For five minutes there on Sunday, all was sweetness and light. Mother-in-law had taken the Princess for a walk, Mr. Waffle was at the supermarket collecting essential supplies, father-in-law was running up a mountain and the boys were asleep. Then they woke up and we haven’t stopped since. The Princess has acquired a miserable cold and is spreading snot and gloom about the house. And we need to recruit our energies, we’re still recovering from the considerable trauma of flying with three children. A vignette: picture me running back to the plane with Daniel strapped to my chest while Mr. Waffle comforts herself and minds Michael. Guess who left doggy on the plane? You will be relieved to hear that I found him. As we left the airport, my loving spouse pointed out that we would have to do this every week for the next three weeks. We are psychologically preparing ourselves for Saturday’s flight to Cork.
Despite exhaustion, it is nice to be in Dublin with its extensive babysitting facilities. The in-laws are being very virtuous. I have forgiven my father-in-law for saying “Michael is the man for me, he’s very alert but the other fella, he may have his virtues, but to me he’s just a blob”.
The publishing exec jetted back to her family home from exotic London, looked at me and exclaimed in horror “My God, you look exhausted”. She continued in this vein for some time and then noticing my expression amended “Exhausted but, er, really well”. The pub exec is hovering on the brink of promotion whereupon she hopes to do more literary fiction. At the moment she is stuck in the slough of celebrity biographies and TV tie-ins. I suspect publishing may be the only field of endeavour where people would rather deal with less famous people. I foresee a falling off in the quality of her gossip.
I have taken to breastfeeding the boys in public (well, the presence of my parents-in-law) with a muslin square draped over my person for decency. You may assess the success of this from photos to be posted after Christmas (possibly).
So that I could ensure continued breastfeeding and a certain amount of socialising, I brought my breast pump from Brussels. Imagine my chagrin when I realised that I had forgotten one of the six component parts without which it is useless. Oh bitterness. I was recounting my woes on a visit to my friend D who is the mother of a very sweet 8 month old baby. Before we had children, we spoke of other things but now we only speak of baby related stuff or as D pointed out, we may start on other subjects but we are always distracted by fascinating things like breast pumps. And is it not fortunate that this is the case? Yes indeed, because of this and the stranglehold which the Avent corporation has on the breastpump market, she was able to lend me the relevant bit of breastpump from her spare one. The publishing exec asked in some horror whether this was the kind of thing you can share. What can I say, when you’ve breastfed twins in public, sharing bits of breastpumps is really not a problem.
on 21 December 2005 at 15:46
Sweetie(s) given ���
on 21 December 2005 at 19:29
I’m a Medela electric woman all the way. All that handpumping gives me rsi.
Sweetie(s) given ���
Friar Tuck
on 22 December 2005 at 16:13
on 22 December 2005 at 18:53
Sweetie(s) given ���
on 25 December 2005 at 21:30
As ever, I’m in utter admiration of your stamina. Very Merry Christmas to you and all your family – I hope the princess makes a speedy recovery and that you’re enjoying a couple of hours off x
Sweetie(s) given ���
on 31 December 2005 at 23:25
Sweetie(s) given ���
on 09 January 2006 at 10:23
Sweetie(s) given ���
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