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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Leaving on a Jet Plane
Yes, indeed we are off to Ireland for Christmas this afternoon with our mountain of luggage, as yet unpacked. As it happens, I do know when I’Â’ll be back again. We will return to the kingdom of the Belgians on January 4 and I expect updates, if any, to be few and far between until then. Pause here to laugh cruelly at the duration of American holidays as opposed to European ones.
In the interim, I wish you all a very happy Christmas and leave you with a Christmas photo. Note the look of fear on the boysÂ’ faces.
Comments
poggle
on 17 December 2005 at 10:06
Note the evil smile on the face of the Princess … oooh dear.
kristin (Homepage) on 17 December 2005 at 12:17 I agree with pog — not only the fear on the boys’ face, but the gleeful mischievousness on the princess. have lovely hols, waffley.
Friar Tuck
on 17 December 2005 at 16:21
They do have that “deer in the headlights” look about them.
Lilo
on 18 December 2005 at 11:32
I think your boys look like they’re trying to keep very, very still.
Happy Christmas Ms Waffle x
jackdalton
on 18 December 2005 at 18:12
‘Now if I just knock these together…’ thought Princess. But then she realised there was a camera present. So she smiled her big smile and waited for a better, less camera-prone moment.
🙂
Have a Happy Christmas, ‘waf and co.
Minkleberry
on 19 December 2005 at 07:37
Those pregnancy hormones have really kicked in. This piccie’s got me wailing. So adoreable!
Bobble
on 21 December 2005 at 11:07
Have a fabulous natale all of you – hope my card arrived?!
belgianwaffle
on 09 January 2006 at 10:20
Thank you all very much – have been poor at replying to comments recently but all is now restored to normal…
School
The school boasts a big advantage for us – it’s round the corner from where we live. The Head, however, describes it as “socially mixed” and my middle class soul was a little nervous about this. Of course, I felt bad about feeling nervous and Mr. Waffle, who seems to suffer from none of the usual middle class hang-ups despite having attended fee paying private schools, said bracingly, “What would happen if everyone refused to send their children to socially mixed schools?”  Today, I discovered that one of the consequences of being “socially mixed” is that a lot of the children don’t speak French. The teacher was delighted to discover that madam a) spoke French and b) was toilet trained.  I must say, all of this unnerved me a bit but a lot of the children who don’t speak French are Polish and I found this comforting because I sort of see the Poles as like the Irish; catholic, committed to education etc., no NOT feckless.
Anyway, she’s only 2 and a half, how much of a problem can it be that half of her classmates can’t speak French? But my heart sank as we were leaving and I saw the teacher put on
“Finding Nemo”. Â Somehow it seems wrong, but, you know, good for crowd control.
kristin
(Homepage)
on 15 December 2005 at 16:51
I completely sympathize with your m-c soul and the fear of Finding Nemo. Remember, at this age it’s all socialization (btw, was nemo in french or english?) and even if it’s learning to hang out with poles and watch movies, that’s not such a bad thing to know at 2.5. and she’ll be trilingual in no time. and can i say wow about the potty training? lucy is just 3, and so ready to move on to the next class at preschool, except that she’s got to be potty trained, and she’s resisting peeing at school. sigh.
clever princess, starting school. kisses to her.
Peggy
(Homepage)
on 16 December 2005 at 10:00
You don’t mention anywhere: what was the Princess’ reaction ? Is she thrilled she will soon be going to school? Did she want to stay and watch the film with the others?
on 16 December 2005 at 11:07
FT, indeed.
Kristin, thank you, that makes me feel a lot better. Am sure your toilet training blues will pass shortly though I realise it is a pain at the moment. Nemo was in French, by the way.
Peggy, that was the worst bit, she loathed it and was like a briar for the rest of the day. I think she was slightly overwhelmed by the numbers and she said to me afterwards “That’s not my school Mummy, my school is different”. I’m not sure what she was expecting but it’s fair to say that her expectations weren’t met.
For example, last night the Princess sought vainly for my attention as I tried to simultaneously cook dinner and express 200mls of breastmilk (I know 200 mls, amazing eh?). ? Standing under a hot shower in the morning can lead to me spraying the walls with milk in a sort of sub-Psycho fashion (a little too much information?).
Last night, having fed the boys all evening at about 1.00 in the morning, I prodded my poor spouse awake and said “give Michael a bottle, I can’t stand it any more”.Â
At 5.00, I woke up and having fed the babies, trotted out to the kitchen to take meat out of the freezer for dinner (which I had forgotten to do last night, no, this is not a regular feature of my
nights). Â On opening the fridge, I found that the expressed bottle of breast milk was still there, which meant that Mr. Waffle had, all gasp please, given Michael formula earlier in the evening.
Since my husband had disappeared from the marital bed, I had a look round the house for him to discuss this serious matter. Found him on the couch looking up the phone book for the number of a local bookshop. He wanted to order a Princess Waffle memorial book for the creche. I had to have out the matter of expressed milk v formula so I was only momentarily distracted by the weirdness of his timing.
Me: You gave Michael FORMULA.
Him: Eh?
Me: When you gave him the bottle.
Him: Oh right.
Me: But there was expressed milk in the fridge.
Him: Sorry, missed it.
Me (purple in the face with indignation): What?
Him: Are we really arguing about this at 5.00 in the morning?
Both collapse in mildly hysterical giggles as oddness of my behaviour becomes apparent.
A little tired today…
on 14 December 2005 at 09:59
“Standing under a hot shower in the morning can lead to me spraying the walls with milk in a sort of sub-Psycho fashion”on 14 December 2005 at 12:19
I’m still overwhelmed with admiration at your ability to feed two new(ish) and hungry babies.At 5am I was ignoring my big child as he whimpered for attention in his bedroom, whilst simultaneously avoiding eye-contact with the cot that is now sharing our bedroom.
Incidentally, me and Jimi have some of our best rows in the wee hours.
Peggy
(Homepage)
on 14 December 2005 at 13:14
I’m very impressed by the happy ending of your story.I think I would have poured the expressed milk in the bottle of coffee that Jim takes to work everyday.
on 14 December 2005 at 16:51
Ummm – sleeping?on 14 December 2005 at 21:59
Formula is very GOOD you know…….on 15 December 2005 at 12:27
BhM, formula is the root of all evil, don’t quibble.GPM, very dull..
Peggy, how imaginative you are.
Minks, am awaiting your new arrival with bated breath. Unlike Ez, I suspect.
Bobble, we aim to please.
HJB, 2 sweeties, you are too kind. For this, I can confirm that there are no mad axe men in Switzerland.
Friar Tuck
on 15 December 2005 at 16:28
I can remember a day in the not-so-distant past when a certain someone smugly smirked at me because I must arise at 5.30 every morning. So for the record I would just like to say that at 5.00 this morning I was snug in my bed. {smirk}on 16 December 2005 at 11:08
My agony will end. Smirk.Christening
My sons will be baptised in Cork over Christmas thus ensuring for my mother a lifetime of retrieving ecclesiastical paperwork for her grandchildren.
We’re hoping to be more prepared than we were for the PrincessÂ’’s christening. We didn’Â’t know that you needed a candle. When the crucial moment arrived, I hissed at my aunt, ““You’Â’re very religious, why didn’Â’t you tell us we needed a candle?”” ““I thought you knew”,” she hissed
back. Her highness was christened under a night light retrieved from a side altar. Your baptismal candle is supposed to enjoy further outings at your communion and confirmation. That’Â’s probably why they donÂ’t use night lights. We knew that she needed a white garment alright and proudly produced a white cot blanket. We were somewhat abashed to see that the little overachiever being christened at the same time as the Princess had an elaborate lacy number with her name embroidered on it. It was probably vomit free too.
My religious aunt is to be godmother to Daniel. I phoned her the other day to confirm dates
and times and she told me tartly that she has purchased two christening candles. Now, who will buy lacy garments and embroider their names on them?
on 09 December 2005 at 19:13
Bobble, that’s such a relief- my poor Nanny has been so worried about mine and my sisters’ eternity in limbo.
Friar Tuck
on 09 December 2005 at 19:28
Minkle, only infants get a pass. Unless you are a precocious two year-old, your Nanny should continue worrying, not about Limbo, but worse! But back to the baptismal garment, I know someone who makes their living selling handmade ones. It’s too late for flapjack and pancake, but I can put you in touch for any subsequent progeny.
kristin
(Homepage)
on 09 December 2005 at 23:06
My daughter was christened in a haze of high, high episcopalian incense, and my poor baptist mother still hasn’t recovered. She only stood the christening dress because lucy looked so adorable in it, but once the recitation of the saints started, she looked very pale. the event was particularly memorable because my sister’s hair caught fire from the candle she was holding during the procession to the font. the mom of the other baby who was being baptised that day offered to give us the videotape of kera on fire, for posterity. i think she was just jealous that lucy was such a cutie.
on 14 December 2005 at 09:13
Bob, Minks, MB, aren’t you glad that we have FT to sort these things out for us? FT, start your own blog in the new year or face dire consequences.
Kristin, that’s hilarious, superb story.
BHM, I know, I know.
Turning into my Husband
The other morning I found that Mr. Waffle had drawn a map of the supermarket and indicated
on it where all the items we needed were to be found. I scoffed. I chucked it out.
Then on Saturday morning as I traipsed around the supermarket with Little Ms. Cranky and found that I had forgotten to get garlic in the vegetable section and wipes in the baby bit, I began to wish that I had the supermarket map. What on earth is this happening to me?
