Some fun questions. You can copy them and put them in your blog if you like them. Or you can fill them out in the comments if you don’t have a blog.
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I really don’t understand how people can think of kids as “convenient” or “inconvenient”. I posted the following in response to someone’s post - and got a really big mouth from another reader. But that’s his problem. Some people seem to think that kids are objects - toys you can buy in the store and leave in the closet when you don’t want ‘em anymore. Skip the difficult years and get to the good stuff. But there is no “good stuff” with kids. There’s only “happy moments” - all the rest is very likely to be full of annoyances. But they’ll be annoyances that form a bond, like the annoyances you get from your sister or from your lover. Except that this is your child. You can’t say “I don’t want you anymore” when you’re tired of the annoyances. You can’t ignore it or put it in the trashcan when you’re done.

If you want kids, fine. But think about it first.

Kids aren’t toys. You don’t adopt because you want one. It’s not like going to the supermarket and picking a saucage because you feel like one.

It’s also not like picking a saucage just so you have one in case you feel like it tomorrow, or next week.

Babies and kids, adopted or not adopted, will require you to change your habits. Adoption is best when the child is young - under 2 years old. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t work when the child is older and that doesn’t mean the child is not going to be grateful, but it will be harder to bond with your child.

If you adopt or have babies, have them because you want them. Not because you think you’ll regret or not because you think it’s “the right [thing] to do at this time”.

If you adopt, love the child as your own. Don’t go “you should be grateful because I took you in”.

Also, there’s nothing selfish in breeding, damnit. It’s selfish to see kids as something that will fill a void in your life, like placing that leather couch in the corner, or buying a red corvette. If you think kids should be “conventient” then you shouldn’t even consider them. Not now, not later. They’ll never be convenient

I was going to write something awful and ugly about my tedious dealings with the local tax office, the fact that they didn’t know what form I was applying for, the fact that they didn’t know what the right procedure for the darn paper was or how incredibly unable to understand words containing more than two syllables the woman that “helped” me was.

But instead, I’ll write about something that isn’t less aggravating but has more news value. A story about the little man.

When I first moved to the Netherlands, I lived in a street that also housed a Vietnamese family. They had a food cart that they would take to town, selling Vietnamese food. After a few months, they were “driven” from their usual stand by a larger food cart. They moved their cart to an obviously less interesting place and after a while the food cart disappeared completely.

Today, upon visiting the tax office, I noticed three small papers announcing the public sale of their household. There were three papers, one for the man, one for the woman and one for the cleaning business they apparently set up after the food cart went ouf of business. These people have kids. And I know they tried to make a living. I wonder what’s going to happen to them.

I got up to answer nature’s call at around 6:00 am. For some reason, I couldn’t fall asleep again. It was still dark in the house, Anne was lying next to me and still I couldn’t go to sleep again. Tossing and turning, I looked at the clock and noticed it was 6:20. Weekwise, I would’ve been woken up by the alarm clock at 6:10.

So, to stop my biological clock from getting me and Anne to wake up early and sleeping through the day on the couch, we’re getting a new alarm clock today - one that has a setting for each day of the week, and more than one setting per day so Anne can have another wake-up call after I’m up and running. And we can then use that also to wake us for, say, nightly feedings.

We/I fired our singer. I called her Monday and explained the situation to her. To my surprise, she was understanding.

Yesterday, I got a postcard from her assuring me that she understood why we had to let her go and thanked me again for the time she had in the band.

I also quit smoking and I haven’t smoked in two weeks, now. Not the occasional cigarette, not the “I can smoke when I’m not at home” policy - just a clean break. This does provide some extra stress but I feel better, I taste better, I smell better. It also means I’m more irritable and less likely to compromise.

So when I make arrangements for a temporary singer and someone starts second-guessing the arrangement that I made, I am no longer compromising. And since I’m somewhat convinced that I am part of the problem, I’m seriously considering removing part of the problem.

I don’t feel elated. However, I’m convinced that this is what I have to do if I don’t want to go yelling at people. Which I don’t.

Well, this morning wasn’t quite as exciting as this early videogame. But I did take the bike to work this morning - despite the warnings of rain and cold weather. It actually all went rather smoothly and I drove past an 8KM traffic jam which, in itself, made all the effort of finding the waterproof boots, finding the waterproof gloves and getting fuel worth it.

It feels a lot more active, time seems to go by faster and it sure saved me at least 20 minutes commuting this morning.

Our first day in the studio … Here are some pictures to keep your eyes satisfied! (more…)

Anne just texted me that she felt the baby move for the first time. I can’t really explain how that makes me feel but people who play World of Warcraft may relate to this:

 FAAANTASTIC!

Next Monday, I have a rather unforeseen appointment where I’ll be applying for a new job within my current company. Excitement all around, of course, and a good chance at jumping a few sports on the career ladder.

I got burglared some time ago. That wasn’t funny. They stole my ID. It’s a piece of plastic which you need so you can prove you exist. Without it, you don’t officially exist. You can get fined, taxed and jailed without it, but you can’t withdraw money, get a phone or drive a car without it.

So I wrote the Belgian Embassy, filled out a very very long piece of paper and asked for a new ID-card and a new passport since the latter had expired.

Today, they called me and told me I wasn’t registered at their embassy yet and that I needed to do that first before they could send me a new ID. To do so, I have to call the city hall of Leuven, last know place of residence in Belgium, and asked them for a model 8. Wooow! Hold on! My wife’s a model but I’m not sure if she’s a model 8? No, a model 8 is a piece of paper that proves you actually left the country. As if I would go through all the hassle of asking for a new ID and passport if I could just go to the city hall in Belgium and ASK for a new one without complications. Oh, and I need to proved that I’m married. They won’t take my word for it.

So I call the Leuven city hall and, of course, the woman I get on the line says I need to be put through to someone else. And then I didn’t get put through and the lady I first spoke to picks the phone up again and says she’ll try to put me through to someone else. This includes less technological actions on her part as I hear her drop the receiver and walk across the office. I hear her go “mwnjhf jejbn sdfjd” with someone who responds “wkkjiuie llieuenf lfk”. She walks back, picks up the receiver and tells me I “need to send an e-mail”. When asked what to put in the e-mail, she tells me “what you just told me”. “What? “What do I put in the e-mail” is what I put in the e-mail?” … Anyway, I got it, she got it and the result is me sending an e-mail to an office that’s already covered in red tape and to which I’m just adding by tying a nice little knot in the ribbon. I think I’m going to be without official ID for quite some time to come …