belgianwaffle

Princess

Saturday Night at the Movies


Posted in: Dublin, Family, Ireland, Middle Child, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

Mr. Waffle, the boys and I went to see Paddington last night. In the cinema, we met a) Daniel and Michael’s friend and his family who had just seen Paddington – they recommended it b) a friend of the Princess’s (she remained unmoved when I told her that her friend was there and thought that Paddington – which the Princess had refused to see with us – was a worthy film) c) a boy from Daniel and Michael’s year in school and two second years from their school and d) a neighbour from the bottom of the road and her two sons. I used to think that Dublin was an anonymous big city; I think I was misled.

Anyhow we all quite enjoyed Paddington in a mild way. The Princess joined us afterwards in Milano’s (funded by my brother’s Tesco vouchers, thanks Dan) and we explained the plot to her though we had some difficulties (what did happen to the treasure? and the book?) she surveyed us in mild contempt and said that if we were having plot problems with Paddington then she despaired of us all. No change there then.

In unrelated news, Daniel won the hamper raffle at school. It was in aid of the student council where herself is a leading light. There’s a hilarious picture on the school’s twitter feed of her handing the hamper over to her brother with a forced smile while he is receiving it with unalloyed delight.

As Gaeilge


Posted in: Princess

Me: It’s nice to see you wearing your Fáinne
Her: Mmm.
Me: Have I scuppered it? Are you never going to wear it again?
Her: I’m just unsure about the cultural elitism surrounding a language that can’t really afford it.

In related news, we had parent/teacher meetings for herself earlier this evening – all well. At least, I think so, most of the talking was done in the first national language – although I draw the line at the teacher from Donegal who I find completely unintelligible – so my comprehension was at about 80% but the signs seemed positive. I missed the presentation on the new Junior Cycle because I was still queuing to see her year head but she tells me that she was called upon to list her extra-curricular activities to give the parents an idea of what children could include in the new Junior Cycle Profile of Achievement. Good call because there cannot be a child in Ireland with more extra-curricular activities. She was there this evening because she was doing registration of parents and selling raffle tickets in aid of the student council. Of course she was.

Any Given Monday


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Middle Child, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

So, today, I cycled home from work in the rain. I got home about 7 to my latch key children and decided not to take Daniel to GAA training as Mr. Waffle would have done, had he been here (he is, sadly, away for work). I then gave the boys pizza for dinner (yes, they had pizza for dinner last night as well for their birthday party; our house is a temple to healthy eating at the moment). I burnt Michael’s because I am truly on top of my game. Herself and myself had Thai take-out. €36 for two on a school-night Monday. I can feel you judging me. I’m judging me.

I signed homework notebooks for the boys. Michael forgot to bring in his art materials today and Daniel forgot his home economics ingredients (“Did you not get to make anything then?” I asked. “Yes, I got ingredients from the cupboard and made scones, they’re in the bottom of my schoolbag,” he said. For all I know, they’re there still becoming ever more appealing as they are crushed by the weight of school books). Daniel also forgot to do his history homework and spent much of the evening frantically writing his history essay now due tomorrow on pain of death. This despite the fact that last night they faithfully promised me that they had in their school bags everything they needed for today. Signed a form allowing herself to go on a school retreat. Revised Michael’s months of the year in German for a test on Thursday. Refused to help herself with prep for her German test on the grounds that at this point I am more likely to put her off than assist. As she corrected my dates in German for Michael’s benefit, she was forced to concede that I was correct.

While the children cleared up after dinner (more a throwing out of cartons than a real clean up), I went to do some work on the computer. Herself went back upstairs to do more homework after cleaning up and, once the boys had packed their bags for tomorrow (Did I double check? I did not. Is this wise? I think we all know the answer to that.), the boys and I watched an episode of the “Big Bang Theory” and then they went to bed. I turned back to my labours for the office (big all day meeting tomorrow) and at 9.45 herself sidled in. “The blueberries didn’t come with the shopping and I need them for home economics tomorrow.” Was there any point between last Thursday when the shopping came and 9.45 the night before they were needed when this might have been mentioned? “I don’t need them until after 11.30,” said she. Usually her father can be relied on to perform these awkward errands but he is away and I am not at liberty to leave my meeting in the morning for blueberry hunting. This is why I found myself in Tesco at 9.55 this evening looking for blueberries, insert your own joke about late stage capitalism and the Americanisation of everything here (it’s far from blueberries we were reared etc.).

OK, I have updated my blog and finished my work for this evening; I’m going to bed now to reread Harry Potter and nobody can stop me. Judge away, it’s all I’m fit for.

Updated to add: The cat can stop me. She’s supposed to be put in the utility room for the night, otherwise she travels around the house mewing in people’s ears. Mr. Waffle normally stows her away. He did not stow her away tonight. Possibly my husband should go away more often so that I can fully appreciate all the things he does around the house. Mental note: why is laundry basket overflowing?

Weekend Round-Up


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

On Friday night, herself went to stay at friend’s house. I dropped her off on the way to a table quiz with former colleagues including the person who always wins pub quizzes. We won. On Saturday it was absolutely lashing. Once collected from her friend’s house in the morning and having had an hour or so to re-group at home, herself disappeared off with friends for the day. Daniel had no match (mirabile dictu). While Michael was at drama in the afternoon, Daniel, Mr. Waffle and I did some boring but necessary tasks (new football boots, wedding present, new jumpers) and then when Michael finished drama we all went to the science gallery exhibition on catastrophes which was not as thrilling as the boys had hoped. Last night Mr. Waffle and I went out to dinner and a film (Death of Stalin) which wasn’t bad but wasn’t as amazing as everyone said it was either.

This morning was mass and hockey followed by (drum roll, please) the boys’ birthday party only a month and a bit after their actual birthday on September 27. We had six 12 and 13 year old boys around (which, including our own pair, is eight boys, that’s a lot of boys). We took them down to the park where they played capture the flag and football. The weather was beautiful. When they came back to the house, they had cake and settled down to play board games until we gave them pizza about 6.30. We then fell back on charades until their parents came to collect them between 7 and 7.30. It felt a bit like 8 o’clock on Christmas night when everyone is exhausted but the mood is reasonably good. I’ve had worse birthday parties, I can tell you. Herself came back from another day in the company of friends to cast an imperious eye over the first years and eat pizza with them.

I sometimes wonder what exactly I filled my weekends with in my 20s. Possibly, shopping for a more extensive wardrobe. This is what Mr. Waffle and I wore yesterday:

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Mild Success


Posted in: Family, Princess, Reading etc.

I’ve spent a lot of time over the past couple of weeks on trains and I am very susceptible to advertising. “Murder on the Orient Express” has been plugged pretty relentlessly on the big screen in Heuston station. It was, therefore, perhaps inevitable then that we should go en famille on Sunday.

There was some negotiation on the timing of this. This weekend herself was out with a friend Friday morning, out with other friends Friday afternoon, at a party next door Friday night – about 70 teenagers, I applaud my neighbours – over to a friend in Kildare for a sleepover on Saturday and back Sunday lunchtime; Daniel had a play off for second place in his division of the league, they won could well be looking at promotion to division 9, and choir on Sunday morning; Michael had drama on Saturday afternoon and hockey on Sunday morning, so finding an agreed time at all was difficult. I decided we would push on even when I saw a stinker of a review in the Irish Times. We cycled in and out very successfully (back in the dark as well) and the film itself was actually ideal Sunday afternoon family fare. None of the children had read the book so the dénouement was a surprise to them. The cinematography was truly beautiful (my sister says that this is always the kiss of death for a film) and it was all enjoyable in a mild way. Herself got great entertainment from Kenneth Branagh’s Belgian accent (poor, he pronounced the f in ouefs apparently, I didn’t notice) and it was all good stuff and it prepared us psychologically for the much-regretted end of mid-term.

Mompromise


Posted in: Middle Child, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

The boys went off today on all day birthday hike with a friend. This left myself and Mr. Waffle at home alone with our firstborn. We decided to go for a walk together. She was not keen. “Let’s try for a compromise,” I said brightly. “When you say compromise, what you mean is that we’ll still do what you want but you’ll be miserable and long-suffering about it,” said herself. Oh the blinding moment of clarity; I did recognise that person. “I call it the mompromise,” she said.

We took her for lunch before we made her climb up the Sugar Loaf. Her mood was not improved by the woman at the table beside us leaning across and saying to us, “I’ve never seen a more similar mother and daughter than you two.”

She was somewhat gloomy on the walk and although the views were beautiful,

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they did not entirely melt her hardened heart.

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She went up and down at a ferocious clip. Exhausted from the ascent at speed, we let her travel down ahead of us and she was waiting, only slightly impatiently, in the car park when we arrived back. She was finally partially appeased by an anxious offer of tea and a bun in Enniskerry.

When her brothers arrived back at 9 from their day long hike, which they quite enjoyed, I asked whether their walks in the mountains with their parents (usually about two hours) had prepared them for this, they said, “No, not at all.”

Alas.