I sent out some CVs. Yes, really, I’m as surprised as you are. I will be even more surprised if they yield results as, to be honest, the jobs are not really in my area of expertise, but it’s a start.
In other news. Poor Princess is ill again. She seems to have picked up a stomach bug at the creche. Alas. However, at the moment she is bashing things in the play pen and seems none the worse for wear. I fear that things may deteriorate as the day goes on. I’ll keep you posted. I’m sure that those of you related to her are interested in my daughter’s stomach bug, the rest of you can skip future bulletins…
Had a very quiet weekend. Saturday night we stayed in. My sister gave us two DVDs for Christmas, assuming that our social life has hit rock bottom and that we need all the indoor entertainment we can get. In this assumption, she is entirely correct. We watched “28 Days Later”.? I’m not sure that I would recommend this to the discerning viewer. Firstly, it’s kind of hard to follow (and, I’m sure, not just for the sleep deprived like myself). Secondly, I couldn’t see it properly cos I left my glasses down in the car and I was too lazy to go and get them (I appreciate that this might not be a negative point for the film especially, but I thought that I’d mention it anyway). Thirdly it’s a bit scary. Not very scary, but a bit. Mr. Waffle and I are easily scared so we watched a lot of the film with our heads stuffed down the back of the sofa and cushions over ears. This was kind of embarassing, because it’s not very scary really. It also made it difficult for us to follow. So even if the lead character went to Pres?(alma mater of the men in my family, not Mr. Waffle obviously as he’s from Dublin, do try to keep up), I am not convinced. Sorry sis.
We went to a party on Sunday afternoon. For some time now, I’ve noticed that I’m becoming my mother. This party made me realise that we are becoming our parents. The place was full of thirty and forty somethings with their offspring ranging in age from 10 years old to 6 weeks old. The adults stood around chatting while the children hared up and down the stairs. This is just the kind of thing my parents used to drag me to. Of course, I intend to stop taking the Princess before she turns 14 and tells me that she hates me and doesn’t ever want to come to a party with me again. Good intentions, hmm, but really, I know I’ll be saying “Come on now, you might enjoy it, there’ll be lots of nice boys there who you’ll enjoy meeting”. Worse, I’ll believe it.
on 14 January 2004 at 13:00
Would like to work part-time so that I could bond with the Princess a bit but am applying for full-time jobs on the basis that I can persuade them to let me go part-time once I start. Optimistic, I know, but let me hold on to my illusions.
on 15 January 2004 at 02:15
True with the application form – took me an age to fill out as well. Erm….about 6 months actually. No wonder I didn’t finish that CV….
Good luck with it anyway.
on 19 January 2004 at 14:19
on 20 January 2004 at 02:39
Optimism – a crazy idea…but it just might work! 😉
on 21 January 2004 at 00:08
on 21 January 2004 at 15:34
Sleeping, CVing, Skiing
Last night we let our baby cry. Twice. It was tragic. We rescued her from her cot the other three times, so doubtless, we are giving mixed messages and she will never learn. I am steeling myself for more of this tonight otherwise we’ll still be getting up 6 times a night and patting her on the back when she turns 18. Or so says Gina. Gina is bitter about her own mother who never ensured that she got to bed on time. Gina has been a poor sleeper all her adult life as a result. So she says. Mr. Waffle points out that her choice of nursing as a profession may not have helped much either.
In other news. My displacement activity level has reached herculean proportions. Our Princess is going to the creche a couple of hours a day so that I can concentrate on looking for a job. We have been back in Belgium three days and not one CV has winged its way to a prospective employer. On Tuesday, I had no car and it was pouring rain. Our creche is spectacularly inconveniently located and is really too far to walk. Particularly in a downpour, so the Princess stayed home and no CVs were sent. On Wednesday, I decided to find milk for Mr. Waffle. He likes fresh, pasturised milk and it is hard to find in Belgium. I went to our regular supermarket first. Mr. Waffle had checked it out the previous day and said there was none. I was convinced he had looked in the wrong place and went back to check. I am becoming my mother. I know this. Mr. Waffle was correct. There was no milk. I went to another two supermarkets still looking for milk. I bought a small number of purchases in each (thus ensuring that I stood in three seperate queues) and, you will be delighted to hear, in the third supermarket I visited one of these purchases included milk. This took two and a half hours and what with the creche being so spectacularly inconveniently located, it was time to collect Princess Waffle and no CVs were sent. Today, was the second last day of an exhibition for which I bought tickets before Christmas. If I don’t go today, I will never go, I said to myself. I went today. It has been extended until the end of January. Were any CVs sent out today? Go on, have a guess.
So for tomorrow’s displacement activity, I have lined up a series of tasks. Most of them involve skiing preparation. When this skiing trip was mooted, I thought “fantastic, I will be so cool and trendy bringing my baby skiing, it’s going to be marvellous”. Now, I think, “are you mad woman?? Eight hours in a train with a ten month old?” And back. And furthermore, my friend (hmm what name will I give her? she has Welsh connections, perhaps Blodwyn but then on the other hand, I am anxious that she speak to me again, we will settle on Rosie, as she is English) Rosie whom I visited today expressed the view that it is probably too late to book creche places at the resort now. This is very alarming. Rosie is, perhaps, a smidgeon more organised than I am. Her son has just started school and she tells me he is to finish at 3.30 every day next week. Although there is no documentation to that effect. She worries her legal training has made her over meticulous, her first thought was “How can I believe it if it’s not on paper?”. Anyway, she has scared the bejaysus out of me and I am going to ring the resort tomorrow. That could take a couple of hours. If there is no creche place, there will be much unhappiness chez Waffle.
Am off to bed to stare at the ceiling and listen to piteous cries from my baby daughter.
Sleeping
At the airport yesterday we met a woman whose 7 month old baby has been sleeping through the night since she was seven weeks old. Last night the Princess woke at 10.30, 1.30, 3.30, 5.00, 6.00 and, definitively, at 8.45. Something will have to be done. Mr. Waffle has bought a Gina Ford book on how to get our baby to sleep.? If you follow the link above and read the reviews, you will see that opinions on Ms. Ford’s methods vary greatly. Mr. Waffle is keen to try Ms. Ford’s suggestions but I am a little reluctant. Controlled crying sounds terrifying. Over Christmas a neighbour described how her grown up daughter tried this on her son. The baby cried in his cot for 15 minutes while she cried outside his door. This would be me.
In other news, I am sure that you are dying to hear how the wedding on January 1 went. Very well. It didn’t rain and there were no photographs on the beach for the bridesmaids. In fact the bride, who is as kind as she is beautiful, did go out to have some photos taken but told us that there was no need for us to join her. I have to say, the bride did look spectacularly beautiful. The bridesmaids didn’t look bad either although some foolish person tactlessly described them as the world’s oldest. This was probably true although, as you can imagine, it didn’t go down spectacularly well. One of my fellow bridesmaids was a mother of three (I said we were old) and when she heard that our baby still doesn’t sleep through the night she said and I quote “You feckin eejit”. These third time mothers are very heartless.
Wedding was awash with doctors and medical types of all kinds (bride is a heart surgeon and her father is also a surgeon and her new husband is a medical student). I spent the day concealing the fact that I trained as a solicitor. Doctors are not fond of lawyers. I was doing very well until somebody cornered me and said loudly “I don’t know how you could defend someone who you knew was guilty”. Suddenly I was surrounded by people muttering darkly. I didn’t know where to begin my defence, the following sprang to mind –
I never really did any criminal law,
For the past number of years I haven’t practised – I’m clean,
You’ve known me since I was 12, couldn’t we have explored this at a different time (this for the bride’s mother),
Or, most bravely, I think you have misunderstood how defending criminal cases works.
I opted for –
Did you know that one of the other bridesmaids is starting law school in the autumn? I think you should talk to her. It may not be too late to save her.
on 08 January 2004 at 23:18
Getting Religion
Took Princess Waffle to mass today. For the godless, today is the feast of the holy family so it was very appropriate. We felt like pillars of the community. The priest referred to Princess Waffle from the pulpit saying how wonderful it was that she clapped along to the choir. We were very proud and hung around outside to tell other members of the congregation that she is very advanced for her age. This is, in fact, the second time that Princess Waffle has been referred to from the pulpit but since last time the priest was slightly irate that she was roaring and interrupting his sermon, I would prefer not to dwell on that.
And in other news, my sister flew back to Chicago today after a brief week in Ireland. Americans don’t really believe in Christmas holidays and she had to beg and plead for the week off. She may have to give up her job in the US and come home so’s she can have decent holidays, but not, I hope, before I have had a chance to stay in her new apartment. Only slightly deterred by the thought of flying 9 hours with Princess Waffle.
on 29 December 2003 at 01:24
Your brave, I would never have the bottle to show family my weblog, in fact I would be really worried if they found it! So even if she doesnt like it, you deserve a medal for bravery!
No return
I spent 52 euros on stamps for Christmas cards the other day. We have sent too many Christmas cards. So far, we have received 6. I’m not complaining. No, really. I’m sure that when we get back to Brussels after Christmas we will have 50 odd Christmas cards waiting for us.? What do you do with 50 Christmas cards in January?
My friend the glamourous potter called around yesterday. She has a baby 6 weeks older than Waffle. Her baby crawls round the place like mad and I am torn between admiration and horror (will Waffle do this? how will I manage when she can move?). Glam potter is going to be a regular feature here as she is by far the most exotic person I know. To start with she’s a potter. I mean, how many potters do you know? Then, she used to get driven to school in an open top sports car. In Antigua. That’s enough for starters.
I am busy adding to my favourite blogs bit. I am adding Locotes cos we Cork people should stick together and so on. Also can get regular updates on Cork things. Fantastic, unmissable. Also adding JoJo, cos she said that my baby was sweet. Oh yes, I am very easy to buy. Thank you JoJo. Finally I’m adding this Iranian gentleman because, let’s face it, an informal look inside the corridors of power in Iran is kind of unusual. I particularly like the picture of him as a young boy. Very odd. If you check it out today, you will see that he is pleased about the capture of Saddam. No surprises there then.
on 17 December 2003 at 18:03
Well thank you very much. Urm…my Cork update for today is that the SHARE feens are out in force…at least 3 of them every 10 meters…diving at me from all angles…it’s impossible to get anywhere without being assaulted, surely that must be illegal?
A 20six tip for you, if you ever feel the need to reply or abuse a comment someone has left on your blog, it’s perfectly fine to enter a comment of your own in the entry – can be easier than mentioning their comment in your next post. But of course everyone has their own style. I’ll stop rambling now. 🙂
[anonymous]
on 18 December 2003 at 16:52
Nurofen
Gosh, I am really taken with this. As you can imagine, not a lot has happened since mid-day (although I have got two comments – v. exciting, thank you kind commenters). I have also changed the colours on the site to look girly. Oh the thrill. Will there be the option of Christmas backgrounds, I wonder?
You will be delighted to hear that my crabby baby has been restored to health and happiness. This is due to consumption of infant nurofen. I will tell you how I got this because I feel that I should perhaps seek to entertain and this is mildly entertaining.
This year has been a bit of a wedding marathon for me and my beloved husband. With our new baby we have travelled to 6 weddings. That’s a lot of weddings with a small baby. Mr. Waffle churlishly points out that the weddings are designed to be in locations which are expensive and inconvenient to get to.
At one of our weddings our baby got sick. This was the first time our baby was sick and we were traumatised. Mr. Waffle stayed in the hotel bedroom comforting our unhappy tot and I went off to find a doctor. Thus I committed my first social solecism as a mother. You see, I knew that the bride’s mother was a GP. So I hoved up to a sister of the bride and explained my difficulty. Bride’s sister was a tower of strength and rounded up her mother who instantly agreed to examine baby. She brought with her a friend, an American doctor who was a guest at the wedding. So up we went to the room and all four of us trooped in, me, my friend, her mother and the American lady. Poor spouse had not realised my search would bring such instantaneous results and he was pacing up and down in his boxer shorts with roaring baby. Oh dear. Mother of the bride picked up our precious baby by the scruff of her babygrow whereupon she (baby) instantly stopped crying and heaved a sigh of relief. A brief examination and the doctors decided that nothing was wrong except perhaps a slight temperature. Had we any Calpol? No. Any nurofen? No. A thermometer? Alas, no. Doctor shook her head at our ineptitude and thrust a box of baby nurofen upon us. And how useful it has been. Can I recommend this as an investment to all parents of small babies. Particularly if you are going to move to Belgium because all you can get here is baby suppositories and I assure you that babies do not like these.
And, excitement, here is a picture of baby waffle. Please admire.
