home about favouritesarchives

Archive for January, 2006


31 January, 2006 at 1:47 pm by belgianwaffle

Princess: A freshly squeezed orange juice.
We put in our order and wait and wait.
Me: Where is that waitress with our order?
Princess: She’s coming, patience Mummy.
Waitress arrives.
Princess: See, I was right.
Me: Yes dear, how is your orange juice?
She continues sipping and turns her chubby hand from side to side in mid air (meaning medium).
Me: What’s wrong with it?
Her (sotto voce): I don’t think it’s freshly squeezed, Mummy.
I tried it, it wasn’t.

Friar Tuckon 31 January 2006 at 16:49

Well, it had to be freshly squeezed at some point in time. Did you specify that you wanted it freshly squeezed today? ���

belgianwaffleon 04 February 2006 at 10:17

Mike, you are entering into the spirit of the thing, FT you are not. And as an American, I would expect you to care about service standards. You spent too long in Rome.

Customer Service

30 January, 2006 at 12:40 pm by belgianwaffle

It was just as well that Sunday’s outing passed off peacefully because on Saturday we had an absolutely hideous trip to a tea shop.  We all went out and bought the Princess a new anorak. We bought a ski jacket on the basis that it would be warm and maybe we might all go skiing next year (oh stop sniggering). It is pink.  After one afternoon’s wear, it was filthy. An excellent investment, clearly.

After the success of the anorak, we decided to go for tea and a bun. A dreadful mistake, we went to this place on Rue du Bailli where the food and decor are lovely and the staff are vile.  And really, that’s ok, if it’s just two adults, but two adults and three small children? It’s a disaster. Mr. Waffle (with Michael strapped to him on the sling) and the Princess
ascended the steep stairs (which I had forgotten) to the tea
room. I tried and failed to get Daniel up the steps in the
buggy.  The woman from behind the counter gave a deep sigh and marched around, I assusmed to help me, but no to bang shut the door I had left ajar. I concede that it was freezing, but I was distracted. Another staff member came and told me that the buggy was in the way. I tried despairingly to get up the steps again, but they were just too steep. Mr. Waffle came down to help me (Michael still in sling) leaving the Princess precariously sitting on a chair minding a table. The staff snorted as we, relatively briefly, blocked the staircase. We all sat down. The boys were as good as gold, as was the Princess.  The staff continued nasty, they disliked our paraphenalia. It’s hard to blame them, I suppose, but they were so rude and unpleasant, that I was more than willing to try. I ordered a milk shake and asked for a small glass so that I could pour some of it in there for the Princess. “We have no small glasses”. “Well, maybe a mug.” More snorting.  The waitress decided that she would ignore that particular bizarre request. Lovely.  I think that you will get the flavour of the unpleasant spirit that animates the establishment when I
tell you that on their blackboard, they had emblazoned in large letters “No second spoons with ice cream/deserts”. It was all a bit grim but our little Princess sat smiling, eating her ice cream and saying to her frazzled parents “We’re having a lovely time, aren’t we?”

Divaon 30 January 2006 at 22:08

Good Lord, how mean about the spoons! Little princess made me smile with her innocent comment about the lovely time, bless her heart, she obviously enjoyed it and will remember it with a smile and a warm feeling :o)

UndercoverCookieon 31 January 2006 at 10:14

maybe you’d have to ask for a second fork? Or perhaps romantic couples could just eat the ice cream off each other. There are always ways around these rules.

poggleon 31 January 2006 at 12:19

I bet The Princess was taking notes for future reference – and revenge.
And Mrs Affable – gah. Still, at least it wasn’t a drumkit, ay?

cha0ticon 31 January 2006 at 19:50

Retaliate. Penny whistle for Mrs Affables child 🙂

Daddy’sLittleDemonon 01 February 2006 at 13:39

Jesus, that’s so Belgian

belgianwaffleon 04 February 2006 at 10:21

NS, I know. Diva, you’re a big softy. UC, this relationship is doing all kinds of odd things to you. Pog, I certainly hope so. Cha0ic, she’s expecting twins in May, I’m holding my fire for when she’s at her weakest. DLD, to be fair, this has not been my experience elsewhere.

Divaon 05 February 2006 at 17:06

If she’s anything like I was at her age, little memories like that will still make her smile when she’s a big ol’ hard backed woman of 36 ;o) And yes, I know, I AM a big old softy! LOL!

Bobbleon 05 February 2006 at 23:54

It’s the law, you must get second spoons. Staff like that must be made to a summer at Camp America, oh yes.

Nemesis the Avenger

27 January, 2006 at 8:55 am by belgianwaffle

A letter from my father:

“I was amused (not quite the right word) by your account of your troubles with people parking outside your garage today.   I remember your mother’’s story.  She found a car parked outside the gate when she wanted to go somewhere.  There had been a few similar episodes, and she lost her temper and telephoned the guards.  They sent a guard to investigate.

It appeared the car was registered to a woman in mid-Cork, some distance away, and she was telephoned and told to remove the obstruction.  The car was being driven by her daughter, who had business in [town], but she (the daughter) could not be found, so the registered owner had to make the trip into [our] road and remove the obstruction.  Revenge, satisfaction, removal of an obstacle… all very well, if one was not acquainted with the culprit.”

It’s gym, but not as we know it

26 January, 2006 at 8:14 am by belgianwaffle

In other news, the Princess skipped off early to school today for gym (or pyschomotricité as it is known in the language of diplomacy and romance, you might note that it may not be spelt that way). She has no idea what it is, but she is all excited, I hope that she is not in for a bitter disappointment.

on 26 January 2006 at 09:49
Bet the plumber was hoping you’d still be in bed… breastfeeding one or two babies.
Ok, I’m out of here.

Friar Tuck
on 26 January 2006 at 16:23
Maybe you could give the plumber one of yours as payment. After all, you could always make another. A win-win situation if there ever was one.

on 26 January 2006 at 19:37
but tell us about the new fridge! is it nice? and pyschomotricite indeed. good lord. quite a step up from Circle Time.

on 27 January 2006 at 09:12

Hello CACOchyme, encore un Belge, the excitement. In fact, I was very pleased with the plumber and frankly half an hour late isn’t really very late but he did cost me, sharp intake of breath, 142 euros.
Peggy, hmmm, you go and stand with pog in the coin colere.
FT, would have been insufficient to defray substantial costs.
Oh yes, Kristin, no circle time for us, humph. Fridge is fab and much bigger than last one. Mr. W. says it’s just a fridge. Pah.

25 January, 2006 at 1:41 pm by belgianwaffle

Madam’s teacher told me that she (the Princess) was a genius and miles
ahead of the other children (see, proof that hothousing works) and that
really she should go to the next class up but she wasn’t quite mature
enough.� However, she suggested that our immature genius should
spend a morning a week in the next class up and I basked in her
reflected glory.

When we got out the snow had, alas, got heavier.� The Princess was
beside herself with delight and ran around sticking out her tongue to
catch snowflakes.� While normally I would be charmed by this
behaviour, I was anxious to get home quickly before Michael got
hypothermia (Daniel was safely wrapped in blankets and a rain sheet in
the buggy).� I harried her along with middling success.�
About half way home she said “Mummy, I want to do a wee”.� “Can
you wait until we get home?”� Really I don’t know why I bothered
to ask.� Of course not.� We crouched down between two cars,
exposing the imperial bottom to the snow and also wetting the hem of
the imperial trousers, but better than the alternative, I
suppose.� Unfortunately, while crouching, I crushed Michael’s legs
(you will recall that he was in the sling) and he did not like this and
proceeded to bellow in indignation all the rest of the way home.�
The Princess blithely� ignored his protests and dawdled along.

By the time we finally got into the building, Michael had worked
himself into a state of near apoplexy.�� I put saintly,
sleeping Daniel in the lift and turned to the Princess and asked her to
get in.� I could barely hear her reply above Michael’s indignant
roars but I gathered from her hunched shoulders and the fact that she
was still sitting on the stairs that it was in the negative. �
Apparently she wanted to walk up the stairs.� I pointed out that I
could neither carry both boys up the stairs nor abandon them in the
hall.� “I bet you can” she said sulkily.� A protracted
negotiation session followed, Michael bawling the while and eventually
she consented to get into the lift.

At lunch she tasted and then rejected the following foods:� smoked
salmon, chicken, foie gras (stocks replenished and I know it’s
sub-optimal for the under 3s but I was desperate).� She eventually
consented to have “a little pasta with olive oil, Mummy”� and has
finally just gone for her nap.� Daniel still sleeps and Michael is
attached to me as I type but mercifully looking somnolent.� I
think that I will have a restorative cup of tea.


on 25 January 2006 at 14:03

You are a hero. And I’m slightly scared of the Princess’ wisdom. 0
Sweetie(s) given ���


on 25 January 2006 at 14:25

Would you like to adopt me because I’d love a little bit of foie gras or smoked salmon for lunch. I promise to get in the lift and not to pee in the street. 1
Sweetie(s) given ���



on 25 January 2006 at 15:22

Oh dear, Waffley, have i told you recently how much i adore you? and the terribly clever princess, as well, of course. and the boys, crushed legs and all. Good luck achieving that cup of tea before another country is heard from. ���


on 26 January 2006 at 14:23

Careful. H is going to pee in the lift. 0
Sweetie(s) given ���


on 27 January 2006 at 09:10

You are kind newshoes and 2 sweeties to boot.
Aw, thanks Chintzy, you’d be even more scared of her, if you saw her dancing on the bed.
HJB, I’m tempted, and, no, pog, I’m sure she won’t pee in the lift, look she gave me a sweetie, nice Heather.
Kristin, ooh, it’s great to be popular on line if not in line at the school gates. Ta. 0
Sweetie(s) given ���


on 05 February 2006 at 23:59

Marvellous. It makes me appreciate my last years of having no children all the more. You rock. 0
Sweetie(s) given ���


An Introduction to Social Injustice

25 January, 2006 at 8:44 am by belgianwaffle

When we were down town, we saw a woman and her daughter begging. The Princess wanted to know why they were sitting on the pavement and I said that they were poor and begging for money. I explained that not everybody was as lucky as us with a nice house and plenty of food to eat and nice clothes and toys. The Princess was fascinated. On the tram on the way home, she kept pointing at people and saying, very distinctly (and accurately), ““I think he’’s poor Mummy”.” Then she said to me, ““Mummy, you know, there are a lot of poor people at my school”. I
see social death approaching.

Mind you, it’’s not like I’’ve made friends with a lot of the mothers and fathers. I keep smiling in a hopeful way but they keep ignoring me. Yesterday, this woman was collecting her daughter who is in the Princess’s class. She has twin boys! Who are four months old! What a coincidence, would you like to chat about all the things we and our daughters have in common? Apparently not. She cut me dead and continued talking to her friends. I was crushed and reduced to thinking bad things about her poor dental work. Also she made having twins and a toddler look very easy and we all know that it is extremely difficult and I am fantastic to be
coping so well. Humph.



on 25 January 2006 at 11:53
She was probably being rude because she looks at you and wonders how she could ever in her wildest dreams cope as well as you do; clearly you make her feel inferior! (As indeed you should, given that she is a very rude lady)
Sweetie(s) given



on 25 January 2006 at 12:53
I agree with Geepeemum. And she might also think that you are another one of those rich expats.
Most important is that the Princess makes friends in her school.


on 25 January 2006 at 12:54
Don’t be crushed, ‘waf. People who do that sort of thing eventuually get what’s due…. silly old billy old cow.
[Her. Not you.]
Sweetie(s) given


on 27 January 2006 at 09:06
Pog, am sure you are right. Oooh, I like that GPM. Peggy, rich expats are people too. Sniff. Still no friends though. I suppose it has only been a fortnight.
JD, am glad you clarified that. 0
Sweetie(s) given

Sleep Patterns

24 January, 2006 at 10:05 am by belgianwaffle

Update: Met Mr. Waffle for lunch, he says that he hopes, over time, to reach a point where he can hold up his little finger and Daniel will instantly fall asleep.


Friar Tuck

on 24 January 2006 at 15:39
You forgot to mention that Mr. W. soaks his finger in rum.


on 25 January 2006 at 08:37
Good old Daniel-thats some magic finger. 0
Sweetie(s) given


on 25 January 2006 at 08:51
I know people (though not about the rum FT), fingers crossed and all that. Another full night for young Daniel last night. 0
Sweetie(s) given


on 25 January 2006 at 18:58
Hurrah! 0
Sweetie(s) given


on 27 January 2006 at 09:07
I know, Bobble, and four days later, he’s still at it. 0
Sweetie(s) given

23 January, 2006 at 9:06 am by belgianwaffle

In an effort to persuade the Princess to give Cinderella a little time off, we have
been doing some work with Snow White.

Me: But Snow White wasn’t really dead, it was just that the poisoned apple had stuck in
her throat. When the handsome prince
kissed her, he dislodged the piece of apple and Snow White woke up.

Mr. W (sotto voce): That’’s some kiss.

Friar Tuck

on 23 January 2006 at 16:55

That prince had high aspirations. ���


on 23 January 2006 at 20:43

Just harmless musing… Still, makes a fella wonder… 0
Sweetie(s) given ���


on 25 January 2006 at 08:50

OK, you lot, clean it up. 0
Sweetie(s) given ���


on 25 January 2006 at 15:21

Sorry Ms Waf …
*sniggers* 0
Sweetie(s) given ���


on 27 January 2006 at 09:07

Front of the classroom, pog, where I can keep my eye on you.. 0
Sweetie(s) given ���


on 27 January 2006 at 09:27

Am I bovvered? 0
Sweetie(s) given ���


on 31 January 2006 at 14:09

And stop chewing that revolting gum. 0
Sweetie(s) given ���


Minus a Buggy, Plus a Hat

22 January, 2006 at 2:48 pm by belgianwaffle

Is it any wonder with all this sleep deprivation, that I left the Princess’s buggy behind me at the tram stop this morning? She was a bit distressed but I reassured her that it would be there when we got back. My faith was misplaced. Who the hell takes a 20 euro supermarket buggy from the tram stop? Fortunately, she is not old
enough to be embarrassed by her mother inquiring in neighbouring cafes whether anyone had handed in a buggy. No, nobody had.

However, to restore your faith in human nature, let me tell you the following heart-warming tale. Outside the church we go to, there is a group of regular beggars. The Princess and I have built up a special relationship with one of the beggars, a very nice man, who is always very sweet to our girl. This morning, it was perishing and I had forgotten to bring along a hat for her highness. Our friend was very concerned about this and insisted on giving her his hat. I was against this for a range of reasons, some of them worthy (the poor man will be frozen, we have lots of hats at home, we can afford more hats), some of them distinctly less so (where has that hat been and what is the bizarre smell?). However, my attempts at refusal were scuppered by madam who clutched it in her little hand and clamped it on her head. He says that we can give it back to him next week. You will be relieved to know that he confirms that he has another hat at home.



on 22 January 2006 at 18:13
i sympathize deeply with the cosleeping. we have recently given up on bedtime, as such, because after 3 years, one thing we have learned is that the child will not sleep according to any schedule of our making. the new schedule involves lettting her drop off in a parental bed, where she sleeps like a lamb for 8 hours. yes, it only took us 3 years to just give in.


on 22 January 2006 at 22:38
Alas, it was a seven years stretch in our case. Ultimately disasterous. Get them BACK in that cot! 0
Sweetie(s) given

Friar Tuck

on 22 January 2006 at 23:56
I am imagining a hatless beggar pushing a pram full of his belongings around Bxls.


on 23 January 2006 at 01:55
I just came across your blog today and you got it going! How you manage so well with 3! I only have one whose sick at the moment and can’t imagine what it must be like.
You’re little ones are too cute!


on 23 January 2006 at 09:14
Kristin, BHM, I see you give conflicting advice, but I feel that there is something in what the BHM says.
FT, well, yes..
Berry, you are kind, I’d rather have 3 well ones than one sick one,hope that your mite is feeling better. 0
Sweetie(s) given

on 23 January 2006 at 14:37
Indeed! Hope you had a better night last night chuck.


on 23 January 2006 at 19:54
Jimi has taken to swearing in a lullaby voice when Seth snuffles awake in the wee hours. I find it oddly comforting and it sends me right off to sleep.
I wonder the damage to the poor boys psyche..


on 25 January 2006 at 08:50
Thanks Jojo. Minks, I LOVE that!

Growing Boys

20 January, 2006 at 1:38 pm by belgianwaffle

Did you know that twins suck each other’s thumbs? Or noses, or shoulders, or whatever happens to be in range.  They weigh nearly12 kilos between them now. That’s a lot of baby to be hefting round.

They are developing personalities. Daniel is a big baby with an amiable grin and relaxed manner who reminds me forcibly of his uncle (my feckless brother – I foresee a lifetime of getting extra keys cut). He looks very like his big sister and moves like she did at his age (why should I hold my head up? No, really, why?  I don’t intend to crawl until I reach 11 months).

Michael is a very different child. Unlike the Princess and Daniel,he is not a bald baby (how extraordinary). He loves having his legs bicycled and already puts weight on his legs,an ominous sign that he may walk early. Where did we get an athletic baby from? Unlike his older and bigger brother he believes that sleep is for wimps but he is a lot more amiable on his four hours a night than I suspect Margaret Thatcher ever was.   I, however, am finding the regime challenging and, of course, the Princess likes to add her mite. I am sure you can imagine the joy in the Waffle household when after a night awake with the boys, the Princess knocked on our bedroom door at 6.02 this morning.



on 21 January 2006 at 15:54

look at those contented visages! what happy boys they seem.


on 22 January 2006 at 14:54

Sez – afternoon nap, you say? Ha ha ha (come on, join in waffly) ha ha ha.


on 23 January 2006 at 01:52

ahhh. So cute!!


on 23 January 2006 at 09:10

Sez, Jojo is right as ever. Kristin, Berry, thank you.

Tiring in a Whole New Way

20 January, 2006 at 1:36 pm by belgianwaffle

Email from my friend D:

Saw this and thought of you -particularly your description of bringing Princess to school with the twins in tow, one in a sling and the other in the buggy. I feel that this is not a viable option into the future as the twins get bigger..http://www.magicmum.com/phpBB/viewtopic.php?t=18600

Hope all is ok with you. Baby A has a cold and was awake crying from 1am to 4 am last night. I am shattered. I don’t know how you possibly manage with three. In fact I am surprised that anyone in the world has siblings at all, now that reliable contraception is available….

Yours in exhausted bewilderment,

You will note her wisdom in the matter of siblings.



on 23 January 2006 at 09:08
Good Lord Kristin, how extraordinary.

Role playing

19 January, 2006 at 8:55 am by belgianwaffle

Princess (to Mr. W.): Phtum, you’re me.
Princess (to me): Phtum, you’re Daddy.

Me (to Princess): Who are you?

Princess(aggrievedly):I’m MUMMY.

Mr. W (as Princess): Waah, get my doggy.

Me (as Mr. W): Don’t shout, be good and I will get your doggy.

Mr. W (as Princess): PLEASE get my doggy.

Me (as Mr. W. to Princess in role of Mummy): Is that sufficient? Will I get her doggy?

Princess (as Mummy): Yes, she is only two and a half, you know.



on 19 January 2006 at 12:44

Fabulous. She’s going to be (possibly foul-mouthed) Oscar winner one day. 0
Sweetie(s) given ���


on 19 January 2006 at 19:14

Thanks Amerly. V. prob foul mouthed, pog. 0
Sweetie(s) given ���


on 20 January 2006 at 11:56

your two and a half year old is giving you parenting advice. haha!
I’m torn between recommending Mr Waffle be more demanding and him being more flexible and accommodation. I fear the former may just give her more inspiration and the later give her unrealistic representation of herself. 0
Sweetie(s) given ���


on 20 January 2006 at 12:17

I know, UC, I know, and I’d love to know where she gets that smug manner from as well… 0
Sweetie(s) given ���


First World Problems

18 January, 2006 at 2:46 pm by belgianwaffle

Our fridge is broken. I rang my sister for sympathy.

Me (dolefully): Guess what?
Her: What?
Me: Our fridge has broken down.
Her: Thank God, I thought that you were going to say that you were pregnant.

I rang the Baroness’s agent (yes our landlady is a Baroness, welcome to Belgium, land of minor aristocracy) but
Charles-Emmanuel was unmoved by our plight. “But,” I pleaded “we have twin babies, we really NEED a fridge.” “Madam,” he said unmoved, “everybody needs a fridge.”

In fairness, however, the Baroness and her ex-husband (all the tenants wish that they’d get back together, he’s very handy and efficient) turned up to inspect the offending fridge, pronounced it dead and have since arranged for a new one to be purchased. Delivery is, alas, still pending. This is a matter of particular regret to me since I bought a lot of post-Christmas discount foie gras (in Belgium, foie gras is for Christmas not for life) and now it all has to be chucked.


on 18 January 2006 at 15:49
We’ll come round and help you out with the eating.

Friar Tuck

on 18 January 2006 at 16:11
Maybe you could send the foie gras to the baroness in order to stress the importance of receiving a new fridge ASAP.

on 18 January 2006 at 16:37
Why *minor* aristocracy ? Aristocracy is measured by its origins in time, rather than a scale of titles … Your baroness could very well be from a family dating from the 12th century, and a Count might as well be from a family belonging to aristocracy since the early 1900’s …


on 18 January 2006 at 20:48
Just as well, knowing what foie gras is supposed to do to the libido…

Friar Tuck

on 19 January 2006 at 02:26
Baroness makes a good point. Take my family, for instance. We can trace our origins back to Adam and Eve.


on 19 January 2006 at 04:39
just recovering from my posting faux pas of a few days ago to say … ‘toast points for everyone!’ i am quite jealous that you have good foie gras available to you, nevermind its incipient demise.


on 19 January 2006 at 12:08
It is very gratifying to discover that you all like foie gras.
Baroness, with all due respect, no matter how old a baronetcy is, I think that it’s pretty low down the pecking order.


on 19 January 2006 at 12:45
That’s awful – just awful – throwing away foie gras is a tragedy


on 20 January 2006 at 12:15
Pog, I am delighted to add you to the long list of my readers who are foie gras fans. Perhaps we could set up a club.


on 20 January 2006 at 12:53
Yes – we could have secret handshakes and codes (eg the grey geese fly at dawn). Ahem.


on 20 January 2006 at 13:18
Hmmm, grey geese that fly at dawn etc. Another unexpected depth to the Pog(gle).
But what I really wanted to say was that I have vague memories of being emotionally savaged by a policy wonk / veggie type I loved deeply but too well because of what they do to geese to make foie gras. All about locking them in barns, force-feeding them, clipping wings and oversized livers that made their legs break. And so on.
Kind of put me off for a while. But I’m allright now…
Ain’t time a wonderful thing?!


on 20 January 2006 at 13:20
Your policy wonk/veggie type was telling the truth. I am a bad person. Sometimes my appetite outweighs my conscience. But you already knew that, right?


on 20 January 2006 at 13:51
We are all bad people in some small ways; unthinkingly dragging (one of our two) new blankets through the gutters of life. Except ‘waf. Who is amazingly stoic and clear-sighted or something.
(Can anything truly outweigh conscience? Just wondering…. )


on 20 January 2006 at 13:53
You’re right, of course. My conscience doesn’t generally get outweighed. Sometimes it gets pushed to the back because of an excess of vin rouge (or similar), but not for long.


on 23 January 2006 at 09:08
Conscience? What’s that? The grey geese fly at dawn, my friends.


on 23 January 2006 at 20:41
So that would be geese and conscience flying with the wind….. 0


on 25 January 2006 at 08:51
Eh, yes Jack. 0

Around Whom Does the World Revolve?

18 January, 2006 at 2:39 pm by belgianwaffle

In the tram, the Princess peers at a fellow traveller’s shopping and, perceiving a gift wrapped item, turns to me, points at the parcel and says “I hope that present is for me.”


on 18 January 2006 at 15:48 She needs her own TV show. Sweetie(s) given ���


on 19 January 2006 at 12:46 Bobs is right. I’d pay to watch that. Sweetie(s) given ���


on 19 January 2006 at 19:15 HJB, Bobble, pog, do you think if we put her on the telly she might start to pay her way? Sweetie(s) given ���


on 20 January 2006 at 09:37 She might at least employ you as her PA – that’d be a start … 😉 0
Sweetie(s) given ���


on 20 January 2006 at 12:16 Pog, I think she’d be too demanding a boss. HJB, ta for sweetie, belatedly noticed.. 0
Sweetie(s) given

Tortured Vowels

17 January, 2006 at 10:40 am by belgianwaffle

When the Princess speaks English, she sounds like a little Belgian. Aside from the mistaken direct translations (e.g. “I’m there” for “I’m here” and “I’m coming” for “I can do it”) her accent is very odd. She pronounces there “theyRE”, here is “heRE” and chair is “chayRE”. I am baffled, it’s not like she’s ever heard anyone say “chayRE” and she obviously has no idea how they’re spelt.

She also laughs at my French pronunciation. Her class is called “accueil” and that combination of vowels is very hard for the non-French speaker. She now ambushes me saying: “Say “écureuil, accueil, feuille”” Mummy. Oh very funny.

15 January, 2006 at 1:06 pm by belgianwaffle

pain quotidien (post mass treat) and no mass.”

I don’t know why she objects, it’s far from the dull experience I had
when I was her age. We check out the confessionals at the back of
the church and look at all the statues “Look, Mummy, baby Jesus.
Oh Mummy, another baby Jesus”. You get the picture.
Incidentally, I am having some difficulty explaining the role of
Joseph in the holy family, for the meanwhile he has been described as
Jesus’s Daddy which may yet get me excommunicated.

Looking at the pieta which features a rather grisly looking Jesus we had the following exchange.
Her: Oh Mummy, poor sick Jesus.
Me: Yes dear.
Her: And his Mummy Mary is sad.
Me: Yes she is, poor Mary.
Her: As sad as Cinderella?
Me: Possibly even sadder.
Her: We give her a biscuit to make it better.
Me: She is so sad that even a biscuit may not make it better.




on 15 January 2006 at 16:31

Good for the Princess, tackling the tough topics. My little one is terrified of the priests, which makes eucharist very complicated. last time, as the wizened hand reached forward to bless her, she backed up, stepped off the kneeling bit at the altar rail and fell smack on her diapered bottom. Oh, the screams. Mommy didn’t take communion that day, she was busy rushing the screaming devil-child away from the source of righteousness.


on 15 January 2006 at 19:16

Ahh biscuits. Is there anything they can’t do? 1
Sweetie(s) given



on 15 January 2006 at 20:03

Good for the Princess, tackling the tough topics. My little one is terrified of the priests, which makes eucharist very complicated. last time, as the wizened hand reached forward to bless her, she backed up, stepped off the kneeling bit at the altar rail and fell smack on her diapered bottom. Oh, the screams. Mommy didn’t take communion that day, she was busy rushing the screaming devil-child away from the source of righteousness.



on 15 January 2006 at 20:04

sorry for double post. computer burped.

Friar Tuck

on 16 January 2006 at 16:10

If it’s such a pain, why does Princess like it so much?
(Sorry. Now I know why you want me out of your blog.)


on 16 January 2006 at 17:50

I’m sure the baboon would agree with her on the biscuits fixing anything principle … 0
Sweetie(s) given


on 19 January 2006 at 12:06

Pog, Norah, ahh biscuits. Thanks for the sweetie N.
FT, get your own blog.
Kristin, no problem at all, made me feel very popular.
Thks Sez. 0
Sweetie(s) given


Did you know that Prince Charming was Irish?

12 January, 2006 at 9:45 am by belgianwaffle

Me: And the clock struck midnight.
Her: Bong, bong, bong.
Me: And Cinderella ran away.
Her: Did Prince Charming say “feck” Mummy?


on 12 January 2006 at 10:32

Har! Fab. 0
Sweetie(s) given ���


on 12 January 2006 at 17:15

love it!! 0
Sweetie(s) given ���


on 12 January 2006 at 17:37

Oh – it reminds me of the days of Lazy Jack Silver and Her Imperial Highness’s haughty tones ….. 0
Sweetie(s) given ���



on 12 January 2006 at 21:28

Adorable ;-))
When he was her age, Tetan pretended he was Alice (in Wonderland). That worried me at some point (since I remembered giving birth to a baby boy). Nowadays, he sits on the side of the bathtub pretending he is a gargoyle (The Gargoyles on TV everyday at 8.00am). When I was 4, I didn’t even know what a gargoyle was… A spoiled generation. ���


on 13 January 2006 at 13:03

Please tell me you said yes. Please. I know I would, I couldn’t help myself. 0
Sweetie(s) given ���


on 13 January 2006 at 14:09

cha0tic, said maybe.
Thank you Peggy, think we’re some way from the sophistication of gargoyles over here.
Ah yes, pog, I know what you mean – when I had time on my hands.
Bobble, Norah, Sonicson, ta. 0
Sweetie(s) given ���


11 January, 2006 at 2:47 pm by belgianwaffle

Princess is obsessed with Cinderella. We
have seen the pantomime, the puppet show, the film and we are in possession of
a number of variations of the book.

Last night
Mr. Waffle put her to bed and he told me that she did her latest trick inspired
by the magic of the fairy godmother.
“Phtum” she said waving an imaginary wand “you are Princess and I am
Daddy.” “What did you do?” I asked. “What do you think I did?” he said “I lay on
her bed while she sat in the chair beside me and told me the story of



on 11 January 2006 at 17:04

Excellent! LOL 0
Sweetie(s) given

Friar Tuck

on 12 January 2006 at 04:18

Come on, admit it. You’re telling us these cute stories about Princess to convince us that we absolutely, positively must have an opportunity to babysit her. You’ve got me convinced.


on 12 January 2006 at 09:53

Mike, that’s brought back dreadful memories.
Ta Diva.
FT, you may live to regret this offer. 0
Sweetie(s) given


School and logistics

11 January, 2006 at 9:57 am by belgianwaffle

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

Good lord woman – you’ve transcended mere human and appear to have evolved into some sort of super-being. 1
Sweetie(s) given


on 11 January 2006 at 10:23

you were superwoman not just yesterday but are so every day. Just the logistic of two babies and a (demanding) princess sound a nightmare, never mind all the other stuff. 0
Sweetie(s) given ���


on 11 January 2006 at 14:49

Just reading that makes me tired. And I’m worried about the ski trip? Actually – yes, I’m still worried about the ski trip. 1
Sweetie(s) given ���



on 11 January 2006 at 23:33

could the princess be more precious?! clever girl! ���


on 12 January 2006 at 08:40

You should patent the phrase ‘cloth of decency’ my dear. 0
Sweetie(s) given ���


on 12 January 2006 at 09:56

Bobble, stolen from himself, I fear.
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.

9 January, 2006 at 10:12 am by belgianwaffle

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 airhostess 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… 0
Sweetie(s) given

Friar Tuck

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) 0
Sweetie(s) given


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? 0
Sweetie(s) given


on 11 January 2006 at 10:03

Lilo, yup, they are what is known as “good babies”.
Thanks Diva.
Friar Tuck, where have you gone? Why are you wearing an orange jump suit?
JD, profound.
Ta Norah. 0
Sweetie(s) given


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…. 0
Sweetie(s) given



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. 0
Sweetie(s) given


Travelling Heavy

9 January, 2006 at 9:55 am by belgianwaffle

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, it’s 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

My Goodness, Waffley, was that YOU lurking behind the garden wall? Well, i guess we do know one another then. and i’d be obliged if you’d keep your ginger cat away from the baby birds in the hedge.
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
Comment Modified)

You know all your readers? So you know me? Wait, are you the strange person with the night vision goggles hiding behind my bins?
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

Mike, Kristin, yes, it’s me! Kristin, I bow to your superior luggage capabilities.
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

LOL! I’m sure you will, you sound like a great mum and that’s how super grandmothers start ;o) If my granny was an old bag I doubt I’d have the patience I do, but she is an angel with a heart of gold so it’s very hard, if not impossible to be annoyed with her for long!


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

Thanks Diva. HJB, I am gutted that I don’t… I suggest that you move to Belgium.

We’re all multicultural now

7 January, 2006 at 4:28 pm by belgianwaffle

On St Stephen’s 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 Fitzgerald’s 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.

Friar Tuck

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.

Friar Tuck

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?

  • www.flickr.com
    belgianwaffle's items Go to belgianwaffle's photostream
  • January 2006
    M T W T F S S
    « Dec   Feb »
  • Categories

  • Subscribe via Email

  • Site Meter



Subscribe Share