belgianwaffle

Princess

Not Entirely Satisfactory


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

Mr. Waffle had to spend all weekend working. In consequence, I found myself engaged in solo front line parenting. Yesterday morning, I took Dan to hurling and shouted encouragement from the sidelines (they enjoyed a very comprehensive victory, so much so that I and another mother who was watching felt very sorry for the opposition). Yesterday afternoon, the boys had a birthday party and I dropped them in and took herself for a cup of tea. Then back into town to collect the boys. I felt like I spent most of the day running children all over the city. Mr. Waffle made dinner though; so that was very welcome.

This morning began at 7 with Daniel getting sick – though, as he said, he made it to the toilet, so it could have been worse. Poor Mr. Waffle trekked off to a meeting at 9.30 and Daniel continued peaky. I realised about 11 that he wasn’t well enough to go to mass. And we had committed to herself doing a reading and some kind of special introduction for the first communicants (local primary prepping for May) at 11.30. In the end I sent her on her own. She was bitter and, as she pointed out she got to read one of my favourite readings; you know the one, St. Paul, “I have run my race to the finish..” If she was bitter, however, Michael was delighted. I briefly contemplated sending him along with his sister but it was too much. She would be up in the choir loft; he would be alone in the congregation staring moodily at the ceiling. I did not feel it would end well.

Mr. Waffle was restored to us at lunch time but, alas, further work beckoned so I took the children out. Herself wanted to go shopping alone so, with some trepidation, I took her to town and left her with her phone in a large shopping centre. If you are of a nervous disposition, I can reassure you that all went well and she managed to spend a large chunk of money in Tiger. Much of it was spent on candles and night lights. I am not sure a) how this reconciles with her love for Marie Kondo and b) whether I entirely approve of her room being turned into a fire hazard.

The boys and I went to the Science Gallery where there was an interesting, if depressing, exhibition on design and violence. It was not perhaps entirely suitable for 11 year olds but there were a number of them there; they weren’t allowed to undergo the virtual reality solitary confinement experience. Probably for the best. Michael, at my instigation, did sit on a metal chair. It’s a cube and is delivered with it’s own sledgehammer and you batter it into a chair shape. If you pay extra, they will pre-batter it for you. I was just asking Michael whether it was comfortable (unsurprisingly, it was not) when one of the staff bounded up and asked him politely, but anxiously, to get off the exhibit. Apparently, it cost €8,000 and they were not keen for people to try it out. High concept design but not practical, I would suggest.

Michael considers a 3D printable gun – just add your own nail:

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We went to the café where both boys dutifully looked at the list of words on the wall – semantics of violence, I understand. As one of the words was boycott, I insisted on explaining about Captain Boycott; they were not fascinated. Daniel had hot chocolate and a slice of biscuit cake (much recovered from 7am vomiting) but Michael did not like anything on the menu (a frequent occurrence) and commented, “I thought something like this would happen.” Then, with the air of a conjurer pulling a rabbit from a hat, he took a lollipop from his pocket which he proceeded to suck contentedly. Cheap date.

We then took ourselves off to the Natural History Museum which was busy but appealed in a mild way to both boys. In September, they had been to a session about TH Parke whose statute is in front of the museum, so they were able to fill me in on him. Interesting man.

You probably can’t make out the relief on the statute but Daniel informs me that our man is sucking out poison from the chest of one of the others on his expedition.

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And then we all went home and poor Mr. Waffle had finally finished working. He spent an hour playing Betrayal at House on the Hill with the boys. This is a board game which the children love and Mr. Waffle and I loath so this was particularly noble. Now he is making dinner, like a saint, and tomorrow we are all back to work. Alas, alack.

All Go


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

Last week was another rather busy week. On Monday night we had GAA for Dan, scouts for Michael and Pilates for Mr. Waffle to try to help his bad back (on the advice of an eccentric gentleman from Co. Down – more of which anon).

Tuesday was open night for the secondary school that the boys are most likely to go to – the Princess’s current school. She wasn’t there (off at a debating competition) but the teachers all recognised Daniel as her brother as he does look very like her. “I don’t just want to be someone’s brother,” he said mournfully. However, overall the evening was a success. We headed home about 8.30 and promptly, as we sat on the sofa, got a call from the school saying that the debating team had finally returned and could we go back to the school and collect herself. On the debating, she had came home and told us that the motion was “The internet is a waste of time”. So we tossed around some ideas on that. Then the next night she said, “My mistake, it’s Transition Year is a waste of time.” Her teacher is from Donegal where the Irish can be hard from Dubliners to understand and, in any event, idirlinn (internet) and idirbhlian (transition year) sound more alike than you might think.

On Wednesday, Mr. Waffle and I went to the theatre. The piece we saw was a site-specific, interactive, interpretative dance piece and perhaps you needed to be on top of your game to appreciate it because we did not, particularly. It has got superb reviews, if you fancy going along yourself.

On Friday night herself had French class which she got to on the bus but needed to be collected from – v. happily, however, a neighbour volunteered to collect her but with traffic, it was gone 8 when she was restored to us.

All week long we had men in the house fitting new windows which meant that the house smelt of putty (not unpleasant) and was covered in a layer of dust. Also all the curtains will need to be dry cleaned. But still, new windows. They’re supposed to finish this week. Fingers crossed.

On Saturday morning, I was up with the (slightly later) lark to drive Daniel and a neighbour’s child to a GAA match. Herself came with us. I got horribly lost in West Dublin, not helped by the boys piping up from time to time: “The match is probably over now” or “How long have we been in the car?” We did eventually make landfall and the boys were slaughtered by the opposition and quite mournful. In the afternoon we looked for a new car (no joy yet) and Mr. Waffle and I went to a very good exhibition in the National Gallery. We forced Michael to come with us as he had not left the house all day (the other pair stayed behind and made dinner – good eh?). Despite himself, Michael found the exhibition mildly interesting. When asked whether he found it even a tiny bit good, he said “A tiny bit, like about the size of an atom which is the basic building block of the universe.” You have to start somewhere, I suppose.

Then on Sunday, I went to my bookclub which is an all afternoon affair and Mr. Waffle and the children went out to visit his parents in a distant suburb. I felt mildly guilty that we absolutely failed to see anything in Open House Dublin but I think I may be beginning to know my limits. We had some friends call around that evening and they stayed for dinner which was lovely and as they are v low maintenance, quite undemanding- although Mr. Waffle cooked so it may have been more demanding for him.

And then, this evening, it starts all over again: GAA, scouts, pilates. No culture this week though.
Updated to add: Today (Wednesday) Mr. Waffle asked whether in my floundering around west Dublin I had crossed the toll paying ring road.  “Only for two seconds and I told Daniel to remind me to pay the toll when we got home,” I said defensively.  Funnily enough the 11 year old didn’t remember my obligations for me.  Still not too bad, fine is only about 6 quid and Mr. Waffle (having lost all faith in his wife’s administrative ability) is paying it for me.

Shocking


Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Princess

Herself: I got a shock from the light in the utility room.
Me (vaguely): Oh dear.
Mr. Waffle: I’ve never heard of such thing.
Me: Oh yes, that used to happen to me all the time in the house where I grew up.
Him (sceptically): I don’t believe it.
Her (mournfully): Mum believes me but she’s hopeless at sympathising and Dad just doesn’t believe me.
Him (completely unconvincingly): No, I do.
Me: Don’t switch on the light with wet hands and you should be fine.

A couple of nights later there was a loud yelp from the utility room. We all rushed in. “I got a shock!” said Mr. Waffle in outrage. “Told you!” said herself. “You’ll live,”said I. Anxious readers will be pleased to know that Mr. Waffle is looking into getting an electrician in. Tell me, has anyone else had a light switch shock? Surely, yes.

Essential Tragedy


Posted in: Princess

Regular readers will recall that the Princess and I made mint essence over the summer. When we took it out from its cool dark place after a month of resting, we strained out the mint and tasted it. It looked a revolting brown colour. It smelt absolutely vile and, I regret to tell you that it tasted revolting. That’s €20 worth of vodka literally down the drain. Next time, we’ll just buy peppermint essence. Sigh.

We’re All Very Funny


Posted in: Princess

Herself: I really admire farmers who don’t use chemicals.
Me (surprised): Do you?
Her: Yes, it must be so hard to grow things in a vacuum.
Me: Good one.
Her: Yes, and it helps tell the wheat from the chaff.
Me: Which am I?
Her: Well, I’m not a farmer so I’m not sure which is the good one, but the good one.

Marie Kondo Changes our Lives


Posted in: Princess

So, Herself read “The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up“. If you are unfamiliar with Ms. Kondo’s book, the clue is in the title. Then, she read it again.

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Then she spent about a fortnight tidying her room while keeping Marie Kondo on her bedside table for inspiration. I lugged enormous black bags of stuff to the charity shop at regular intervals. I also preserved a lot of books which she was heartlessly going to give away. This has not been without consequences for the rest of the house.

Mr. Waffle emailed me this picture which he entitled “The cull continues”.

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This is the pile on the landing after distribution of extensive stocks to her brothers and cousins:
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But her room is amazing. It’s really tidy and it has stayed that way. She’s really grown up a lot this summer. She looks more grown up and she has become very self-sufficient. She spent a week in Paris and a week in London. She was with her aunt in London and had an amazing time. The trip to Paris with her exchange and no relatives was more challenging but she did it and she is quite proud of herself, I think. That was the longest she had been away without family. In many ways she did more growing up after the end of first year in secondary school than after the end of primary school. Going into secondary school, she was still a child but now she is definitely a teenager. I think we get on pretty well and we do like to talk but I am also, in her view, endlessly tactless as, I point out to her, is the nature of parents of teenagers everywhere.

She sends me emails which I find delightful. Like this one.

To: Me
From: Herself
Subject: Help

A butterfly butterflew into my room
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You don’t hear this much but, do you know what, I’m going to say it, I really like being the parent of a teenager. I hope these words won’t come back to haunt me.