DutchInLaw

In Dutch, there's a phrase  mee bezig zijn.  It translates literally to 'to be busy with', but it means more than just being busy and extends to the idea of being occupied. If you asked, I could say, " Mijn blog? Daar ben ik niet zo mee bezig, de laatste tijd ." I haven't been occupied with my blog lately. A word you can use in combination with  bezig  is  druk  - which also means busy. Work can be  druk , traffic can be  druk , a hyper toddler who wants to touch everything and run everywhere in our new house is definitely  druk . And together, the words come out as (very) busily occupied, which is what we've been since we signed papers to buy a house in August. Since then, we've been packing, moving, unpacking, and renovating a huge house in a quaint old neighborhood, down the river from Rotterdam. Or up the river, depending on what way you're looking. It's a beautiful old house, dating back to around 1910, but is also a major fixer-upper,...

Some days we just burble along here. Other days are OSSIM. Today was an ossim day.

From my kitchen I can hear his argumentative voice echoing through the stairwell. Phoning a friend? Venting to a coworker? Times are hard. People don't pay what's fair. He has to working extra to make ends meet. He scrubs and complains, tossing in a few curse words. And his loud frustration might wake a napping Pippin. Should I interrupt his rant to ask him to quiet down a bit? Probably not. I've been missing the other, older workmen. I'd started to think of them as 'ours' during the weeks that they were in and out, chatting with the awestruck Pippin as they painted and operated the machines outside. It felt like having uncles around when they offered to help me haul the buggy downstairs or complimented my coffee. Their singing (yodeling?) made me smile. But this new guy, with the loud angry voice. Who's to say he wouldn't pause talking on the phone long enough to cuss me out or give me the finger? I'll just ignore him and hope Pippin sleeps thr...

"Can you call me instead of ringing the doorbell when you come? I just put Pippin down for a nap...." I text. The sanding machine starts up with a roar five minutes later. The workman warbles. The ladder creaks. I debate my choices. It's been a good morning. My mother-in-law came by for coffee this morning, then 'parked' a bag with us to pick up later. "No problem, we'll be home all day," I had told her cheerfully, but that was before the workman arrived. A friendly bear of a man rang the doorbell holding a bucket and asked politely for some warm water. He said he'd be sanding and scraping today, and working on the old white wallpaper in the stairwell (who wallpapers a stairwell in the first place?) Since we three inside were having coffee and pastry, why not share? My parents used to make entire pots for workmen, and I feel very grownup to be able to offer some from my own kitchen. The workman returns the coffee cup and plate at bre...

Dorcas moved through the living room curiously, looking at the simple but homey furnishings. "Such a lovely idea to have a housewarming party. Your siblings will be here, of course, but it is a small apartment. I hope you weren't planning on too many other friends coming?" "Oh, you'd be surprised how many people can fit when they're welcome." J's eyes twinkled. 

We received an official letter with a notice of upcoming painting scheduled for our apartment building. The letter included a warning that all inhabitants of our building will be equally billed if painters have to clear the public spaces. A week later, there are still broken bikes and old couches in the basement. Since we have several foreign neighbors, I printed a friendly note in English and dropped a copy in everyone's mailboxes. Then I saw a to-the-point Dutch note already hanging in the hall.  It's fascinating because this sort of issue brings up conflict. 

New cotton shopping bag from Lidl! I use these sturdy cotton bags for everything - carrying recyclables to the container, sorting laundry, hiding gifts or food (non transparent!) and of course for groceries. I had been eyeing the new style for a while but already had several of the old cream-colored ones at home.  Today Pippin and I stopped spontaneously by Lidl on the way back from the park and I got more groceries than could fit in my backpack. Alas, we had to buy a new bag :)

Marinate chicken, fry it on high. Start to set the table, soothe a hungry 1 year old, then hurry back to the kitchen when you remember the stove is still on. Hurriedly remove now-smoking chicken from heat. Open a window before the smoke alarm starts, then whirl to rescue bottles from 1 year old who is exploring the usually gated kitchen. Yell accidentally at 1 year old, remove 1 year old from kitchen, remember to turn off fire while still holding smoking pan. Put chicken down, shut kitchen gate, and apologize to the now-crying 1 year old. Kiss husband when he walks in the door in the middle of the chaos. Accept compliments on the smoky yet sweet flavor of the new favorite dish.

Our house is relatively child-proof, but Pippin keeps getting older and faster. If I leave a door open, he finds it, guaranteed.

Nike high-tops and slouchy cool clothes, a cigarette in one hand and a phone in the other. The epitome of an urban "Cool Kid", a young man leans against the corner of a cafe as I walk by with Pippin. Or try to walk by.                     

Since we've had a baby, I've become very aware of the next-door-neighbor-through-the-wall. Since he's in the next building over, we don't see him in our stairwell and say hi. We don't know his name or whether he has a significant other. We just know that there's a good chance that our crying baby bothers him and that his loud music definitely bothers us. When someone is faceless it's easy to reject them. To sigh in frustration, make snarky comments about their music taste or laughter, and yet be uncomfortably conscious that we might be annoying them too. To grumble about the parties they throw and yet never actually get to know what sort of person they are. On Saturday I met our neighbor.

From this... to this. From this... to this. My kitchen will be so much tidier now. And the Het Goed 2nd hand store should be rather pleased (I hope) when they sort through the stuff we brought them. Stuff that we have appreciated, and enjoyed, and are now ready to pass on to someone else who will use it more than we do. Storage issues and moving possibilities aside, it bothers me when we hold on to things that we don't use. My ever-patient husband is great at reminding me to stop and consider whether we need something before I buy it on a whim ("I think you need a lightsaber") or toss it on a whim ("It's summer - let's get rid of the fat scarves.") I'm good at questioning whether we need to keep certain things that rarely get used in our lifestyle. Vases? Ice skates? File binders? Some things go in a give-away pile; some stay but get better organised. Meanwhile, Faramir and I sit together on the couch in the...

The elderly lady in the elevator with me trailed off, then finished, "Nou, ja, zo gaat het." So it goes. I nodded and added a sympathetic "Helaas," back. She said she'd lived in our apartment building about 14 years. I'd guess she was in her sixties or seventies, and could picture her moving in with her husband, making a home here. We talked about how beautiful the view is from up high... maybe she and he sat on their balcony and drank coffee together, the way D and I do. Maybe they had hanging plants to substitute for the beautiful gardens in their previous house. It's rare to see a bare garden here, much less a messy one; block after block of houses overflow with flowers or are neatly tiled and decorated. I found six beautiful pink geranium plants in the dumpster room downstairs the other day, and brought them upstairs to be repotted and talked to. D laughed and asked if we "achter de geraniums wonen" - if we "live behind the geranium...