belgianwaffle

Archives for June 2009

Dismal Weekend Summary


Posted in: Cork, Dublin, Ireland

Friday: Was able to observe the democratic process up close in Cork (where my mother was allowed to vote despite failing to produce polling card or identification on the basis that Mr. O’Rourke, who was responsible for ticking her name off the list knew her – didn’t he live aound the corner and didn’t his wife play bridge with my aunt on Tuesdays and where had I been, he hadn’t seen me around in a long time) and Dublin (polling card and ID please).

Saturday: GAA rained off (bizarre and practically unprecedented, the point of the GAA is that you should be wet and miserable). Quick tea with other rained out parents. Princess hysterical at sight of school friend. V. mortifying. Rain continued belting down all day. Deeply unsatisfactory trip to the Chester Beatty museum where the Princess sulked and refused to look at any of the beautiful books. She did, however, watch with interest a DVD on making paper and insist that Mr. Waffle take notes for her to use later. Hired a baby sitter to come to the house that evening (still lashing). Went to a pub to hear comedy only to discover wrong evening. Went to nearby hotel for restorative cup of tea where Slovakian waiter compared Irish weather to April in his country when the weather is always unpredictable. I think that he is missing home.

Sunday: We went to Smithfield horse fair. It’s a monthly horse market in the centre of the city and Mr. Waffle reckons that it will be gone by the time the children have grown up so they should see it. All a bit too authentic really, the horses were sad looking or vicious or both. Men from the ISPCA were roaming the square. We asked a nice young fella holding a small horse, if we could rub it and he said we should find a quieter one. The horse was four years old and it hadn’t got a name. The children were terrified of hooves and I saw one horse foaming at the mouth (hot, rabid, scared of the trap behind? who knows?). We took ourselves off to the quieter environs of Collins Barracks. Much quieter, since the museum didn’t open until 2 and it was now only 12. More cutbacks, I suppose. Home for lunch and afterwards wrestled with the wretched creeper thing which is taking over the garden. Sigh. At least it stopped raining.

School


Posted in: Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Twins, Youngest Child

Michael and Daniel are starting school in September. They will be four on September 27. I hope they are not too young; although children can start school at 4 in Ireland, increasingly the trend seems to be to hold them back until they are 5. A parent I met recently thought that she had sent her son to school too early and he had been 4 the previous March. At the GAA, I was tortured by a man who said that his son had only just turned 4 and he was far, far too young to start school in September and he was putting in another year at pre-school. However, we got their uniforms the other day and they tried them on in complete delight, so I think that we are committed now. Also, I feel Michael is looking forward to having a little less one on one attention from his teacher.

Last week, Mr. Waffle went to a parents’ evening for children who were to start in September and met a college acquaintance from the cumann gaelach. Together they made painstaking conversation as Gaeilge. As the acquaintance went into computers, I’m not sure how that went (our Gaelic ancestors not having had a word for computers).

Mr. Waffle learnt some mildly useful things from the meeting even though our daughter has been in the school for a year. A copy of the disciplinary code was handed around. The principal explained that it was a little out of date but it would give parents an idea of what was expected. One woman asked why her daughter couldn’t have a pony tail. “Ah yes,” explained the principal, “it was drafted when it was a boys only school.”

We also got a photocopy of an Australians study from 1990 on how twins do in school. It reminded me of how remiss I have been in my own research. According to this twins are particularly at risk of language and reading delay if they are identical, if they are boys and if they have a sibling 2-3 years older. Well, at least they are not identical. In light of this I have been considering their speech. Daniel speaks very well and articulates clearly; Michael far less so. [Don’t compare says the study reprovingly.] It is not clear to me whether this is just relative to Daniel or in absolute terms. Ho hum, always something to worry about. On the plus side, the study recommends letting them see their parents enjoying reading – I think that we could probably do that alright.

The study also emphasises that they need to be seen as individuals. I do regard them as two different individuals but the following things are true: they have never spent a night (or more than a small part of any day) apart; when you ask either how old he is, he will reply “we are three”, even when the other is not in the room; if one starts doing something, then the other invariably wants to do it too (although, I’m not sure that this proves anything, it is also true for their sister).

Gasping consumer


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland

According to the Irish Times and RTE news, Tesco are squeezing out Irish suppliers. Barry’s Tea will no longer be readily
available on the shelves. It will be replaced by Tetley and Typhoo. Excellent brands in their way, I am sure, but not for me.

We decided to explore other options for our shopping. At the weekend, Mr. Waffle went to Lidl. I now understand that their employment practices are suspect, so we will not be going back. Further, while Tesco may be cutting back on Irish products, apparently Lidl has none at all. Mr. Waffle said it was like shopping abroad. There was a whole range of alien products and he didn’t know the layout of the supermarket. This impression was enhanced by the fact that the weather was fine and everyone had shed all outer layers in favour of flip flops
and beach wear. Lidl is therefore out.

Other than Tesco and Lidl, we live a fairish way from a supermarket. Should I ignore my principles and starting drinking Typhoo tea? Is that like taking the soup?

A series of unfortunate events


Posted in: Princess

Slightly against my better judgement, I read chapter 1 of “The Bad Beginning” to the Princess last night.

Cravenly, rather than turning out her light, I said that she could read for a little longer and slunk away to the end of the news and my waiting cup of tea. I did not go up to turn off her light and for this I paid dearly. At five to eleven as Dr. House was about to solve the problems of his patients who suffer from narcolepsy (did everyone else know that he was modelled on Sherlock Holmes and Wilson is Watson?) she came into me in tears. She was scared of Count Olaf. I went back upstairs with her and it was well after midnight by the time she got to sleep.

We dragged her from bed this morning. She instantly began reading her book again. We took it away. She was extremely crabby though whether from exhaustion or a foiled desire to know the fate of the Baudelaire orphans is unclear.

In other news, both home doggy and travel doggy are lost.

A-r-t-i-c-u-l-a-t-e


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Middle Child, Twins

Daniel speaks exceptionally clearly and quite loudly. Grown-ups always understand him. This has its drawbacks.

The other day Mr. Waffle met a little old lady who chucked Daniel under the chin. To his father’s mortification, he said to her clearly and reproachfully, “You hurted me.”

Shortly afterwards I was cycling with Daniel in our edgy/urban/ rough (delete as appropriate) neighbourhood and saw two small children (maybe 3 and 18 months) playing on the main road. A quiet main road but certainly a main road. As I toiled up the hill , they fell over together and lay spread out and bawling. I stopped the bike, took Daniel off, went over, took them off the road, dusted them down, made comforting noises and asked, “Where are your Mummy and Daddy?” No very coherent answer was made but shortly a large man came around the corner and grabbed them roughly. I made bleating “no harm done they seem to be fine” type noises. He was joined by his partner. Both of them seemed slightly out of it and they yelled at the children (who ignored them – a constant across socio-economic groups, apparently). At no point did either of them address me. I mounted my trusty steed and peddled slowly off (it was hilly). Daniel, speaking loudly and, of course, clearly said from his perch behind “Mummy those people were very rude, they didn’t answer you when you spoke to them.” I pedalled more quickly.

The Incredders


Posted in: Middle Child, Twins, Youngest Child

We got “The Incredibles” out on DVD. It has made a huge impression on the children. They are now to be known as Violet, Dash and Jack-Jack. I am Elastigirl (though, as Michael kindly pointed out, Elastigirl is really thin unlike me but I can still be Elastigirl because I am his Mummy) and their father is Mr. Incredible. Sometimes we forget and call them by their real names and Michael, in particular, becomes furious. He is also demanding that his diet be further restricted as, in the film, Jack-Jack only eats porridge. In vain do I argue that off-screen Jack-Jack enjoys a healthy and varied diet and that he can eat alone (in the film his mother feeds him). It’s all becoming very tedious and shows no signs of wearing off.

Because Daniel speaks so clearly, I regularly correct him. Michael is far less distinct and as I can’t hear what he’s saying, he is far less subject to maternal corrections. I note that Daniel has decided to address this deficit. I heard Michael say “The Incredders is a vewy good pwogwamme.” Daniel replied firmly: “No, Michael, ‘The Incredibles‘ is a very good programme.” “Yes, a gweat pwogwamme.” “No Michael, not pwogwamme, programme.” “Yes, progwamme.” It’s tough being a twin.