Conversation with the doctor:
Him: They’ll need two booster shots on the meningitis….
Daniel: Scream, scream, scream.
Michael: Scream, scream, scream.
Princess (at top of voice): Stop screaming Daniel and Michael.
Me: Sorry, I didn’t catch that.
Him: Has the Princess had a meningitis shot?
Me: No [I’d remember, it’s 68 euros per shot – they’ll each need 3 shots; the doctor charges 40 euros per child per visit so that makes it approx 660 euros for the twins; I think I’d have remembered even half
that expenditure for her Highness].
Him: No, it has been developed since she was a baby.
Me: Actually my brother works for the pharmaceutical company that developed it; I like to think that I am contibuting my mite to his bonus.
Daniel: Scream, scream, scream.
Michael: Scream, scream, scream.
Princess: TALK TO ME!
Him: I’m afraid that I didn’t quite catch that.
Further entertainment was provided by a broken lift which meant that I had to carry Michael and Daniel up and down the stairs while getting herself to join us by powers of persuasion rather than brute force. Needless to say we only discovered the lift was broken by squeezing into it and waiting in vain for it to move. Did I mention that I forgot to bring the boys’ nappy bag? Oh happy morning. Oh yeah and that it snowed on us on the way back to the car.
When we arrived home, it was to discover that the boys had fallen asleep in the car. The Princess instantly remedied this by screaming in their ears. Fab.
on 06 March 2006 at 16:27
How you keep your hands off of them I don’t know. I shall be a very bad mother.
on 06 March 2006 at 22:27
Kristin, how comforting.
Bobble, and who says I keep my hands off them? In fact, these days, I seem to spend half my time physically wrenching herself off her brothers.
The Old Ones Are the Best
A man in a hot air balloon over the Belgian countryside realised he was lost. He reduced altitude and spotted a woman below. Descending a bit more he shouted, “Excuse me, can you help? I promised a friend I would meet him an hour ago but I don’t know where I am”. The woman replied, “You’re in a hot air balloon, approximately 30 feet above the ground, between 40/41 degrees latitude, north, and 59/60 degrees west, longitude”. You must be a middle-grade Commission Official”, said the balloonist. “I am”, replied the woman, “I’m a Grade A*8. How did you know?”
“Well”, answered the balloonist, “everything you told me is technically correct but I have no idea what to make of your information and the fact is, I am still lost. Frankly, you’ve not been much help at all. If
anything, you have delayed my trip.”
The woman below responded, “You must be a Senior Commission Official”. “I am,” replied the balloonist, “But how did you know?”
“Well,” replied the woman, “you don’t know where you are or where you are going. You have risen to where you are due to a large quantity of hot air. You made a promise which you have no idea how to keep, and you expect people beneath you to solve your problem. The fact is you are in exactly the same position you were in before we met, but now, somehow, it’s my fault”
Perils of Parenthood
We sat into the car the other day and the Princess said to me, ““I’Â’m sorry, hon, but I just did a wee in my car seat”.”
Comments
UndercoverCookie on 07 March 2006 at 11:58
oh that is sweet and er, yuck all at the same time.
poggle
on 07 March 2006 at 12:15
She is absolutely priceless. Hon.
(Homepage)
on 07 March 2006 at 13:42
Where did you FIND her?
a href=”http://www.20six.co.uk/pog”>poggle
on 07 March 2006 at 13:58
Now there’s a question ….
on 07 March 2006 at 20:11
Ezra has taken to calling me by my first name with exactly the same condascending tone that his dad uses. It’s eery.
loadofoldtosh2
on 08 March 2006 at 09:23
Caption: In training!
belgianwaffle
on 08 March 2006 at 22:53
Loot, are you Jimi? I’m impressed that he can say Minkleberry, particularly in that tone of voice.
Thank you, I think, UC, pog, Kristin.
a href=”http://www.20six.co.uk/loadofoldtosh2″>loadofoldtosh2
on 09 March 2006 at 08:45
(picks a pale Jimi up off the floor) nope am not Jimi; the giveaway being that I was out of the country for a bit whilst Jimi was looking after a heavily pregnant Minks.
Fiat Lux
The lightbulb blew in the kitchen the other day. I spent most of the day wondering whether I would get a chance to stand on a chair and change it before darkness fell. I’Â’m a busy woman, I can tell you. Not too busy to blog, obviously.
poggle
on 08 March 2006 at 15:22
I have just failed miserably in the change a lightbulb stakes. After having successfully removed the poncy little downlighter bulb (by dint of much swearing, a cut finger and injudicious use of a screwdriver to prise the damn thing out), I then spent a good five minutes trying to work out where the little prongs plug in in the fitting. Does it work now? Does it buggery.<
kristin
(Homepage)
on 08 March 2006 at 18:20
the lightbulb in my closet has been out for a month. i’ve been choosing my outfits by feel.
Lilo
on 08 March 2006 at 20:46
When lightbulbs go chez lilo, it is usually my job to change them. Sometimes, for amusement, I wonder how long it will take for my H to stand on a chair and change them.
belgianwaffle
on 08 March 2006 at 22:54
Lilo, waiting in the dark, I assume. Kristin, excellent. Pog, I am most disappointed, I think of you as alarmingly handy (and now grey haired as well).SSC, worry not, I am just the bees knees.
poggle
on 09 March 2006 at 10:30
I am usually alarmingly handy, I must confess (she says completely immodestly) – but the little downlighter has defeated me. I plan to call in the electrician, who will wiggle his eyebrows and do that snort-down-the-nose-at-the-little-woman thing. Pah. And as I and lovely-temp-girl nipped out for ‘just the one’ after work, we both failed miserably in the covering up the grey hairs stakes last night. (If bonkers boss mentions it again today, he is toast ….)
Friar Tuck
on 09 March 2006 at 16:49
How many waffles does it take to change a light bulb?
poggle
on 09 March 2006 at 17:49
*glowers at FT*
Lilo
on 10 March 2006 at 20:36
Spot on. Actually, both the kitchen and sitting room are lit by 4 spotlights. It usually takes 2 of the lightbulbs to go before any action is taken (unless I do it, of course).
belgianwaffle
on 12 March 2006 at 21:08
FT, har. Pog, thank you for glowering, am relieved to hear of confirmation of handiness. Lilo, we’re down to one of 3 spotlights in the hall. Shortly, we’ll be going to bed in pitch darkness.
Fame!
For most of the next week I will be here. You are free to guess whether this is because:
a) The Bulletin magazine did an extensive trawl through potential expat bloggers based in Brussels and selected me to do a weekÂ’s guest blogging on the basis of my entertaining writing and penetrating insights; or
b) I know the lifestyle editor of the Bulletin.
If I am feeling energetic, I will also post my entries here. I may even meta-blog and talk about the challenge of thinking up material for the Bulletin. YouÂ’’d enjoy that.
Comments
chintzybling
on 09 March 2006 at 13:00
Well done by the way!
poggle
on 09 March 2006 at 13:06
Gosh – fame!
expat in california
on 09 March 2006 at 16:44
After reading your blog for the last year and thinking “I wonder who’ll play the Princess in the movie version?” – your big break is imminent! Congrats and keep it up – I am hooked on the adventures of the Waffles!
Friar Tuck
on 09 March 2006 at 16:54
I suppose you won’t be associating with the likes of us anymore, not now that you’re famous and all.
belgianwaffle
on 12 March 2006 at 21:07
Thank you Chintzy. Um, yeah, pog, you lived here, the Bulletin? Hello Expat lurker, thank you, are you Irish, just curious. That’s right FT, when is your blog going live?
poggle
on 13 March 2006 at 09:00
I didn’t live there, waffley – just visited a few times when the FFF was working over there …
belgianwaffle
on 14 March 2006 at 09:05
Well, pog, I think all the same, you probably know what the Bulletin is like…
poggle
on 14 March 2006 at 09:09
I probably do, waffley – I’ve lived outside the UK quite a lot and I don’t think those expat papers vary much ..
They Love Me
The intro – I’m going for warm and humourous here.
Mrs. Waffle is a harassed mother of three small children [one two year old and five month old twins] who is based in Belgium and has been writing a blog for a number of years. Allegations that she got this gig by attending an ante natal course with the lifestyle editor [and his wife and Mr. Waffle, she hastens to add] are not entirely unfounded. Though I am sure that you would agree with her that having a baby is going to extreme lengths to get an appearance on the website of a magazine, however illustrious, especially when
one realises that she could just have emailed and asked.
The text (something Belgian related as requested):
Fitting In
I have spent more time in Belgium than many of my fellow ex-pats. My parents, for their own obscure and possibly nefarious reason, took us to Heverlee for a weekÂ’’s camping every summer for many years. My father took us to see the Plan Incliné (a wonder of Belgian engineering – and what little girl wouldnÂ’’t like to see a large lock? Oh, stop sniggering). I shopped with my mother in city2 when it was a sparkling new shopping centre. I worked here from 1993-1995, 1998-2000 and returned here in 2003. Belgium is the country where all my children are born. Mind you, they are not little Belgians; it takes a lot more than just being born here to be a Belgian. I think however, the high point of my integration into Belgian society occurred last week.
I was wandering around trying to manoeuvre my double buggy into the shops at Porte de Namur. I was hindered, not just by the dimensions of the buggy but by the fact that it appeared to set off security alarms in the shops; truly I am blessed. I was perhaps a little crabby with the pleasant man in a scarf who approached me with an outstretched hand. ““Hello,”” he said. ““Whatever it is, IÂ’m not buying it”,” I thought crossly. ““Remember me? I’Â’m the waiter from the Rose Blanche“”. And then, I did remember him, he looked a bit different in his civvies, but he had made the Rose Blanche our regular stopping point in the Grand Place.
Like all foreigners, we used to go to the Roy d’Espagne but despite the presence of high chairs, the place is horribly child hostile (if you are childless, you might like to make a mental note of its suitability for you). The waiters hate you, your buggy and your offspring and make no effort to hide it. The Rose Blanche is an altogether more sophisticated and less draughty establishment boasting no high chairs and a large open fire. You might, therefore, be forgiven for thinking that children would not be particularly welcome, but you would be wrong. The staff there are lovely. This particular waiter once gave the Princess seven pieces of chocolate (you know, the piece of chocolate that is your statutory right with every cup of tea served in Belgium) which she promptly stuffed into her mouth before her horrified mother could relieve her of them – but his intentions were undoubtedly good and earned him a disgusting chocolatey smile from herself.
Anyway when this waiter finished cooing over the boys and saying he hoped to see them soon in the café, he took himself off leaving me feeling all warm and fuzzy towards the Belgians. Yes, they love me, of course I fit in, they’d be lost without meÂ….
Comments
poggle
on 10 March 2006 at 09:29
And was madam running up the curtains after all that chocolate? My nephew used to go doolally after much less than that.
beachhutman
on 12 March 2006 at 00:20
Never mind the CURTAINS.
But the danger – for sure – is that they’ll grow up believing chips need mayo.
{WHAT? There are other Belgian traditions? Nah}
belgianwaffle
on 12 March 2006 at 21:11
Thank you Bobble. Pog, yes. BHM, at a birthday party at McDos this am (too hideous to speak about) chips were served with mayo and ketchup. Felt you should know.
