Brussels

We've been here almost a week, and while there are still deep scars to heal from the year of separation and saying goodbye to family, friends and our Jack, I am pretty sure we are going to love it here. No internet or cable yet, but there is so much to see and do outside our door, who cares? I blew out my hairdryer and flat iron on the first day because of course I did, stupid 220V whatever. I now have a new dumb hairdryer that's dumb, but enough about my hair.

You guys, the second day after I got here I took a tram and a bus by myself. I did get lost a bit, but 40 euros worth of Belgian chocolates from a shop on my getting-lost-route and a 12 pack of French macarons for the kids and I was back on the right track. Belgian Kate is superior to Brazil Kate, is all I can say. My first week French is even better than my third year portuguese was.

The kids love their school. It's beautiful and set in the woods and they've all made friends. Dogs rule here (you can tell by the shit on the sidewalks), and they are welcome in stores and restaurants, so Seamus is kept busy by all the new butts to smell.

We are happy with our townhouse. Guess how many floors we have?

Four. Not counting the basement, which is old and creepy and filled with dead bodies, probably.

No, this is not an apartment stairwell. It's the inside of our house. I haven't seen Henry's little suite on the top floor yet, but I'm told it's quite lovely. The stairs are especially cool in that every one is a different size and they are all tilted in different directions. The first words out of one of the kids' mouth as they were tromping up them for the first time was, "Well, these stairs aren't up to code". Because Mitch is their dad.

The girls occupy the third floor.  They've shared a room every since they shared a womb, and this is the first time they have their own rooms. What's really cool is that they have sleepovers. Every. Single. Night. Grace even has a balcony (Olivia had no interest in having a door in her room for robbers to get in). 

Just up the street from our townhouse is a gorgeous park. The park has a waffle truck because we deserve it. Henry took one bite and said it was the closest he's ever been to a spiritual awakening. 

Sharing is caring.

You can rent a little rowboat or hop on a tiny ferry to get to that island restaurant. We did not try it yet because waffles.

My dog and my man and swans and shit.

Not a dump.

Things that are cheap here: wine, cheese, bread. Things that are expensive: everything else. We're all set. 

Well, I gotta go pack my backpack and fill my waterbottle for the trip up to Henry's room now.

 I'll leave you with a pic of our darling backyard: