Hurrah, my traffic has gone through the roof, Beth has mentioned me on her blog. Otherwise today has not been a fantastic day. No work. Good. Decided to go to Planckendael. Bad. When we left Brussels, it was nice and sunny. I was wearing my trail about in the mud flares that I got in a mutton dressed as lamb moment. This is important. It was raining in Planckendael. It was muddy. Unlike teenagers who don’t mind being wet to the knees in their trendy trousers, I like to be dry. So I rolled my trendy jeans up to the knee exposing a lot of hairy leg (look, I am still getting over the rash, shaving is not good – if you care, you will be glad to know that, at least, my legs no longer
look leprous). This is not really the look I was going for.
Meanwhile my daughter splashed in numerous puddles and had a fab time getting wet to the knee. The animals were all, very sensibly, indoors and invisible. Mr. Waffle pointed out that for 30 euros less and considerably more conveniently, we could have had the same experience in the park round the corner from our flat. Without wishing to sound at all partisan, I would like to go on record as saying Planckendael is not half as good as Fota.
We arrived home sodden and muddy. Put the Princess to bed for a nap and collapsed on the sofa. Mr. Waffle’s brother and his wife are coming to stay this evening. I hope that they’re prepared for a quiet time with lots of lovely babysitting…
Archives for May 2005
The indignities of motherhood
Princess (loudly and clearly): Qu’est que-ce tu fais Maman?
Me (whispering):� What do you think I’m doing?
Princess (gleefully and loudly):� Maman fait un gros caca!
I would like to point out that this was (a) untrue and (b) even if it were true, not the kind of thing I would choose to share with fellow bathroom users.
Comments
beachhutman
on 08 May 2005 at 21:58
Splendid. When she grows up she can engage in that excellent game of being British but actually understanding what they are all saying abroad. Often highly revealing! 
belgianwaffle
on 12 May 2005 at 19:27
Norah, Pog, Minks, yes.
BHM, you know we’re Irish, don’t you? You should be reading this blog with a Cork accent.
Fraternal Visit
Up on Wednesday morning at 6.15 to drop him off at the station to get the Ryanair bus to distant Charleroi. He arrived Tuesday morning at 9.30 and therefore spent just under
24 hours in Europe’s capital. He used to live here so instead of spending his precious 21 hours in Brussels looking at monuments he ate waffles. He seems to have enjoyed himself.
The Princess is getting quite used to constant visitors and took his arrival in her stride and his present as her due. However, she showed a lamentable tendancy to confuse him with Mr. Waffle’s brother who was here over the weekend. Given that, physically, they are entirely unalike, I can only attribute her confusion to the fact that she realises that they are both siblings of parents and so in some way interchangeable. My daughter is a genius. Other explanations for this confusion are, frankly, unwelcome. My
brother spent some time coaxing her to say his name and clarifying his
identity. I think he would be sad to know that, when she woke up the morning he left, she asked politely after her paternal uncle. My brother is also the reason I threw up at lunch time on Wednesday. We went for lunch together on Tuesday and I ordered flat water. Conversation as follows:
Him: Why aren’t you having fizzy, you always have fizzy.
Me: Well, at the moment fizzy makes me sick.
Him: But that’s ridiculous, we’re having lots of spicy Italian food for lunch and you’re saying fizzy water makes you sick.
Me: Yes, look, I know what I want.
Him: Snort.
brother spent some time coaxing her to say his name and clarifying his
identity. I think he would be sad to know that, when she woke up the morning he left, she asked politely after her paternal uncle. My brother is also the reason I threw up at lunch time on Wednesday. We went for lunch together on Tuesday and I ordered flat water. Conversation as follows:
Him: Why aren’t you having fizzy, you always have fizzy.
Me: Well, at the moment fizzy makes me sick.
Him: But that’s ridiculous, we’re having lots of spicy Italian food for lunch and you’re saying fizzy water makes you sick.
Me: Yes, look, I know what I want.
Him: Snort.
On Wednesday at lunch time, I thought, well, maybe he was right, it’s
been a while since I’ve been sick and I like fizzy water. So, I had fizzy water with my lunch and threw up. Sigh.
Comments
Jordana
(Homepage)
on 13 May 2005 at 13:14
The major thing I learned in early pregnancy is, If a pregnant woman wants/does not want an item of food or drink, that item must be had immediately/avoided studiously. There is no compromise when Bone-Melting Nausea is involved.
Fortunately, my husband is still traumatized by that experience, and is quite easily bent to my late-pregnancy will regarding food.
NorahSplog
on 13 May 2005 at 14:01
When my own feckless younger brother was the same age as the Princess he cottoned on to the idea that our eldest brother’s girlfriend was called Amanda (or ‘Veranda’ as he put it). For quite a time, any girl brought to the house by either of our older brothers was called Veranda. Nothing would change his mind much to the boys’ consternation. Like the Princess, he too must have noticed the interchangeability of the girls variously attached to my brothers. Genius.
belgianwaffle
on 13 May 2005 at 19:27
Norah, truly terrifying. Assume this is the detox brother.
Jordana, am relieved that I am not the only sick one. Poor us.
JD, um, yeah..
Mornings
Apparently small children are very sensitive and know when there’s something going on. Well, I think the Princess may either have worked out a) that I’m pregnant and her days as an only child are numbered or b) that we’re going to Paris for the weekend leaving her to the tender mercies of our (excellent) babysitter. Whatever it is, she is like a briar at the moment. Take the other morning.
7.00 Princess wakes singing to herself in her cot.
7.05 I go to get her up. She stops singing and wails pitifully “No, Mama, Papa, PAPA”.
7.10 Give her a bottle and hand her over to her father for breakfast while hopping into the shower myself. Hear from the fastness of the shower shrieks of unhappiness from the other room where the Princess is doubtless having her will thwarted in some cruel and unusual fashion (I don’t know, perhaps her father is refusing to let her throw porridge on the walls).
7.30 Suggest to herself that she might like to get dressed. She is against. Read “T’choupi likes the rain” together on the understanding that after this one story, she will get dressed.
7.40 Princess does not have the same understanding of our deal and brings over a small pile of T’choupi books. She is deeply displeased that I will not read them and shows her displeasure by howling lustily.
7.45 Lure her to the bathroom by promising to let her brush her teeth. Avert my eyes as she attempts to eat the entire tube of strawberry flavoured toothpaste we have purchased.
7.50 Wrest toothpaste from her and carry her howling, kicking and carrying 4 books to the bedroom.
7.55 World ends because books fall on floor.
8.00 Infant successfully picks up books. An instant of happiness. Infant insists on father sitting to read one. Father, hard hearted monster, refuses to do so. Deep and loud unhappiness.
8.05 Parents run around the house after small howling toddler. Pin her down, change nappy and put on t-shirt. All 3 parties somewhat dishevelled and exhausted.
8.15 Father capitulates and reads story. Mother surreptitiously puts on infant’s dress, tights and shoes.
8.25 Nameless angst grips our child. She is unable to tell us what is wrong. She gets her doggy and throws herself on our bed weeping and demanding to get under the covers and nap. We tell her that it is time for the creche. Wrong answer. Would it be ok if we put on her cardigan? No it would not.
8.30 Royal mood improves on sighting of Sheepsie. Doggy can be removed and returned to his sleeping place.
8.31 Infant notices that washing machine is on. Insists on watching it “wash, wash” while held by mother for safety.
8.36 Mother tires of washing machine experience and encourages father to transport infant and Sheepsie downstairs. Deep, deep unhappiness. We would like to watch the washing machine all day. Distraught
parents are presented with infant sobbing her heart out.
8.37 Hard heartedly leave house all the same and head off in car. Her highness demands to see her friend toddler L. Request refused. Unhappiness. Her highness demands a bottle. Request refused due to
lack of bottle. Unhappiness. Some mild singing is engaged in but mood is not good.
9.00 Arrive at creche. Hold Princess up to bang on fish tank and scare unfortunate fish who live out their existence with 15 small children. Hand her over to N. who is fresh as a daisy but, frankly, won’t be
after a day with our girl. Mother and father struggle into respective offices exhausted wrecks. And there’s more of that in the evening.
Aren’t full time parents absolutely fantastic?
Comments
Locotes
on 13 May 2005 at 15:40
*reconfirms plans to hold off on the kids for a long while*
Well at least she’s full of beans.
That has to be worth something.
Right?
belgianwaffle
on 13 May 2005 at 19:26
JD, you’re not the only one. I know, Norah, dreadful stuff. Locotes, um, yes, I suppose. You should get back to the studying so’s you’ll be able to afford fancy childcare in due course.
Locotes
on 13 May 2005 at 19:48
That’s probably the best reason yet to convince me to study – many thanks.
*runs to notes*
Instructions for minding our child for just over 24 hours
A little too detailed perhaps?
Samedi
12.00 Elle mange avec nous.
12.30 Elle va dormir. On va lui expliquer avant que nous partons jusqu’a demain soir et que vous allez etre là .
vers 15.30/16.00 Elle va se reveiller. Elle doit etre changée. Vous pouvez lui offrir une tartine (pain et confiture/chocolat) et/ou un biberon. Si vous sortez avec elle, la poussette est
dans le couloir en bas et il y a des langes dans le sac a dos dedans. On vous conseille vivement de porter un biberon et aussi des galettes de riz avec vous a chaque sortie.
18.30 Elle prend son dîner. Il y a du poisson dans le frigo. Aussi des carottes et des pommes de terre. Il y a aussi des groseilles pour dessert et un biscuit.
On va telephoner vers 19.15 pour lui (et vous!) souhaiter une bonne nuit.
19.30/20.00 Elle prend son bain. Normalement elle aime bien son bain mais en ce moment elle est un peu nerveuse. Elle
adore se laver les dents et s’assessoir sur son petit pot. On lui met un lange et son pyjama et on la met dans son sac a couchage. On lui donne son chien-chien et on la porte dans la chambre où elle dort. On lui lit un histoire et on lui donne un biberon.
Normalement (!) elle est contente d’aller au lit et elle dort la nuit.
Dimanche
vers 7.30 Elle va se reveiller. Elle prend un biberon. Pour son petit dejeuner, elle prend du muesli ou, si elle veut pas, vous pouvez essayez des Rice Krispies. Des fois elle aime un peu du toast. On la change et habille que apres son petit
dejeuner. Si vous sortez avec elle le matin on vous conseille vivement de porter un biberon avec vous et aussi des
galettes de riz.
12.00/12.30 Elle prend son dejeuner. Il y a des saucisses dans le frigo et elle aime normalement des haricots verts et les pommes de terre. On a acheté aussi des saucisses pour vous, donc vous pouvez manger ensemble, si vous voulez…
12.30/13.00 Elle va dormir dans son sac a couchage avec son chien-chien. On la change avant.
vers 15.30/16.00 Elle va se reveiller. Elle doit etre changée. Vous pouvez lui offrir une tartine (pain et confiture/chocolat) et/ou un biberon.
vers 18.00 (notre train arrive a 17.20) Nous rentrons et vous etes libre! Merci beaucoup!
Si jamais il faut nous contacter, vous avez notre numero portable. Si vous avez besoin de contacter quelqu’un a Bxls, vous pouvez appeller nos amis sur le numero qu’on vous laisse.
Comments
lauren35
on 13 May 2005 at 20:36
Is the princess allowed a variation on the confiture/chocolat – maybe miel?
jackdalton
on 13 May 2005 at 20:45
(
Comment Modified) Much healthier in the long term too…
NorahSplog
on 14 May 2005 at 14:31
Oooh Waffle please blog in French more often. It makes me feel all smug when I understand one word in three.
Minkleberry
on 14 May 2005 at 18:54
I’m with you Norah. Don’t speak a word of it, but can understand a bit!
belgianwaffle
on 15 May 2005 at 20:28
JD, terrifying. JD, Lauren, miel is on the shopping list for next week, am suitably impressed by your arguments. Norah, Minks, I don’t mean to cast anyone down here but it is MY French which is, um, far from perfect…
beachhutman
on 16 May 2005 at 18:54
In my experience it is precisely when parents are at the zenith of the trip that child decides not to eat any of the food pre-ordained. I once had to drive back overnight to UK from Turin because ours had decied ONLY M and S babyfood was non-poisonous.
Apt
High spec enclosures, plastic, GRP Aluminium & Stainless IP67 EEx’e’
What my blog advertised after reading about morning wrestling with toddler.
Comments
Bobble
on 15 May 2005 at 23:16
Mine seems to be constantly advertising Pope Benedict bracelets… nice.Glad to see you are still here and well Waffly.
jackdalton
on 16 May 2005 at 00:09
(
Comment Modified) Waf: So you’ve never had a rabbit-hole moment on the net? Lucky old you….. Be nice.. she’s new to all this.
Bobs: hello! Good to see you are still around here too… 🙂
Bobble
on 16 May 2005 at 16:23
And you Jack.
I do lurk occasionally but mostly can’t blog during the day now at work…
belgianwaffle
on 16 May 2005 at 20:21
Bobble, lovely to see you – I’m sure a Pope Benedict bracelet would be delightful.
JD, er, no.
jackdalton
on 17 May 2005 at 14:55
And I suppose you’re going to tell me next that you never read Alice in Wonderland or saw The Matrix either?
Come on ‘waf… you’re just being too clingy and unadventurous. Must be the voitures…
