Dutch Ingenuity. Restroom & Toilet Revisited.

1 September 2013

 

toilet

 

One of the most unpleasant adjustments I had to make in the Netherlands was becoming accustomed to the dreaded Water Closet, more commonly referred to by Americans as the restroom.

 

Taking the term “Water Closet” literally, the standard Dutch restroom has been reduced to nothing more than a “standing-room only” space outfitted with a toilet. A claustrophobic’s real world nightmare, one has to cleverly maneuver themselves inside, close the door, adjust their clothing, and appropriately decide the most comfortable position for their limbs.

 

With my comparatively miniature 5″1 frame, I cannot help but wonder at times how adult-size Dutch people (many towering well above 6″ feet) manage to get themselves inside the cupboard-like room. With such long legs, I can only guess that the most comfortable position for these giants is having their knees strategically pressed against the door. Granted, the Dutch have only been recently declared as the tallest people in the world and thus such inconveniences may not have been realized until now.

 

Arguably the most alarming feature of a Water Closet is the infamous Dutch toilet bowl. Dutch engineers have designed the bowl itself to contain a plateau set well above the normal water level. To say the least, one must be very comfortable with themselves and all their excrements on the display shelf. Why the Dutch would have such a perverse desire to examine or witness their waste remains a mystery. Perhaps it is the lingering Dutch sentiment of having reclaimed the land from the sea that extends towards this toilet philosophy. By having a plateau set above the water level and having the option of controlling the amount of water to be flushed, the environment might provide temporary comfort in assuring the Dutch that they are still masters of the sea.

 

Once a person has completed his/her business, he/she is confronted with the new challenge of cleaning up one’s own mess. Having just described the Dutch toilet with its unashamed plateau showcasing one’s most recent accomplishment, one can only imagine the new task that must, with all politeness, be dealt with. Never fear! The Dutch have ingeniously provided a compulsory toilet brush and chemical laden toilet cleaner appropriately within reach.

 

Newcomers may benefit from such an embarrassment with this Insider’s tip:

First line the plateau with toilet paper and tactically aim one’s most recent stomach contents onto it. A single flush will hopefully leave no shameful streaks and unnecessary expenditure of one’s energy and the costs of the toiler cleaner.

 

Never loosing the opportunity to exercise Dutch thrift, most would also have the opportunity of witnessing Dutch hydraulic ingenuity first hand. They can either choose a smaller button to flush tiny amount of water, or a larger button promising a more robust flush to rid unwanted waste. Water of course isn’t free so one is cautioned to use water as sparingly as possible and only when absolutely necessary.

 

Last but not least, being in such a confined space, a display shelf, and lack of an electronic ventilation switch, one may also have to endure a robust, unpleasant aromatic setting. For those who do not enjoy the pervasive odor, they may be fortunate enough to find an air purifier. I highly recommend AmbiPur Puresse, an air fresher that provides relief and is also hypo allergenic.

 

After having mastered the Dutch Water Closet and all its glory, one can then truly leave with a sense of being productive for the day.

 

Hello World, I’m a Stay-At-Home Mom

1 September 2013

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“I remember you! You’re that brain that studied nuclear science at MIT right?” said an over enthusiastic, slightly inebriated acquaintance at a mutual friend’s wedding.

 

“I studied Molecular Biology at Berkeley,” I replied.

 

“What are you doing now?” he inquired.

 

“I’m a stay-at-home mom, ” I said as a knot started forming in the pit of my stomach.

 

“Are you kidding me?” he quipped back with a mixture of pure amusement and shock on his face.

 

I shook my head no and to add fuel to the fire of his amusement, I also blurted out, “And I have a master’s degree in Health Economics with distinction that I’ve never had to use.”

 

When in the midst of polite conversation at any social function, sooner or later the infamous “What are you doing with your life” question arises. Eventually, out of concern (whether genuine, feigned and/or condescending), someone feels compelled to inform me of what could be the biggest mistake of my life and that I really should be working for my own personal development.

 

I graciously smile and give them my standard response, “I’m perfectly fine thank-you very much. I’m beyond the point of tired, but I am grateful to have the opportunity to simply take care of my son all day long and try my best to enjoy all the fleeting moments of his young life. He’s only a baby once after all.”

 

Later that night, still on that special high that one gets when watching two beautiful souls professing everlasting marital love, I serendipitously stumble upon 27 year old Ellen Huerta’s Why I Left Google.

 

Though I’m obviously not as successful as she is,  her story nonetheless deeply resonated inside of me. As the first-born child of immigrant Filipino parents, my self-worth was inextricably tied to my visible accomplishments, the kind that merited parental bragging rights and parties to celebrate just how oh-so-wonderful I was.

 

Adele Barlow basically sums up my childhood experience when she eloquently writes in a follow up  commentary to Huerta’s article:
The status-conscious parent who has worked their whole life to send their kids to the ‘right’ schools will be the toughest on their offspring when said offspring decides to leave the ‘right’ job for a future much harder for said parent to position to judgmental, equally status-conscious friends.”

 

Starting at the age of ten, a light bulb turned on and I discovered the secret to excelling in school. I became obsessed with getting straight A’s. What I was really searching for was the external validation from my parents, in particular that of my mother who would, hands down, put any self-proclaimed tiger mommy to shame. Out of respect for her, I will refrain from going into further detail, but I can assure you that I could potentially make any psychologist earn a decent upper middle-class income just to sort me out.

 

About six years ago,  I decided to follow my now Dutch husband back to his home country the Netherlands. Taking a leap of faith, I somehow mustered the courage to follow my bliss rather than the pre-constructed future my parents concocted.  I was going through a quarter-life crisis, unsure, insecure and quite regretful about all the choices I made up to that point. What life was I really living? Why was it so important what other people thought of me?

 

There in front of me was this amazingly gorgeous kind-hearted, goofy Dutch foreign exchange student completely smitten with me. It would be an understatement to say that the feelings were mutual.  I was one of the lucky few who literally had my future husband dropped on my doorstep.  I decided to take a leap of faith and live in a country I never had any interest in visiting, less alone reside in because I wanted to give the love-of-my-life a solid chance. I also knew that I would have been deeply unhappy if I hadn’t chosen love.

 

The answer to the original question from the well-meaning acquaintance should have been a resounding, “Yes, I’m currently a stay-at-home mom to my 16 month old bundle of joy. I’m also his teacher, cook, domestic help, nurse, psychologist, therapist, personal assistant  and best of all, partner in crime in this crazy adventure called life. ”

 

I’m all too familiar with the bitter sweet passage of time. As my first born baby rushes through milestones, I want to be able to be able to record each and every single one and store each fleeing moment safely in my heart.

 

I’m also working on better understanding and practicing the third metric of success that emphasizes a life well lived was rather more important than having the life others expect me to live. I’m also embracing gentle parenting, grasping the bittersweet reality that my son’s childhood only happens once and I shouldn’t rush him.

 

Through all of my life’s ups and downs,  there’s this one constant that has always stayed with me–my writing. I have so much I want to write about, to share with the world about what I’ve learned, what I’m still struggling with and just how fabulous my 16 month old really is.  Thus starts my official other status as a mommy blogger.  Please bear with me though as I do the majority of my writing when my baby’s asleep and quite a bit rusty just having woken up from a blogging hiatus of more than two years. I hope you enjoy what you read here!

My Little Gourmand: Eating with Joy

1 September 2013

 

The original version of this post was actually a Facebook update on my personal account. Happy Reading!

 

 

My beautiful, sweet boy,

 

Thank-you for all the fleeting moments that fill up my heart every single day. Some parents (understandably so) are proud of certain accomplishments such as sleeping through the night, early talking, walking, counting, singing, etc. You, our dear boy, can EAT and it fills our hearts with so much joy.

 

You especially LOVE fish (impressively eating a Dutch haring sandwich and finishing off an entire grilled sea bass by 10 months old), corn on the cob, fresh pastas, various cheeses, peas, all kinds of yoghurt, string beans, rice, squash, cherry tomatoes, avocado, broccoli, cauliflower, brussels sprouts, red bell peppers, and zucchini. You’ll also happily eat pinakbet (Filipino vegetable stew), bulalo (Filipino beef marrow stew) and chicken/pork adobo (Filipino national dish) with a healthy portion, or two of rice. You’re always open to having some strawberry or butternut squash risotto, an extra helping of ragu spaghetti and of course, lasagne.

 

Best of all, you’re willing to try anything new. Your adventurous and healthy eating could be attributed to baby led weaning, or not. It could simply be because your part Filipino that your love for eating is a genetic predisposition. Thank-you for giving us (and others around) the simple pleasure of watching you eat to your heart’s delight.

 

Almost 17 months, weighing 30lbs and growing out of size 24 month clothing. And if you happen to change and no longer our precocious gourmand who love’s to ea, or want to eat as much as you do now, that’s okay too. We’ll roll with the punches because we’re your parents. We will always love you!

 

Love,

Mommy