This week is mid-term. Who knows whether I will be able to blog any more or not? Just me and the three small children at home. To save my sanity there will be a treat at the end of the week. Mr. Waffle is taking a half day on Friday and we are driving to the Hague where the lovely Dutch Mama and her family will be welcoming us for the weekend.
Last time we went there, the Princess vomited on everything all the time and theyÂ’’re still having us back. How kind and brave. Frankly, itÂ’’s as well that this treat is in store because on the following Monday night, Mr. Waffle is off in the neighbouring Grand Duchy for work and my children and I will be spending our first night alone together in a while.
By the by, for those of you following the sleeping drama, it took the boys an hour to cry themselves to sleep last night but I’m past caring. Myself and Mr. Waffle sat on the sofa and callously turned up the volume on Jamie’s school dinners subtitled in French, while our poor baby boys howled piteously for their parents. They had the last laugh, however, and got us up from midnight to one, three to four, and four thirty to seven fifteen.
The Princess rose at 7.30 and told us solemnly that she was “not very sick, but a little bit sick”. This would appear to be an accurate diagnosis, so no leaving the house for me then. [Manic cackle echoes round the blog].
Comments
Oh lord – stir crazy already!
I like UC’s idea. After all we are always trying to teach our children about sharing. Can’t you share your children around all your neighbours for the week?
I hope you realize that you are ruining my fantasies about the unmitigated bliss of conjugal life!
I love it when the Friar talks dirty …
please try to keep on blogging 🙂
UC, GPM, yes it is a great idea…thanks fo r the sweetie GPM, I really needed it yesterday.
Pog, stir crazy doesn’t begin to describe it.
FT, pog, quite.
Negrito, blogging is the only thing that keeps me sane. I can now blog with a baby on my lap while reciting nursery rhymes to a toddler. Two awake babies is a killer though..
Princesses v. Pirates
We attended L’s third birthday party yesterday. The invitees were encouraged to come in their carnival outfits. There were eight little girls in attendance. We had seven fairy princesses and one pirate. I regret to inform you that I was not the mother of the pirate.
on 27 February 2006 at 13:01
Sorry, I meant why, thank you. Not why thank you? 
0
Sweetie(s) given
Pass Remarkable
My daughter is chatty. I like that. Unfortunately, her ability to talk considerably exceeds her knowledge of socially appropriate behaviour. We visited friends at the weekend and she said to me, loudly and clearly, a propos of their two year old I’m nicer than her. We all laughed and the poor mite knew that she had said something wrong and went pink in the face and asked “Was I bold, Mummy?”.
The other day in the car, we saw a woman on the pavement with weird hair and we had a little chat about her odd hair. I seized the opportunity to say that we could have this chat in the car where the lady couldn’t hear us, but that it would be rude to have this conversation where she could overhear us (Mr. Waffle challenges the ethics of this, but tough). She knitted her brow and mulled this over. Later we went for a cup of tea and
one of the men sitting behind us got up and left his coat over the chair. The Princess said “Look Mummy, he has gone and left his coat and his friend behind.” Pause. “Oh, I shouldn’t say that out loud. I should whisper it to you.”
poggle
on 21 February 2006 at 10:49
And me.I love her earnestness.
Friar Tuck
on 21 February 2006 at 16:23
She catches on quickly. She’ll go far in life.
kristin (Homepage)
on 22 February 2006 at 18:10
she is so precocious. bless her concerned little heart.
Norah
(Homepage)
on 22 February 2006 at 18:47
I am so terrified of having a girl. I’m not good with girls. I like your posts about the princess because it makes me realise that having a girl would be just fine too.
belgianwaffle
on 27 February 2006 at 13:00
Dmts, pog, this is what we love about you.
FT, dunno.
Kristin, thanks.
Norah, you’d be fabulous with a boy or a girl. Lucky little Splog sprog.
Ouch
Me (to Mr. Waffle): Nothing’s broken but the doctor says that she has a subcutaneous hematoma.
Him: Is that what you and I would call a bruise?
Peggy
(Homepage)
on 16 February 2006 at 10:04
Now I see where the Princess gets her wit from.
Bobble
on 16 February 2006 at 14:57
They’d say that on CSI:NY for sure.
Minkleberry
on 16 February 2006 at 16:32
and Holby.
belgianwaffle
on 21 February 2006 at 09:00
Yes, yes, all very dramatic. Peggy, that would be from ME!
Cross-Purposes
Princess: I made a mask for Carnaval.
Mr. Waffle: Did you? What colour is it?
Princess: Lots of colours. And it has feathers.
Mr. Waffle: Where do feathers come from? Do they come from fish?
Princess (in some puzzlement): No, they come from Madame Marie.
Bobble
on 15 February 2006 at 21:32
She’s astute alright. God I miss Carnevale, I could do with a fritelle and vin caldo around now.
href=”http://www.20six.co.uk/beachhutman”>beachhutman
on 15 February 2006 at 23:09
Of COURSE they do! Silly Mr Waffle. Tutt.
belgianwaffle
on 16 February 2006 at 08:36
Bobble, Carnival is a bit different in Belgium. See http://www.carnavaldebinche.be/
A Reading from the Book of Job
“Does not man have hard service on earth? Are not his days like those of a hired man? Like a slave longing for the evening shadows, or a hired man waiting eagerly for his wages, so I have been allotted months of futility, and nights of misery have been assigned to me. When I lie down I think, ‘How long before I get
up? The night drags on, and I toss till dawn.’
Job had twins, who knew? Yes, I know I am very lucky. Really. But last night I was at my wits’ end. Poor old
Daniel has a cold and he howled. And he woke Michael and when he got back to sleep, Michael woke him. And I didn’t sleep at all. And nor did my poor husband. And today I am like a zombie and I have two cross babies on my hands and one sick one. And school ends at 3.00.
And in other religious news, my daughter is fascinated by the story of Samson and Delilah. For this, I hold Tom Jones entirely responsible. Our poor daughter is subjected to a barrage of schlocky songs sung by her loving parents. If she bumps herself she sings “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m sorry that I made you cry, I
didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m just a jealous guy..”. When dancing she accompanies herself with “I’m in the mood for dancing, romancing…”. When wearing her boots “These boots are made for
walking…are you ready boots?” You get the picture here. When she wails, I try to jolly her out of it by singing “Aie, aie, aie Delilah”. They love it in the supermarket. Anyhow, the other day, she asked me “What’s Delilah, Mummy?”. “Not what darling, who?” And I told her the story, leaving out about Samson being blinded (she is only 2 and 3/4) but including how he brought down a building with his bare hands and crushed his enemies. God, she loves it and I am exhausted from recounting it. I shudder to think what will happen when she finds out about the plagues visited on the Eygptians.
Bobble
on 13 February 2006 at 14:48
There is something about being Irish and religion, a TV programme, can’t quite remember it at present…
Anyway, showing such an interest can only make you feel less guilty about sending princess to Sunday School and the free hours you will gain from it.
Friar Tuck
on 14 February 2006 at 03:59
Good thing the story of Susanna isn’t read on Sundays!
geepeemum
on 14 February 2006 at 10:07
We were reading Samson and Delilah to our 2 the other day, albeit a slightly sanitised version, and I said to my other half – “So is Samson the prototype suicide bomber and should we really be reading this to our children?” Not sure what messages it sends really!
Kate_Sith
on 15 February 2006 at 09:48
Murrain! Frogs! er… the Darkness! The plagues ROCK.
belgianwaffle
on 15 February 2006 at 12:54
Gosh, you lot are a bundle of joy. Bobble, you should know, catholics don’t do Sunday school. That’s protestants, they actually know their bible.
