I start this review off with a disclosure: Mary Petiet and I have worked together at Amsterdam Mamas, and I consider her a friend. I have put off reviewing this book partially for this reason, and partially because I have been in pandemic survival mode, like everyone else. However, I gifted my yoga guide with a copy and she told me a few weeks ago how powerful she found it. So, inspired by her objective reaction, I decided to plunge in. After all, if  “Times of change are the times of greatest transformation” why not be a part of it? I could stand some transformation.

What Is Owl Magic?

Owl Magic, Your Guide Through Challenging Times is described on its cover as a “… toolbox of simple anxiety-busting strategies designed to reveal your hidden power.”

“Times of change are the times of greatest transformation” – Mary Petiet

How does it attempt to do this? Inspired by the owl, with its distinctive physical and mythological qualities, Owl Magic present the reader with a new way of seeing their times and their lives. It is a unique blend of comfort and challenge. Petiet makes the case that the challenges and sufferings of this pandemic are not unique in the history of the world; the human world has turned upside down before. In such tumultuous times, old patterns are replaced with new ones, and the relationships between people and power, societal and personal, also change.

Thus the challenge Owl Magic issues, gently, is how we can use this time in our own lives to change our outworn personal patterns, and to tap into our own personal power centers.

Different aspects of the owl serve as the inspiration for each chapter:

• Wisdom and Connection
• Retelling Your Stories
• Transform Through Turmoil
• Assume Abundance
• Face Your Fear
• Plant the Seeds for Future Growth
• Become the Hero of Your Story
• Renewal

Each of the chapters contains a concise and accessible exploration of its theme. Some philosophy, history, and feminist theory provide a framework for the practical guidance which follows:

1) A specific yoga posture connected to the theme of each chapter is suggested and carefully explained. The postures, or asanas, are simple and basic – nothing that requires any training: Owl, Mountain, Warrior, Tree, etc. These postures take on a new life when you understand they are manifesting a psychological reality as much as a physical one.

2) After the yoga posture is a guided meditation: an interior journey within your own imagination, yet following a specific path. The mediations are creative, lovely, and relaxing. At first I found myself wishing they were audios so I didn’t have to keep opening my eyes to read the next instructions, but I got around this eventually by reading them thoroughly beforehand and committing them to memory.

3) Finally, the chapters end with writing prompts: several questions or instructions for personal journaling. The prompts are not threatening and are normally open-ended, such as: 

• What kind of energy are you putting out? 
• Retell your most important stories.
• What is the hardest gift you have ever given?
• Make a list of all the things you fear.
• If you met the Earth Mother, what would you tell her?

Owl Magic is a book best savoured over time rather than done quickly. It would be a wonderful basis for an individual or small group weekend retreat, but it could also serve really well if taken one chapter per week, or per month as desired. It depends on how deep you want to dive, the pace you want to go.

I don’t share all of Petiet’s perspectives on history, religion, women, or owls (!) and this gave me pause, but I was relieved that Owl Magic is in no way a diatribe. It is rather a quiet and compassionate invitation to self-reflection, growth, and capacity building – psychological, spiritual, and physical. And while it may feel particularly pertinent now, during this pandemic, our lives will continue to have their share of these challenging times and Owl Magic can be like an old and trusted friend, visited as often as needed.

Owl Magic: Your Guide Through Challenging Times can be ordered online from Bol, Amazon, and Sea Crow Press.

Amsterdam Mamas received a free copy of this book in exchange for our honest review.

Photo Credit: Sea Crow Press

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Imagine sitting cozily on your favorite couch. Maybe the sun is pouring through the window, or you’re wrapped in a soft blanket. It’s quiet, and you’re daydreaming.

This is Niksen, the Dutch art of doing nothing.

In her new book, Niksen, Olga Mecking introduces the world to Niksen, the trend she discovered while living in the Netherlands. The Dutch work hard and play hard with a great work/life balance, and while they tend to be very busy, Mecking found they also take time to sit still, to niks quietly amid the busy routine to balance activity with moments of stillness.

In Niksen, Mecking shares the practice with the rest of the world and shows us how it’s done.

Anyone interested in the Netherlands will enjoy Mecking’s descriptions of life there, and residents will recognize the territory she covers. From work/life ratios to childcare to daily life in a small busy country, Mecking, who has lived in the Netherlands for 10 years, introduces the reader to the custom of Niksen, which is so ingrained in Dutch life she writes it may have actually taken an outsider to recognize it.

This is not a self-help book, rather it describes a way to slow things down, if just for a moment a day, so you can recharge and return refreshed.

In Niksen, Mecking outlines how to find stillness, where to find stillness, and describes its benefits. While she recognizes Niksen may not work for everyone, or be appropriate for all life stages, she also imagines a society built upon it, a Nikstopia: ‘We can’t meditate the climate crisis off the planet, we can’t hygge our-selves in our homes away while minorities down the street feel threatened. But we can niks for a while, and allow ourselves and our brains, rejuvenated and recharged, to come up with smarter solutions. And then we can get to work.’

Niksen can be ordered online from several vendors including Bruna, Bol, and Amazon.

Amsterdam Mamas received a free copy of this book in exchange for our honest review.

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Courage is the most important of all virtues, because without courage, you cannot practice any of the other virtues consistently.

~ Maya Angelou.

This is the quote with which author Trina Casey chooses to frame her story of the young Princess Safiya because Galaxy’s Whale is, indeed, a story all about courage. Not the usual kind of courage needed in fairy stories – there are no dragons or evil witches lying in wait for our princess. Here the battles are internal and the courage needed is the courage to be yourself. It’s an unconventional children’s book that can be read and appreciated on many levels. It can be read as a straightforward fantasy/adventure story with some refreshingly new kinds of characters (magical whales don’t show up much any more in literature!). It can be read as a psychological journey, with our young heroine having to leave home so she can see it, and herself, more truthfully. It can also be read as a journey of empathy into the experiences of others as Princess Safiya learns much more about the people who live in her real world. How you read Galaxy’s Whale is up to you, but there is a Parent’s Notes section with a helpful guide to facilitate discussions about the characters and themes of the book.

Meet the Author

Casey’s intention with this book, and with others to follow, is to create dialogue around real life issues in the world and help children learn to navigate these challenges with courage and empathy. A teacher, writer, and entrepreneur who has lived and worked on three continents, Casey is originally from California, but now calls Amsterdam home. Observing that she found herself making up stories to tell her young son at bedtime because she couldn’t find books that addressed real issues he was encountering in and out of school, Casey decided to create her own publishing company, This Real Life Books, which would focus on the genuine emotional experiences of children. She says, “Childhood trauma tends to get ignored, and if we as parents don’t address it, we send them out into the world not knowing what’s real.” In addition to writing, Casey also teaches an after-school course, Mindful Storytellers, at the De Nieuwe Internationale School van Esprit (DENISE).

Open the Book

So what is Galaxy’s Whale about? It’s a story of personal transformation and how it can trigger group transformations. Young princess Safiya is feeling frustrated: with the rigidity of the expectations placed on her as a princess; with the isolation of being born between nearly adult siblings and a much younger (half) brother; with the uncertainty of the affections of her father and stepmother. Intending to run away, she instead encounters a magical unicorn, Galaxy, who takes her into a whale’s mouth and across the sea to a magical land where she can reinvent herself, free from ‘real life issues’. Her delight in her new found freedom is very real, but she eventually is presented with the option to return to her real life, this time with the power of her self-discovery to give her courage. It is quite realistic that the characters in Safiya’s real world are not particularly conscious of their internal conflicts – they are just acting them out. It is only Safiya’s courage to speak about her feelings that helps her family evolve as well. Their ‘happily ever after’ does not come about through an external force stepping in, nor a heroic battle with monsters, but rather through one young girl’s courage to face her fears and speak her truth.

Galaxy’s Whale works as a fantasy tale, perhaps more for young children. However, it is really designed to be a springboard for discussion and dialogue. Through the “Parent’s Notes” section, the reader understands the symbolism of the different characters and locations and can more clearly see the myriad of topics raised in the book: blended families, societal expectations of males and females, sibling rivalries and love, mixed race families, grief’s impact on family dynamics. That’s quite a list, but they are canvassed subtly, both through the characters of Safiya and Galaxy, as well as the lovely illustrations of Mari Nkomo. 

Galaxy’s Whale is available at Van Rossum bookstore in Oud Zuid, Educulture Bookstore in Oost, as well as on Amazon and Bol.

Amsterdam Mamas received a free copy of this book in exchange for our honest review.

Anastasia Drost is the Editor in Chief of Amsterdam Mamas. She lives in Amsterdam, returned after many years, this time with a Dutch husband and two children.

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In this deeply affecting memoir, British journalist Gordon Darroch recounts how the experience of his wife Magteld’s diagnosis of breast cancer intensified their long held intention to move to her native Holland. The basic facts can be learned from the back cover of the book: Magteld is diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 36 as they and their two young sons prepare to move to her native Holland from Glasgow. Despite surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation treatment, they learn on the cusp of their move that the cancer has returned and Magteld has only a few months to live. But this memoir is much more than a recounting of the very real and powerful story of Magteld’s illness and its impact on their lives and plans. It is a reflection and a meditation on how life is often about the unexpected and what we do when we find ourselves in that place.

Time

As the title suggests, Darroch’s reflections on the nature of time, and its relationship to how we make sense of our own lives, are woven throughout the book. While the main “events” of the book take place within roughly a two-year period, the span of the book is considerably wider. Indeed for much of the book, Darroch eschews a strict chronological order, and toggles back and forth between the past and the present.

Thus, sweet stories from his first encounter with his future wife as teens at a campsite in Italy, and their long distance courtship (between England and the Netherlands) are interspersed with recountings of biopsies and oncologists; their learning of their firstborn son Euan’s autism years earlier is related between Magteld finding a lump in her breast and the subsequent diagnostic mammogram.

This careful interweaving of past and present allows us to learn who Gordon and Magteld are, how events in their past have shaped them, and makes the discovery and progression of Magteld’s illness much more affecting. Resilience, determination, and vulnerability in their characters and relationship are foreshadowed in the way in which they meet the surprising news that both of their sons, Euan and Adam, are autistic. The qualities of tenderness and sensitivity in Gordon and Magteld’s first kisses appear again in the careful and compassionate awareness of their young sons’ fears and anxieties during the course of their mother’s illness.

In a similar way, Darroch alludes to how the future, or what we imagine it will be, affects the way we meet the present. Darroch recounts a scene in which his son marks the date on the calendar for a postponed visit to Hamley’s, the famous London toy store, to buy a gift for his new baby cousin:

“He opened his diary at 1 April and wrote ‘Mummy get better’. And then on 6 April: ‘Go to Hamley’s, find something for baby Tim.’”

Honesty

Writing about people experiencing an unfathomably unjust illness such as Magteld’s is difficult; how can you be honest about the anguish of the struggle, yet not allow the frequently awful details to obscure the real people? Darroch navigates this beautifully. He recounts how Magteld approaches her cancer with a bold realism – not concealing her anger, fear, or struggles behind a courageous facade; there are many scenes of genuine angst where neither of them come across like a traditional hero or heroine. One particularly moving moment is near the end of Magteld’s life, where the sheer physical and mental toll of being primary caregiver pushes him to tell her he isn’t sure if he can take any more:

“She gritted her teeth and half closed her eyes. A molten core of anger rose in her voice. ‘Don’t you dare say that’ she seethed.

‘I’m just being honest’, I said.

I was shocked to see she was crying. As I tried to explain she became more distressed. She began hitting me, frenziedly. I felt the sting of her fingers as her limp fists slapped against my chest. ‘Just don’t send me back to the hospice’, she croaked.”

The simplicity and pain of this moment are very powerful, and Darroch shares moments like these carefully. One of the most skillful aspects of this memoir is his ability to share many deeply private moments like this – between his wife and him, or Magteld and their sons, her sister, her father, his mother and so forth – without ever compromising their essential privacy and dignity. It’s an extraordinary balance to achieve.

The Dutch Connection

In addition to the deservedly more prominent relationships explored in this book, there is also the relationship between the author and the Netherlands. Through the lovely, young Magteld, Darroch meets another culture and people. Loving Magteld and making a life with her means all the compromises and thrills that come with cross-border relationships.

As many of our readers appreciate, the Netherlands is a distinctive place; reading Darroch’s observations on Dutch customs and culture is like experiencing my own introduction to this lovely and unique place. Falling in love with a Dutch person and becoming part of a Dutch family brings this distinctiveness very close up, but it is only living here that makes the relationship truly complete, especially in the midst of a crisis. Darroch’s appreciation for the directness, compassion, and lack of melodrama around the way the medical community here cares for patients and families at the end of life was unmistakable. After Magteld dies, he spends some time expressing appreciation for the simple directness of Dutch condolence phrases:

“Mothers I had only known a few days approached me in the playground and said ‘Gecondeleerd’ (commiserations), ‘Dat is jammer om te horen’ (I’m sorry to hear that) and ‘Veel sterkte bij dit grote verlies’. This last one has no true equivalent in English – literally it’s wishing you strength in coping with a terrible loss. I was grateful for it, since strength was the thing I needed above all.”

All the Time We Thought We Had is not a light read. It may well make you cry. But it may also make you laugh. It will certainly not leave you unaffected.

Amsterdam Mamas received a free copy of this book in exchange for our honest review.

Anastasia Drost is the Editor in Chief of Amsterdam Mamas. She lives in Amsterdam, returned after many years, this time with a Dutch husband and two children.

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When and why did you decide to write a memoir about your family’s experience of the terminal cancer diagnosis of your wife Magteld? Has it been a part of your grieving process?

It was a significant part of the grieving process – actually, looking back I feel it prolonged the process, but I’m still glad I did it. I’d thought about writing an account of Magteld’s cancer treatment at the time and even kept a diary for a while, until the emotional toll of caring for her forced me to stop. I knew quite soon after she died that I wanted to write a book, but I wasn’t sure if I had enough material. It was such a chaotic and busy period of my life that writing it all down was about the only way I could rationalise what had happened. About eight months into the process I wrote a short version and entered it into a competition; it got on the long list, but more importantly it showed me that I could make a coherent story out of those events that people could relate to. Then it was just a matter of finding the time to write it all down, edit it and get it published. Setting myself that challenge helped me focus my thoughts at a time when they might otherwise have overwhelmed me. The other thing was that my children were too young to have deep, involved conversations about the loss of their mother, especially as they’re both autistic, so the computer screen was the place where I poured out all my emotional energy.

I wasn’t really prepared for the culture shock when we first arrived. I’d spent 20 years going back and forth to the Netherlands, so I flattered myself I knew the country pretty well, only to find out the hard way that living in a place is a very different experience from going there on holiday or visiting relatives. – Gordon Darroch

Moving country at the best of times is a huge undertaking, let alone when there is a serious illness happening. Did moving to the Netherlands become more of a priority after learning Magteld had cancer?

It’s not so much that it became more of a priority; we were just so committed to making the move that it would have been even more disruptive to turn back. Especially for the children, who wouldn’t have been able to understand why we were changing our plans all over again. We’d spent two years making preparations and Magteld had been going through cancer treatment for most of that time. And she was Dutch, so she wanted to spend her last days with her family around her. For all those reasons it made more sense to press ahead with the move, because there was no Plan B.

You seemed to have undergone a shift in your feelings about some aspects of Dutch culture since living here, from some frustration with bureaucratic rigidity to gratitude for its unaffected but compassionate approach to the end of life. Can you share a bit of how your perspective on Dutch culture changed through the experience of Magteld’s illness and death?

I wasn’t really prepared for the culture shock when we first arrived. I’d spent 20 years going back and forth to the Netherlands, so I flattered myself I knew the country pretty well, only to find out the hard way that living in a place is a very different experience from going there on holiday or visiting relatives. The bureaucracy is a great thing in many respects because it means things actually get done in an orderly way, but there’s a lot of paperwork involved and to an outsider it can be very intimidating when you first encounter it. I think you go through various phases when you move to a country like the Netherlands. At first you walk about in starry-eyed wonder at the clean streets, the fleets of bicycles and the plum-straight canals. Then you start to feel worn down by the endless regulation and the fact that nobody will have coffee with you unless you’ve arranged it six weeks in advance. So you learn to love the place, but it’s a mature, critical kind of love, which in my view is much healthier. I definitely think the Dutch have a more constructive attitude to death: people are much more open about discussing the end of life and how they want to say goodbye to their family and friends when the time comes. British people tend to avoid the subject, as if the fact that you’re going to die is some kind of guilty secret that you shouldn’t share with anyone. Families grieve together in the Netherlands, which I see as a positive thing.

Experiencing grief is always difficult, particularly in a different culture. In your book there is a story about your being helped by strangers after a bicycle accident on an icy morning. You seemed to appreciate the feeling of belonging to a community. How are you weathering the experience of grieving in a different culture?

I look back on that episode as a kind of turning point, when I realised that beneath all that bureaucracy and formality there are still human hearts beating. My experience has been that people are always willing to drop everything and help out in an emergency, sometimes to a fault. You get a lot of unsolicited advice from strangers, not all of which is welcome. But it’s still better, on balance, than being ignored or suffering in silence. Having said that, there were times when the loneliness was amplified by the fact that most of my friends were on the other side of the North Sea. That’s partly a male thing too – men aren’t so good at opening up to each other when they’re feeling down, and the more formalised culture here sometimes deters you from taking that first step of picking up the phone and calling someone.

You open your book with two quotes, by a Dutch and a British philosopher respectively. 

“Emotion, which is suffering, ceases to be suffering as soon as we form a clear and precise picture of it.” – Baruch Spinoza, Ethics

“So what if I die. Let me discover what it is that I want and fear from love.” – Gillian Rose, Love’s Work

Why these quotes and was the Dutch/British thing intentional?

Anastasia Drost is the Editor in Chief of Amsterdam Mamas. She lives in Amsterdam, returned after many years, this time with a Dutch husband and two children.
 

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Roos Stallinga, who was born and bred in the Netherlands (and can thus be classified as an expert cycler), starts her guide by laying out a few essential do’s and don’ts when you attempt biking in Amsterdam. For while it is true that most people learn how to cycle as a child, riding a bike in Amsterdam is a completely different story! Stallinga briefly explains the rules of the road and where to buy a proper bike, but she also shares all the inside info on how to become an all-round Dutch cyclist. For example, although you can cycle in whatever you want, don’t wear a helmet! It is a very uncommon thing to do in the Netherlands, and will immediately make you stand out.

After spending her first chapter getting us acquainted with “the Amsterdam cycling dance” (a direct quote from one of her Amsterdam interviewees), Stallinga moves on to the core of this book: discovering Amsterdam via two wheels. The book is organised by different cycling routes; there are eight routes in all, each exploring a different area of the city. Every chapter starts with a very detailed map of the route and will include a list of must-sees, need-to-visits, and hidden gems, which run the gamut between the obvious ones like the Rijksmuseum and the Jordaan, to lunch and coffee spots that will be new even to most Amsterdammers.

 All in all, after cycling these different routes you are officially a true Amsterdammer – and a professional cyclist for that matter! And you will see the city in a whole new light!

Every part of the city is thoroughly covered and full of pleasant surprises, whether it is the better known attractions in southern Amsterdam like the Amsterdamse Bos and the vibrant De Pijp neighbourhood, or the less well travelled areas such as Amsterdam Oost and the multicultural Zuidoost. The final three routes take you to the Oostelijke Eilanden and IJburg, Amsterdam Noord, Durgerdam and Amsterdam West. All in all, after cycling these different routes you are officially a true Amsterdammer – and a professional cyclist for that matter! And you will see the city in a whole new light!

While reading the book, I made several new additions to my ‘love-to-go-there-once’ list. Some of these include Hemelse Modder (Heavenly Mud) described in Route 1, where, among other great dishes, they serve heavenly chocolate mousse (hence the restaurant’s name); a secret swimming spot at the stunning Prinseneiland;  and the little known Museum Het Schip which celebrates the architectural and design achievements of the Amsterdam School of Architecture (Amsterdamse School).

The route descriptions would benefit from including more practical information such as length and level of difficulty. Is it beginner, average or expert at cycling along the narrow canals? Is it kid friendly? For instance, Route 1, which takes you across the busy Red Light District, might be a bit too tricky for a complete novice; Route 7, which explores the North of Amsterdam and its surrounding villages looks like a pretty long ride if you go with kids.

Stallinga, who produced this book herself together with designer Remi Brouwer did a fantastic job combining facts, tips, suggestions about where to cycle – and where to take a well-deserved break – interspersed with comments from local Amsterdammers who both explain and express their love for a certain neighbourhoods in Amsterdam, as well as talk about their personal relationships with the good old Dutch two-wheeler.

Stallinga and Brouwer put a lot of effort in the content as well as the layout of the book. The photos in the book – from bikes being fished out of canals to a lovely sunset view in Westerpark – really add to the content and the suggested cycle routes. Ride with Me – Amsterdam is a must-read for temporary Amsterdammers, but definitely, if not even more, for the locals who can forget how beautiful it is to explore their own city.

By bike.

And without a helmet.

Amsterdam Mamas received a free copy of this book in exchange for our honest review.

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 Neuroscientist and author Xing Chen (pictured at left) grew up in Singapore and lived in the US and the UK before moving to the Netherlands in 2014. And what would be the first thing Chen bought on the first day she arrived in the Netherlands? Exactly. A bike. Or een stalen ros as we like to call them in the Netherlands – a steel horse. Learn to Cycle in Amsterdam is a must-read if you are not a born-and-bred Amsterdammer – I would even suggest for the local-born as well – if you want to master your way around Amsterdam on two wheels.

In this practically-sized, 157-page handbook, Chen explains everything you need to know – and every skill you need to master – about cycling in and around Amsterdam. Although most people have learnt how to bike in their youth and have probably done it for years, cycling in Amsterdam is a completely different story. That is why this book, as Chen explains in the first pages, is meant for people who already know how to ride a bicycle. It does not cover the technicalities of learning to cycle from the beginning.

As a Dutch national by origin, but living in London since 2005, I have personal experience of the huge difference between cycling elsewhere and cycling in The Netherlands. Especially when participating as a cyclist in the hectic traffic of Amsterdam. As Chen rightly states, “cyclists, not car drivers, rule the road.” This rule changes a lot about the way we cycle here.

What I found most appealing about this book is how Chen covers all the different aspects of cycling in Amsterdam. It wasn’t until I read this book that I realised how we underestimate the skills and knowledge you need to be a confident cyclist in Amsterdam. The often dangerous situations tourists on rental bikes get themselves into prove the importance of this book.

The Netherlands is known for its cycle paths separated from the main roads where cars drive, but then, in Amsterdam and in other Dutch cities, quite suddenly cyclists have to use the busy roads as there are no separate cycle paths. This can be quite confusing and very daunting, Chen notes. Chen also takes time to explain the different types of bikes: city bikes, sport bikes, folding bikes, and the very popular bakfiets in which parents transport their kids. From the official rules regarding traffic to the “how-to-make-sure-you-will-arrive-at-your-destination” rules, Chen has got it covered.

It’s great if you have mastered cycling Amsterdam-style, as well as knowing your way around Amsterdam, but knowing what your fellow roadies are up to is just as important, if not more so. Another important message Chen tells the newbie cyclist is that you should not only think about yourself in any given moment, but also one step – and if possible two steps – ahead as to what your fellow road-users might do. “Expect the unexpected,” Chen stresses, from the bakfietsen filled with three kids (at least!) to rows of students cycling side-by-side or cars turning right at the last minute. And let’s not forget the trams that graze past, because their tracks are next to most cycle paths.

All in all, the fact that Chen herself was new to the whole way of cycling in Amsterdam, might be the reason why she was able to write down all the essential rules and facts to take part in traffic on our beloved two-wheelers. A great read for those who are new to Amsterdam bike life, but also highly recommended for parents whose kids are about to conquer the cycle paths by themselves.

Learn to Cycle in Amsterdam was written by Xing Chen.  More information can be found at Learn to Cycle in Amsterdam.

Amsterdam Mamas received a free copy of this book in exchange for our honest review.

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Do Dutch moms have it all? Surely not – with only 16 weeks of paid maternity leave, an antiquated home birth system, and a maternity system run by midwives it’s hard to imagine why Dutch moms are so darn happy. But happy they are, if international studies and surveys are anything to go by. Colleen Geske (Stuff Dutch People Like) sets out to separate the fake news from reality about Dutch mothers in her book Stuff Dutch Moms Like (A celebration of Dutch parenting and why Dutch moms have it all).

Colleen shares her findings on topics from pregnancy to birth, and from postnatal care through to returning to work – and reveals why the wisdom of grandmothers and the three R’s (regelmaat, rust, and reinheid) are so important to the Dutch.

She states in the book’s conclusion: “I’ve closely observed how the Netherland’s prevailing values of freedom, independence, and egalitarianism have truly influenced all levels and domains of Dutch society – including that of motherhood.” They are certainly themes that run through all the different elements of Dutch motherhood that Colleen tackles in this book.

Stuff Dutch Moms Like kicks off with pregnancy and describes the choices around giving birth. It talks about affordable maternity care, an accessible and welcoming midwifery system, drugs and the pain of childbirth, and the expectations and the traditions around a Dutch birth.

The book then moves on to postnatal care. My favourite part of giving birth in the Netherlands (aside from the actual baby, of course) is covered: the kraamzorg, a maternity nurse who comes to your home after the birth. Once the kraamzorg has left, the baton of care for the baby passes to the Consultatiebureau. Is the maternity and postnatal care system the reason Dutch moms are so happy?

Before the baby is sleeping through the night it’s time to get back to work (the length of maternity leave certainly falls short of expectations). Colleen explores the ingrained culture of part-time working in the Netherlands, the now world-famous papa and mama days, and the support many Dutch families have from opa and oma when it comes to child care arrangements. Are the family-centric work policies the key to Dutch moms’ happiness?

The author also looks comprehensively at the ideas of regularity, rest, and cleanliness – the three pillars of Dutch parenting passed from generation to generation. Can we attribute Dutch mothering bliss to the wisdom of grandmothers?

En masse, Dutch mothers have said nee to being helicopter parents, instead opting for a more relaxed manner of parenting; the Dutch are determined to let children be…well, children. Colleen also explores the way in which Dutch mothers feel less guilt than other nationalities. Less guilt, more happiness?

Take a read and make your own mind up. One thing is for sure, reading Stuff Dutch Moms Like reminds us that we could all learn a thing or two from the Dutch when it comes to parenting.

Amsterdam Mamas received a free copy of this book in exchange for our honest review.

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Living abroad has its ups and downs and challenges, and they can become even more pronounced when you are pregnant…

Having a child can be a daunting enterprise and it’s been said that it takes a village to raise one. So what happens when that village happens to speak a different language and have very different customs from one’s own? In her book Knocked Up Abroad Again: Baby Bumps, Twists and Turns Around the Globe Lisa Ferland explores this question by sharing the many and varied experiences of women who have gotten pregnant while living abroad.

As a global villager myself, I could immediately relate to their stories, which ranged from the frustrating (how to get contraceptives while navigating a health care system in a language you don’t speak), to the exhilarating (how to explore archaeological sites with a six-month in tow) as well, unfortunately, as the heart-breaking and frightening. In short, the stories cover full range of experience we talk about when we talk about motherhood. And even those experiences we don’t talk about at all.

I am a first time mother, and I read this book while in hospital, waiting for my child to be born. The stories echoed many of the questions and experiences that I had dealt with throughout my pregnancy. From my reading I learned that it is normal to feel hurt when you are found wanting. As one mother puts it: “I’m glad for…the relative fewer comments on all the things I’m not supposed to do during pregnancy. It will take me until our child is about one year old to be finally able to care less about these comments”. It turns out I have at least 11 months to go!

The book is also a testament to the problem-solving powers that often develop from being lost in translation: “I opened the box and tried to make sense of the Spanish directions listed on the side of the box. Did that say one cucharita or cuchara (teaspoon or tablespoon)? What was the difference again?”

“But sometimes these things happen” is a thought often repeated in the stories. It is, in a nutshell, the main theme of the book. Living abroad has its ups and downs and challenges, and they can become even more pronounced when are pregnant; we tend to have an enhanced sense of how we want things to be done, how they are ‘supposed’ to be done. Often, the contrasts between our way and our adoptive country’s way can be as stark as the light and shadow in a Rembrandt painting.

The experiences of the women featured in the book attest to the many ways in which international families—regardless of their shape and size— adapt to new environments, customs, rules and experiences around pregnancy and childbirth. Their stories show that help can come from unexpected places, such as the Dutch kraamzorg service (subject of one mother’s ode), and also that the help from expected places, such as well-meaning family members, can sometimes drive us up the wall.

What I enjoyed most about Knocked Up Abroad was my increased understanding that all of these emotions are fine, and the newfound sense of connection that comes from knowing that other women, somewhere else in our global village, has experienced the same things.

Amsterdam Mamas received a free copy of this book in exchange for our honest review.

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If you were travelling by train from Amsterdam to Utrecht around the beginning of March and had to listen to someone in your carriage laughing like a snorting pig, sorry – that was me, with this book. If later the same week you were on a tram heading into Amsterdam centrum and you were trying to work out where that insane chuckling was coming from – me again, this book in hand.

Dutched Up! is a collection of tales and observations from women expat bloggers who have come from all over the world to make a home in The Netherlands. Every aspect of Dutch life is covered – from food to having babies, loving a dutchie and of course, cycling.

I rarely get to read these days thanks to a five-month-old baby, but this book’s delicious bite-size format makes it easy to dip in and out and steal a quick giggle or learn something new.

This wonderful collection of stories took me back to what it was like to be new here, navigating the alien supermarket aisles and trying to get Dutch people to actually speak Dutch with me. It also made me feel better knowing others had made the same mistakes as me (case in point, running to the doctors when I found out I was pregnant and him not having the faintest idea why I was sitting there telling him. And the horror when he googled to find me a midwife). Good also to know that I wasn’t the only one who has a Dutch man who I have begged to maybe just sugarcoat a little the criticisms he has: “I don’t criticise you, but if I think you’re not doing something right I must tell you, toch?”

There’s a character in Martin Amis’s book The Information, who describes his insane nicotine addiction as wanting to smoke his next cigarette while still smoking the one in his hand. This is sort of how the book made me feel about Amsterdam – it gave me a yearning to be somewhere I already am. Between the wry observations and familiar frustrations, I heard so much love for this small country, with its big personality and tall natives.

It moved me to tears of laughter over some hilarious google translations and sentimental tears of happiness over a description of the kraamzorg service, reminding me about my first week of motherhood and my own amazing kraamverzorgster. By the time I turned over the last page, I felt I had just been enjoying a kopje koffee with some girlfriends, swapping stories about our lives in the Netherlands. Can a book feel gezellig? Zeker weten!

Dutched Up! is available for purchase at The American Book Center in Amsterdam and Den Haag, as well as on Amazon. 

Disclaimer: Amsterdam Mamas received a free copy of this book in exchange for our honest review. 

Image used with permission

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