Hey, it's none of your Strabismus!

No one ever wants to admit that there is something wrong with her child. So, when our local Belgian pediatrician took one look at Flora two months ago and said, "there's something going on with her right eye," I was miffed and momentarily convinced that the doctor was a mean sadist who liked to hurt people. But, of course, after I pulled myself together and gave it some real thought, I had to agree that there was something "going on with her right eye." I dutifully gave Stefan the name and number of the pediatric ophthalmologist and asked him to call and make an appointment right away. My French, though getting better, still isn't good enough to navigate a hospital switchboard.

Right away turned out to be two months later, this past Monday. While we waited for the appointment, we told ourselves many stories about how this was something she would grow out of. "It's a developmental thing. She'll be fine." But in the backs of our minds, we were fearing that the something "going on" was a lazy eye or as the medical community calls it, "Strabismus."

When our Monday appointment finally arrived, we were thrilled to be able to at last dispel our fears and move on. Unfortunately, after what was the most horrendous and unpleasant doctor's appointment my children or I have ever had, we found out that she does, indeed, have strabismus. Her right eye is severely far-sighted, so much so that the strain of trying to see out of it has forced it to turn inward. Poor little peanut can't see and we really had no idea. Of course, now we know why she has refused to walk more than 6 or 7 steps before stopping, sitting down and reassessing the route. It's a bummer, but at least we know that there isn't something more sinister at play.

It's funny how life works. When I was living in San Francisco, trying to get a catering business off the ground, I doubled as the personal assistant for the former president of the International Council of Ophthalmology. He was and is one of the most well-respected and forward-thinking doctors to practice in the field. He also has spent the better part of his retirement working to put an end to preventable blindness in developing countries. You know what one of the most common causes of otherwise preventable blindness is? Strabismus. So, of course, after being largely mistreated by a very nervous student doctor who spoke badly broken English, I immediately sent my old boss and friend an email, asking him every question under the sun about this condition, its treatments and prognosis. Of course, he searched his vast Rolodex for the foremost pediatric ophthalmologist in Belgium and got us an appointment for a few weeks from now. We will be seeing the HEAD of Pediatric Ophthalmology at University Hospital Ghent (there's the opportunity to return to Ghent we've been waiting for...)He also assured me that with proper care (glasses in the best case, surgery in the worst), the prognosis for both vision and appearance are excellent.

So... now we are just waiting, for the glasses to be made (apparently, this "special" corrective lens takes a very long time to make... but I think it's just the Belgian way of doing things: very, very slowly with little concern for customer experience. That's another blog post all together, however) and for our next ophthalmological appointment. Unfortunately, I am assuming Flora will face another grueling exam in which she's held down, kicking and screaming, for upwards of two hours. While I am looking forward to having a competent doctor evaluate her condition, I am not looking forward to that.

When the glasses are finally ready, I will post pics of my little bespectacled Flora May. If anyone can pull this off, it's her.

A Long Update after a Very Long Hiatus:

I mentioned in my last post (a long, long, long time ago) that I was having computer problems. Well, I still am. So, I haven't been blogging. I have gotten a few emails saying, "are you okay? Is everything all right?" I am okay. I just haven't wanted to risk permanent damage to me or my computer from electrical shock. But, of course, now so much time has gone by, I don't even know where to begin (I'd such high hopes for consistency too).

I will start with a basic update:

Well, I must confess that I'm surprised there haven't been more songs, poems and novels written about springtime in Brussels. For, it is an absolutely extraordinary time. When the grey clouds parted and the endless damp of winter gave way to blue skies, sunshine and explosive blossoms, something magical happened here... and to me.

The spring has brought hours of outdoor play-time, early evening meetings with daddy in our neighborhood playground on his way home from work, and multiple introductions to new friends- both natives and expats alike. It would seem that as they keep their coats fastened firmly closed in the winter months, so do Belgians keep their hearts. Now, with the warmth of spring, there is a new openness and willingness to engage in conversation with this sometimes shy American mother of two.


I've made some good friends and I feel like this place is starting to feel like a home. I have a much better understanding of the geography and I'm able to go places, both on foot and by car, without spending hours trying to then find my way home. My French lessons have paid off (and will continue for the duration of my time here). I'm proud to report a complete, courteous and jovial conversation with a fellow canine-lover in the dog park a few days ago. I was able to tell her the ages of both Otis and Rudi when she asked, ask about her dogs and even make a joke about the size of her 7 month old St. Bernard puppy. It is precisely this type of mundane exchange that I could not have had four months ago, when we arrived, that made me feel so lonely and isolated. My biggest struggle now is with the children in the playgrounds who steal Addy's beloved bucket and shovel. I've asked my teacher to prepare a lesson on playground etiquette so that I can protect Adela's considerable interests there without offending or mistreating the unwitting Belgian thieves.

For friends and family who are interested, I have this to say about my lovely children:



Adela is a star. She's funny, kind and agreeable these days. Her vocabulary has exploded to include such benign expletives as, "Oh my gosh!" and "oh, goodness, mommy!" Somehow, against all the odds, she's not using her parents' preferred expletives and expressing herself in ways that would get us booted from English-speaking playgrounds. She's very tall and very lean (her waist is smaller than her sister's, but more on that in a moment). She makes me incredibly proud everyday because she is unassuming in her interactions with other children, deferential to her little sister and quick-witted in her exchanges with me. I couldn't ask for a better two and a half year old.


Flora is our demure flower. Notice I didn't say: "demure, little flower." She's enormous. I mean that in the nicest, most loving way. She weighs nearly 28 lbs., 9 more than Addy at the same age. She's wearing clothes cut for a two year old. She has a voracious appetite. She also is utterly charming and easy-going. I am so grateful for her even temper, because mothering two such young children is no easy task. She makes very few demands of me, but stands her ground all the same. She literally stands her ground, but is not yet walking. I'm guessing this has something to do with her size (although she's hardly behind the average age, she is behind her two, little embassy pals who are the same age). I probably could work harder to get her to walk, but I'm really in no rush. They grow up way too fast on their own. No need to push it along any faster.

Happy Belated Birthday to My Little Flower:

Flora celebrated her first birthday while we were in Austria. So, there was no big party, no bells and whistles, no big presents. It was just us- Mommy, Daddy, Sissy, Kerstin, Puppa and the "boys." Adela had a big, first birthday party with ALL the bells and whistles, so I feel a little sad that we didn't do the same for Flora. She would have no memory of the party (and neither does Adela), but I know she's going to put it together someday, when she's looking through old pictures (or reading this blog). She'll see the big "hurrah" her sister had and how she was surrounded by a huge group of friends of family and how she ate cupcakes that I made with my bare hands. I really hope when Flora looks back, she knows that she only missed the party and that she was no less loved on her first first birthday.

Flora is the world's most easy-going child (and I used to say that about her older sister, but I was wrong. I hadn't met Flora yet). If she ever complains, it's for a darn good reason. The rest of the time, she's happy to laugh at life and take what she gets with gratitude. She's just a doll and I am so grateful to have her shiny, happy spirit to keep things in perspective when her sister is wreaking havoc on me and my surroundings. So, Flora, if you're reading this, 25 years from now, I hope you're not still working out your sibling rivalry issues and I hope you're not pissed that we didn't throw you a first birthday party (or a Christening party). You are so very loved-- I think of you as I close my eyes at night and as soon as I wake up in the morning. If Addy is my clone, then you are my foil, which is arguably more important. The first year I had you in my life was the best yet. I love you. Happy Birthday!

Our First Ever "Family" Ski Trip, Part 1: Introduction and Overview

I have been having a hard time writing this blog. First, I am having major computer problems these days. My beloved MacBook Pro is no longer holding a charge and occasionally, packs a rather forceful electrical shock. Second, with all that's happening in Japan, I feel like talking about my awesome, middle-class ski vacation is a little insensitive. And finally, a big part of me feels like I should be writing about the fact that Congress wants to take food and toys away from my children because that's a truly "hot topic."

But, right now, my computer isn't giving me electroshock therapy. My perspective on the Japan disaster is probably of little interest to you and I know there are people and bloggers out there who are much better equipped to handle the subject of Congressional budget cuts and how they will impact those of us in the Foreign Service. So, here goes:

Our First Ever "Family" Ski Vacation, Part 1 (Introduction and Overview):

Last week, the Whitneys packed up the whole clan and headed for the Austrian Alps for a week of skiing (snowboarding) and family fun. We left Brussels with the car packed full of babies, dogs, skis, snowboards and all the clothes and toys we need to get through 10 days without access to laundry (brother!). We picked up "Puppa" (Stefan's aunt, Henriette, and our saintly babysitter on the trip) in Bonn and then continued through Munich, where we grabbed Kerstin (Stef's cousin, Puppa's daughter). 8 1/2 hours and several tantrums and pee breaks later, we made it to Mayrhofen, Austria- a little Tyrolean village in the valley surrounded by giant, craggily, snow-covered peaks.

I have skied (snowboarded) all over the Rocky Mountains and the East Coast, but I had never been to the Alps before and had, of course, always wanted to go. It turned out to be everything I had always dreamed it would be. While the ski conditions weren't the best I have ever experienced (it's been warm and there hasn't been a ton of precipitation), the charm of the villages, the breath-taking vistas and the divine Austrian fare made up for that 10-fold. The trip was so incredibly interesting that I decided to break my blogging about it into three parts ("Introduction and Overview", "Tyrolean Cuisine", and "Lessons Learned While Traveling with the Whole Family").

"The View From the Top" (taken from the tippy-top of the Hintertuxer Gletscher, one of the three ski resorts we hit while staying in Mayrhofen):


"The Whole Crew" (minus the dogs, eating dinner in the Neue Post Hotel Restaurant):

"Happy Again" (Stef and I are never happier than when we are skiing and snowboarding together):

The Skiiers (Kerstin, Stef and I were able to ski 5 out of 6 days thanks to Puppa's willingness to hang with the toddlers):

Action Shot (Mommy, the "shredder"):

Action Shot (Daddy catching some "air"):

"Someday..." (Flora and Addy trying on our "Brain-buckets"):


Addy and I on our terrace, enjoying the view:

Just one of the death-defying rides up to the top of the mountain:

Riding up to the top with 30 other enthusiasts:


So, that's "Part 1." Stayed tuned for Parts 2 and 3. I gotta run; my computer is telling me so.

A Very, Very Important Visitor:

When I was younger, I was very fortunate to do a lot of world traveling. I had the benefit of a high school which promoted travel and organized annual trips to Europe and the Far East. Then, in college, I took advantage of every opportunity to travel with friends, one of whom had a family home in a little town in Provence where we went almost every summer to wander around Southern France drinking Rose and flirting shamelessly in horrendously broken French. I also did a semester abroad at Oxford and used that as a springboard for even more travel around the UK, Ireland, France and Spain. Just after graduation from college, my father, stepmother, brother and I went to China along with my stepmother's parents and our very dear family friends, Bob and Fernando.

When I "grew-up," I continued to travel as much as I could possibly afford to and I eventually got a job writing and producing corporate videos, which sent me on more overseas trips than I can count, one of which was actually a true "around the world" adventure-- 9 cities in 17 days; we went from China to India to multiple stops in Europe to Baltimore and back to California.

With all this travel and all the exposure I was so very, very lucky to have, there was a quiet and deeply emotional sentiment that I carried with me; my mother and my stepfather had never been outside of the United States of America. And as much as they may have thought (and still might) that all I was thinking about was my own selfish enrichment, I never stopped thinking about how much I wanted to change that fact. It was not something I could have easily done at any point in my life before now (in spite of the rather glamorous story I am currently telling, I was always squeaking by with absolutely nothing left to spare). So, every time I have been in a brand new foreign city, looking at some incredible landmark or piece of artwork that can only be seen in that place, I think to myself how much I wish they both could be seeing it with me. I vowed many years ago, that someday, I would make it happen and they would see at least some of the incredibly beautiful and interesting things I have seen outside of the continental USA.

Well, just over two weeks ago, half of my dream came true. As some of you might know from previous posts and from knowing me, my mother is much too ill to make the journey from New Jersey to Belgium. But my wonderful, amazing stepfather and dear friend, Elliott Lewis is not! And he came, thanks to the many miles Stefan accumulated from business travel in his last job. He came for 5 days (a short trip for some, but the absolute maximum amount of time he could bear to be away and that my mother could survive without him).

We had a wonderful time. It was a brilliant combination of much-needed family time and adventures around Belgium. In addition to some local sightseeing within Brussels, we went to Bruges and to Ghent, both of which were beyond beautiful and exceeded all expectations. People have said many times that Bruges is so beautiful, picturesque and clean that it feels like a movie set. It really does. When you close your eyes and imagine what an ancient European city should look like- Bruges is it. If you find yourself in Belgium and you've not been to Bruges, you absolutely must go. It's gorgeous. Ghent is also outstanding and it has one thing over Bruges-- it doesn't seem to have the emphasis on tourism that Bruges has, so it's a little more authentic in that way. Go there too. It's totally awesome and I can't wait to go back. To shop, to eat, to meander around giant, monolithic temples to medieval torture (those ancient "Belgians" were sadistic bastards, btw).

Anyway, having my stepfather here was a much needed dose of family love and I am so glad we were able to make it happen. The only thing better than realizing that longtime dream of showing him the world, was actually having him here.

On that note, here are some pictures from our adventures (taken with a real camera, not my blackberry, Eve ;) ):


My super-awesome Stepdad, skipping around Bruges:

The gals just kickin' it in one of the oldest operational Town Halls in all of Europe:

The View from the Belfry in Bruges (ever see the movie, "In Bruges"?:

My super-duper little family, of which I couldn't be any prouder!:


A funny picture of Adela that has nothing at all to do with my Stepfather's visit, Bruges, OR Ghent, but I that I thought was worth sharing:

Why Blog?

Recently, someone said that they think I share too much on-line.

I paused when I heard this because I realized that I probably do share a bit more than is comfortable for some.

When you're part of the Foreign Service "blogosphere", you get real cozy, real quick. There are so many of us and we are, without exaggeration, a family of sorts. It's easy to think of that particular audience and feel safe sharing your feelings without hesitation. You know that there is this special group of people out there, literally speckling the globe, who understand your deep, deep need to feel a part of something. When you're so isolated, as we all are, it's huge relief to be able to vent to people who can relate to the lonesomeness and to our very unique struggle to find connection.

For instance, the minute you/your spouse joins the Foreign Service, you are catapulted into a life defined by uncertainty. First, you are uncertain about what your temporary life in Virginia will be. Then, you are caught in the purgatory of waiting to find out where you will be posted and then of course, you have no idea what to expect once you get to post. No amount of travel literature, personal post reports or even correspondence with people at that post, can create a clear picture of what your individual life will look like. We all try very hard to imagine, but there is no possible way to uncover the specifics until you arrive at post and begin to peel away the many layers of a new place for yourself. And that's just the first time around. For many of us, we will go through this process as many as 10 or 15 times in a lifetime! So, what do we do with all this uncertainty? Well, we think a lot... we speculate a lot... we talk a lot... and of course, some of us blog a lot.

The sheer number of bloggers out there are proof enough that it is part of human nature to want to share our feelings and experiences. And the range of what people will share online is literally staggering-- bloggers share everything from our sexual proclivities to our strategies for saving money at the grocery store to our political views to our failings as parents to our favorite restaurants and on and on and on. There are as many different blogs out there as there are personalities to write them.

So, add to this obviously very natural desire to share our feelings, the unique characteristics of Foreign Service life and it's no wonder that so many of us do it--- if for no other reason than it feels completely natural and fills an ever-widening void in our hearts. We are a lonely group (particularly the trailing spouses among us) and we spend most of our time, online and off, looking for people who can understand how we feel.

This is why I blog. I blog to feel a part of something and I blog to feel that people actually care about what I have to say (because in my physical life, there aren't very many people around to listen). And for those people out there who think I sometimes go too far in exposing my intimate feelings on everything from my mother's illness to my insecurities about my marriage to the sense of loss I feel at the sale of my family home, I want to say this: if anyone actually spends the time to read what I have written, then I firmly believe that they are worth sharing it with.

From what I can tell, there are two basic groups of people who read our blogs-- the friends and family who love us (and want to understand what our lives look and feel like) and our Foreign Service families-- hopeful members of the community and actively serving members. Those are two groups that I feel very good about and I don't much care about the people who think I am doing something wrong or inappropriate. This is what I need to do now, to get through, to get by and to feel like I am part of something beyond the walls of this house that isn't mine, in a country that isn't mine.

(and of course, as with every blog I write, this is just another unabashed plea for validation... )

Big, Big, Big News:

On Saturday, Stefan and I went to Cite du Dragon in Uccle. A friend of ours is in town for training on a new job and offered to stay with the girls (in exchange for staying in our guest room). I am pretty tired of the standard Belgian menu-- moules, frites, steak tartare, waterzooi, etc.-- and we'd passed this wild looking place before and had read it was good. So, date night took us to a giant, traditional, Belgian mansion turned Chinese banquet hall.

It was incredible-- like nothing I have ever actually seen in real life before. There must have been 300 people eating in the mansion's many dining rooms. There were traditional Chinese sculptures everywhere and loads of pink and blue florescent lights. The floor in the main dining room was clear and underneath it, swam giant, over-fed Coi of all shapes and colors. There were fountains spouting recirculated water into ponds covered in footbridges. It was ostentatious, gaudy and decadent, all the while having a certain self-effacing charm.

It is not a stretch to suggest that Cite du Dragon is a perfect metaphor for our Foreign Service life-- it was once a perfectly proportioned, Belgian mansion, snuggled into the charming Flemish commune of Uccle and now, it's a huge, outrageous Chinese banquet hall where families come to mange on endless buffets of dim sum, sweet and sour chicken, fried rice, lychees and tapioca.

You're probably scratching your head and wondering what the hell I am talking about. Well, on Friday night, I returned home from an evening walk through the park with the dogs and Stefan handed me his blackberry and told me to read the message entitled, "Assignment Notification: Whitney, Stefan." My jaw dropped. We had only sent in our bid list on January 27th. How could we possibly have been assigned already? But sure enough, I opened the message and it read, "Congratulations, we have carefully reviewed all bidders... and we have selected you for the following position: SHANGHAI, CHINA 10/2013."

So, we are going to Shanghai next! For those who don't know, Stefan had CNL (Critical Needs Language) points for Mandarin, Chinese when he joined the Foreign Service and we are therefore obligated to serve in a Mandarin designated post on one of our first two tours. Knowing this, we strategically bid on Western European and South American posts the first time around. Shanghai, while not a total shock, is still incredibly exciting because we easily could have been going to a more remote, industrial Chinese city instead. We have dodged yet another bullet and we are going to another beautiful, exciting and relatively easy to acclimate to city. Yippppppeeeee! The super-lucky Whitneys strike again.