first and foremost passion is for family. She is exactly the mother her children deserve and just the right person for me.





I'm doing well. Just trying to keep the hair on my head, like most guys. At 41 that's not the only problem a guy has to deal with. I don't need to get into that, of course, since it's the same for all of us (sooner or later). I will say that there are times I feel 25 again, at least until I look in the mirror! I play basketball once a week and although I'm not as quick as I was 20 years ago I still have the same knack for missing even the simplest shot. Lately the guys have been going out for a beer after hoops, which I hope will continue in the new year. I've really come to enjoy cooking, which is mostly because I like to eat. This goes well with my interest in surfing the net, of course, since there are limitless cooking tips, ideas and recipes on the web. Although my meals can be hit or miss, it's safe to say that I'm better with a spatula than a mop. I enjoy playing poker with dads from Dylan's school every couple of months and I'm also in an American football pool (i.e. not soccer) with my sister, Lisa. I'm guessing I'm the only guy in Belgium that's participating in Pappy's Corner Pub's football contest in Fort Collins, Colorado. Mom and Chris (also my sister) are in the pool as well and they are still in the money while Lisa and I are in need of a miracle (with only 2 weeks left in the season). You may have noticed from this letter that I also enjoy writing (or typing in this case). I'm sure you can also gather from this letter that I consider myself very lucky for the family I have.

Murphy, the black labrador, now has more than a touch of gray. She's a survivor at 13 and, if you've read previous blog posts you know that she scared off a burglar this past year. She was quite a hero. She's as neurotic as ever, which is fine since we wouldn't know how to act if she became normal, at this point. We love her, and I remind myself of this at 5:30 in the morning when she starts whining for food.

The year was packed with travels, most of which should have been blogged by now, but haven't been. I joined mom, my sisters, and brother in law for the annual Vegas trip. Amy met her sister Julie for a long weekend in London. Lisa and Chris came for 2 weeks in April which was highlighted by 6 days in Scotland. John (Amy's brother) and Kim came soon thereafter and we journeyed with them to the Loire Valley (France) before they set off on their own romantic adventures. My nephew, Toby, traveled Europe in true American fashion (i.e. doing as much as possible in as little time as possible). I took him to Amsterdam for a day and then met him in Italy for a few days as he drove around the continent in a last gasp before medical school. After a fun visit to the States we wandered around Tuscany for a week with Grandma Rosie, Theresa, Fred, Julie and cousins Trevor and Lexi. We visited a number of towns and villages and still managed to get some pool time. Mom visited for 10 days in October. Since we didn't travel she's our first visitor to get a taste of our day to day life in Belgium. The next week just the family bolted for Strasbourg and Chamonix (both in France) with a night in Luxembourg City on the return.

We hope your year was as wonderful as ours. To all of our family and friends, we wish you a happy holiday season and all the best in 2008.

Love,
the Brownes