Daniel and his hurling team took part in a competition and there was a photo of them in the club newsletter and a write up of the match. A colleague of mine is in the same club and I showed him the article. “Oh yes,” he said, “that’s a great competition and they won it.” “Oh no, I think they came second,” I said. He was surprised but said no more and admired the photo. I came home and told Daniel, “I showed the article to my colleague who’s a very good hurler and he was very impressed even if you guys didn’t win.” An outraged Daniel replied, “But we did win!” I should probably have read the article.
Boys
The Tooth Fairy Hovers on the Edge of Bankruptcy
Daniel has lost a lot of teeth recently. Who knew that 11 was a big age for losing baby teeth?
11
The boys turned 11 on September 27.
My parents were 49 years married.
Google turned 18.
There was a lot going on. Stay tuned for a birthday update on my 11 year olds.
Tough Crowd
Me (happily): Michael is going to have a boiled egg for lunch. This is all down to you miss, if you hadn’t encouraged him to have one he might never have started back on eggs. This will be your legacy!
Herself: Fantastic, other people have leadership, world peace and so on as their legacy and mine will be getting Michael to eat eggs.
Me: No, no, you are bringing domestic bliss to the world. Not to be underrated.
Her: Oh don’t go all Beth on me. The chirping of the cricket in the hearth that isn’t noticed until it is gone, is it?
To the Lighthouse
A couple of years ago, we took the children on a walk out to Poolbeg lighthouse. It was a bit far and they were tired and cranky. They’ve remembered it as a low point ever since. As the pigeon house towers which are a bit of a Dublin landmark and can be seen from all over the city dominate the walk, they were regularly reminded of it and each time they saw the towers, they said, never again.
One Sunday lunch time, we found ourselves wondering what to do on a sunny afternoon. Various suggestions were put forward – Botanic Gardens, play on the x-box – but none was finding favour with the group. I found my eye drawn to Daniel’s t-shirt, a present from his grandfather featuring a notable Dublin landmark. “NO!” he said, clutching his chest. Like a Mexican wave of fear, the children around the table started shouting “NO” while their father looked on bewildered and their mother became hysterical with laughter.
Mr. Waffle and I overcame all resistance and took them off to the Lighthouse. They were amazed how short the walk seemed; they were a lot smaller last time. It was even, they conceded, not the worst outing ever.
Happy Anniversary
Mr. Waffle and I celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary on Thursday, July 28. As we got married before having children and when Mr. Waffle was in a different line of work, that was, then, a relatively quiet time of year. Now the children are on holidays; it is one of Mr. Waffle’s busiest times of the year and we go on our family holiday immediately after.
This year has been particularly difficult as for the last number of years, I have been able to take unpaid leave over the summer but it wasn’t possible this year. We kept our childminder on for the afternoons and signed the children up to a couple of courses and Mr. Waffle took up the slack. It was all a bit stressful. Unfortunately, herself was ill for almost all her course and the week before the boys were due to go on their course I got this plaintive email from my husband.
To: Me
From: Mr. Waffle
Subject: Re: All well at home?To my horror got a call from the sports camp I thought the boys were doing a course next week but apparently it’s this week. Will have to see if they’re willing to go for the last three days and if [childminder] can do afternoons. Also means we have no course for anybody next week…
In other words, it’s a busy time and we almost, but not quite, forget our anniversary every year. We tend to remember a day or two before when it is too late to do anything but scramble for a not entirely adequate present. For example, the internet tells me that crystal is the appropriate offering for a 15th wedding anniversary; I got Mr. Waffle a book and he got me flowers [very welcome flowers, I hasten to add].
Happily, this year, our firstborn surprised us and when we came home from work, the table looked like this:
She made us risotto for dinner with help from Daniel and Victoria sponge for desert and it was amazing.
Also, I still love my husband, which is great. He sends me funny emails. Samples below:
From: Mr. Waffle
To: Me
Subject: Signs and portentsMy laptop is being weird and currently refuses to open any files or programs.
Also five slugs in utility room / by back door.
I think I’ll call it a day.
From: Mr. Waffle
To: Me
Subject: What is the best Irish term for Brexit?Sasamach? Bréalú?
I understand someone else came up with these terms but I am always glad to be consulted on matters of national importance.
A couple of weeks ago, the cat brought another pigeon into the house. This time it was not dead. Mr. Waffle grabbed the pigeon from the cat; trapped the cat in the utility room and chased the pigeon around the kitchen (I asked Herself about it – “It was terrible, the pigeon fell in my soup”. Terrible on so many levels). Eventually he was able to usher the pigeon out of the kitchen into the hall while the cat continued to scream blue murder in the utility room. Mr. Waffle said that the pigeon was somewhat dazed but it picked itself up and waddled along the hall and out the front door, somewhat to the bemusement of passers by.
On Saturday evening he rescued the cat from up a tree where she was chased by three small yappy dogs who have moved in across the road. We are not loving them. Mr. Waffle, however, is fantastic.
The other evening I was trying to print off the childminder’s payslip and the printer wouldn’t work. Michael sidled up to me; “Sorry,” he said, “but I think I broke the printer.” “How do you think you broke the printer?” I asked. “I dropped 10 cents down the paper feeder,” he said. I shook it and I turned it up and down but to no avail. “I’m not cross,” I said, “but how did you drop 10 cents into the printer?” Apparently he had been practising coin flips and it had just escaped away from him. After the last unfortunate demise of a printer, my clever husband had taken out a guarantee. €12 well spent. We now have another new printer. I think love is in the details.
Think of us having another delightful anniversary dinner in France. After all, 15 years is definitely worth celebrating.
