Our evenings are hideous. Mr. Waffle and the Princess arrive home at
about 6.45. This is the cue for both
boys to wake up and be unsettled.
Princess resents their howling. We sit down to dinner at 7.00. Mr. Waffle and I have a baby each. One of us may be administering a bottle, the
other may be breastfeeding. We both try
to eat with one hand. The Princess
scatters food and cutlery and a range of toys on the floor and howls for their
retrieval. I am adept at picking up soft
toys with my feet. In the event that one
of the boys drops off to sleep, the Princess likes to bang the table with her
fork. You will recall that Mr. Waffle
and I are sleep deprived and our tolerance for fork banging is not what it once
was. Often this scene is interrupted by
the telephone ringing or, last night, the doorbell.
Picture the scene, if you will, the Princess is
sitting at the table banging her fork and surrounded by the debris of her
dinner and a number of jigsaw puzzles.
Mr. Waffle is feeding Michael and holding the bottle in place with his
chin while trying to eat with his free hand.
I am breastfeeding Daniel. The
doorbell rings a number of times. I go
to answer it with a baby clutched to my exposed person. It is our neighbours from upstairs, both of
them, come to thank us for minding their cats while they were in Istanbul (they continually taunt us with
their exotic mini-breaks). They had
kindly brought us some Turkish tea from Istanbul, so there I was standing at the
door, a baby clutched to my breast with one hand, tea in the other and making
polite conversation about the Aia Sophia.
Meanwhile in the background, Michael was wailing (having been put down
by his father), and Mr. Waffle was swearing in response to the PrincessÂ’s
ultimate, and successful, bid to gain the attention of her parents which
consisted of announcing “I did a wee in my chair”. The soft drip, drip from her chair onto the rug
confirmed that this was the case. And
still the upstairs neighbours lingered until finally I said “sorry, I’m really
going to have to go”. Note to the
childless, donÂ’t LINGER.
On a separate note,
today, alone with 3 children has been fine so far and they’re ALL
asleep at the moment. This morning we went round to the Glam
Potter’s where we also got lunch (is there no end to the woman’s
virtue?) and now it’s only 4 hours until Mr. Waffle gets home.
Please see below, photo of caravanserai immediately before departure –
of course, we had to drive round the block to come back for the nappy
bag but all in all a very successful outing. I am so proud.
on 11 November 2005 at 14:10
Sweetie(s) given
on 11 November 2005 at 14:47
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i’m just glad mr. waffle swore when the princess wet the chair, because if he hadn’t i would have thot he was a pod-person.
on 11 November 2005 at 15:13
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on 11 November 2005 at 15:26
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on 11 November 2005 at 16:24
[Still reckon you guys are doing an awesome job. Pee and milk and food covered but still an awesome job.]
Sweetie(s) given
on 11 November 2005 at 17:05
The evenings sound horrendous. If only that Gina Ford woman told the truth life would be so much easier.
You make me very happy there’s only one small person brewing in my uterus.
Sweetie(s) given
Friar Tuck
on 11 November 2005 at 18:37
Tell me, does Mr Waffle do his fair share of breastfeeding?
on 11 November 2005 at 19:57
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ladyjane
on 12 November 2005 at 01:16
on 12 November 2005 at 07:35
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on 14 November 2005 at 11:20
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on 15 November 2005 at 10:39
Sweetie(s) given
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