Monday went fine. Tuesday was ok. This morning she was in floods of tears. The problem is that she won’t sleep at school and she’s exhausted. I am collecting her at 12.10 today with a view to
giving her a nice long nap at home. If she does not nap at home,
I will shoot myself. Mr. Waffle is away on a business trip and
not coming back until tomorrow. Blind terror prevails.
Today will also be the first time that I have to collect her with the
boys as on Monday and Tuesday, I had people in to mind them. I am a little concerned that I will not be able to marshall all three of
them home (Princess on foot, Michael in sling and Daniel in buggy) so, despite the fact that the school is only around the corner, I think I might drive to collect her. Farewell, ozone layer. I cannot
tell you how much I am looking forward to trying to get her out the door to school tomorrow (up to now this has been her loving father’s task) with the boys in tow.
Thought I should mention that yesterday I was superwoman. Drove to the creche to drop off a little present and pick up a portrait of the Princess. Went to my place of work and passed the (immensely well behaved) boys to swarms of admirers. Left before they started to cry. Breastfed them both for half an hour in the back of the car while covered by cloth of decency and reading the LRB.
Lunched with Mr. Waffle while saintly Michael slept and I breastfed Daniel. Mercifully, a kind providence had placed us sitting beside two nordic gentlemen so, being Scandinavian and right on, they didn’t bat an eyelid, I’m not even sure that they noticed.
Came home, dropped the boys with G, set out for school, took Princess to the park and for a cup of tea. Came home, relieved G. With the Princess’s assistance, bathed both boys and prepared dinner for Mr. Waffle’s return at 6.45. Promptly collapsed with exhaustion thereafter.
on 11 January 2006 at 10:22
on 11 January 2006 at 10:23
Sweetie(s) given ���
on 11 January 2006 at 14:49
Sweetie(s) given ���
on 11 January 2006 at 23:33
on 12 January 2006 at 08:40
Sweetie(s) given ���
on 12 January 2006 at 09:56
Ta Kristin, GPM, UC and Ms. Splog. Special thanks for the sweeties GPM and Ms. Splog. You are wise to continue to be scared of the week alone GPM..
SSC, yes, I used to love the sandpit myself.
The boys were christened. Rejoice. Mr. Waffle got two blankets from Marks and Spencer to serve as spotless garments. By the time we got to the church, one of them had been trailed in the mud. Alas.
The boys were very virtuous and slept and were therefore left in the hall. In fact the poor mites spent a lot of Christmas sleeping in halls.
As promised earlier, please admire photograph of me breastfeeding twins and maintaining a
semblance of decency. Yes, I know you were all desperate to see that.
The Princess eats eggs. My parents-in-law are the proud possessors of one egg cup. One day it went missing. My mother-in-law said, “Don’t worry, you know what makes a great egg cup? A toilet roll.” She scurried off to the bathroom to get a roll of toilet paper. I said defiantly, “I am not feeding my daughter an egg from a roll of toilet paper.” “But it’s a fresh roll,” she said. The
Princess started to wail. I conceded defeat and gave her the egg from the roll of toilet paper. It works perfectly. I said to my mother-in-law, “I’m almost afraid to ask but how do you know this?” “Well,” she said ”when I was an air hostess in the 60s and we went to New York overnight, you would get a breakfast allowance. We wanted to save the money, so we would buy eggs and boil them in the hotel kettle and eat them from the roll of toilet paper. That woman is determined to ruin my vision of the glamour of the glory days of aviation.
on 09 January 2006 at 11:13
All of life is, in a sense, about one of two blankets trailing in the mud. 😉
Lovely pics: I particularly like the one where Cha is sleeping among the wine bottles…
on 09 January 2006 at 16:07
After drinking all that wine, it is no wonder that they were snockered!
Great pics though. Your breastfeeding pic is even decent enough to be shown in America. It was surely a disappointment to the NSA folks, who, I am sure, have set a filter to find all references to ‘breastfeeding’ passing through the air.
Ha ha. Just kidding. I’m sure they are only looking for terrorists. No, really. I love America. I love G.W. Bush. Please don’t arrest me.
on 09 January 2006 at 16:49
Wow, haven’t they grown! They look smashing :o)
on 10 January 2006 at 21:16
So THATs how you breastfeed two – I’ve always wondered – they’re very accommodating little chaps aren’t they?
on 11 January 2006 at 10:03
Lilo, yup, they are what is known as “good babies”.
Friar Tuck, where have you gone? Why are you wearing an orange jump suit?
on 11 January 2006 at 20:15
I love Friar Tuck. Perhaps this is the wrong thing to be saying about a man of the cloth and all that jazz and I may be going straight to hell, but I shall quote him come the day of being judged….
on 12 January 2006 at 01:54
you definitely are a wonderwoman! i have enough trouble breastfeeding one!!!!
on 12 January 2006 at 09:52
HJB, quite. I think he should start his own blog..
Ali, forget breast feeding, am deeply indebted to you for the info that Angelina Jolie is pregnant.
I now realise that I, in fact, know all of my readers personally. Father-in-law’s brother (the Princess’s great uncle, try to keep up) appeared with his wife and grandson on new year’s day and quoted me at me. There is a further amusing incident but I have been sworn to secrecy and despite what you might think, I am capable of keeping secrets from the internet.
I began to realise that I have already told all my best stories on the internet. I would start into something and be told oh I read that on your blog and, most annoyingly, when producing fresh, unblogged material, oh I can just see that on your blog. Despite this I have to tell you a bit about flying with three children under three and two adults. Pictured below is the luggage which we hauled from Brussels to Dublin to Cork and back to Dublin again. To that please add five people.
When we approached the check-in desk, people backed away except for the odd person who would try to help. And, without wishing to sound unduly churlish, its often a lot easier to manage yourself. You know what needs to be checked in or not and your two year old is not so scared of you that she bursts into tears when you approach. Once checked in, all hands still full, we would make for the gate. All airlines seem to have a policy of boarding people with reduced mobility and small children first. You would
think, therefore, that people might know that, but no, we had to blast our way to the front of the queue using our three month old babies as weapons and letting the two year old off at really determined queuers. Yeah, I know, I sound like the kind of person I used to hate before having children of my own. These things are never so bad when you’re doing them yourself.
To get to the plane we had to walk down steps carrying two babies in car seats, one folded buggy, one nappy bag and one ratty toddler. As we lumbered across to the plane we would inevitably be overtaken by keen travellers walking briskly and snorting. Since we were holding a twin each, the Princess had to ascend to planes on her own and those steps are steep. When we arrived on the plane, we and our numerous progeny would have to wait while the keen travellers stored their luggage. On finally reaching our seats we were (once) displaced by Ryanair telling us we had to sit behind row 6. Once ensconced in our seats on either side of the aisle (there are only 4 oxygen masks on each row of three seats, so we have to split up), there is inevitably a baby poo and a Princess saying I want to do a wee. This was particularly awkward on the Dublin to Cork flight where time in the air is negligible and during the 10 minutes the toilets could be used, they were filled with lads who had spent the morning refreshing themselves at the bar and were faster off the mark than we were. Though I doubt whether they were more
On arrival at our destination airport, we would take over the handicapped toilet/changing station for about half an hour and see to all the children’s toilet needs. I hope that that wasn’t a desperate wheelchair
user banging on the door. I know that there was a wheelchair user on the flight from Brussels to Dublin, because the Aer Lingus hostess announced reproachfully that we were taking off late because a wheel chair user had not checked his wheelchair and taken an airport chair to the gate. What was wrong with the usual excuse due to the late arrival of the incoming aircraft etc.?
I digress. By the time we got to the luggage hall, after our lengthy toilet stop, there would no longer be any indication of which belt our luggage would be arriving on and we would wander the luggage hall hopefully looking for our 8 items of checked baggage. On reclaiming our luggage, we would fall into
a people carrier taxi and weep from exhaustion all the way to our destination.
And finally, on the blog Christmas theme, I got a lovely Christmas card from Bobble. How thrilling. Her card is a beautiful photograph that she took of a tree covered with snow in golden light. I’m sure she really appreciated my La Poste offering with penguins and intends to keep it and frame it also.
on 09 January 2006 at 16:32
i laugh at your paltry mountain of luggage. when i was in college, my family moved from Boston to Stockholm, and we spent a fair amount of time taking in the sights of greater europe. Imagine: three teenage girls. Two week trip. 15 pieces of luggage.
Tho we, of course, moved under our own steam, and were weaned.
As usual, i am amazed at your fortitude.
on 10 January 2006 at 19:47
By the way I am VERY impressed with your ability to get from A to B involving a plane journey and with 3 young children in tow, I nearly have a nervous breakdown helping my fabulous grandmother to travel by plane.
I remember one incident where she told me very gruffly as we were leaving the house to go to the airport “Of course I have my passport!” Only to tell me at check in (after queuing for 2 hours) “Where’s my passport? Oh it’s in my drawer at home dear” ARGH! (I now look after all travel documents, bless her! ;o)
on 11 January 2006 at 10:01
Diva, that’s really sweet. It made me feel my age though because instead of thinking, I wish that I could do that for my grandmothers (difficult they are both dead), I thought “I hope that I have a granddaughter like that some day”. Most alarming.
on 11 January 2006 at 15:19
on 11 January 2006 at 20:11
The majority of my readers probably feel very fortunate that they don’t know me personally.
on 12 January 2006 at 09:47
On St Stephens day, we ventured up to the Lough where the Princess fed the ravenous birds and it was bitterly cold. The only other people out were some French people. It was quite weird to be at the Lough (which is very Cork) and to have most of the people there speaking French. Mr. Waffle and
the Princess tried to strike up a conversation with the mother and child on the swing beside them but were coldly ignored.
Some of my best friends are French etc. etc. but it is nice to have your prejudices confirmed from time to time.
Later that day, Mr. Waffle and the Princess ran into another group of French people, quite extraordinary. Down in Fitzgeralds park the next day, Mr. Waffle and the Princess met a little girl from Cork and her father also from Cork. Mr. Waffle wondered what they made of him and the Princess chatting away in French. Then the little girl’s mother arrived and started chatting to her daughter in Swedish. And finally, when I went to the park, I met a man from Slovakia and his son. At this stage we were past being surprised. I can tell you, there was none of this carry on when I was a child.
on 07 January 2006 at 20:18
Blimey, Cork has become a veritable Babel. We have none of that nonsense in my hometown, Deo gratias.
on 07 January 2006 at 23:30
Yep. Amazing what can change in twenty or thirty or forty years… 😐
on 08 January 2006 at 01:22
Good lord, i don’t care what language you speak as long as you’re back. Missed you, Waffley!!
on 08 January 2006 at 08:50
I have missed both you and Friar Tuck. Lovely to see you back.
on 09 January 2006 at 10:26
40 Jack??? HJB, yes have just realised that instead of having his own blog he is squatting on mine. Might ask him to blogsit next time I go away and get my money’s worth. Thank you all for welcome back noises.
on 09 January 2006 at 16:15
I make no apologies for knowing how to work the system. Blogsitting affords all the fun with none of the responsibility.
on 09 January 2006 at 23:24
Assuming we all live that long, of course…..
Also I couldn’t be allowed to blogsit on account of tendencies towards irresponsibility.
And besides the ship is sinking.
on 11 January 2006 at 10:00
FT, you’ll be sorry.
JD, yes, the ship does appear to be sinking, am gutted. Are you going to come back, rat?