belgianwaffle

Middle Child

Poor Daniel


Posted in: Middle Child

Belgium in May is a cruel place. Weekends consist of one bank holiday after another and loving parents run out of ideas as to what their delightful offspring might like to do. On Monday afternoon, we decided to go to the pool. We rang to check it was open on the bank holiday, it was. We herded our children into the car. Half way there, Daniel vomitted copiously getting himself and his seat. We pulled in, in front of a garage and stripped him down to his nappy while the other pair complained vigourously. We wrapped his vomitted on seat in a towel while he sat in the front seat, turned on the radio and waved his arms around happily to the music and the man waiting to get out of the garage (of course) waited. We then went home to change him and regroup amid howls of protest. Then, we set out again, all smelling somewhat of vomit, though, only one of us had to sit in the vomit covered chair wrapped in a towel. Poor Daniel looked a bit pale and interesting as he was driven around the back streets of Brussels inhaling at very close quarters the odour of the regurgitated contents of his stomach. We got to the pool and disgorged everyone. Do I need to tell you that the pool was closed due to a technical fault. What do you think that might be? We drove to another swimming pool. All the roads round it were sealed off but eventually we found the one road which was open. Unlike the pool. Closed for the bank holiday. We all nearly cried on the way home after a singularly unproductive hour and a half in the car.

To summarise


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

Daniel has been vomitting on and off all week.  On our worst night we got to change his bedclothes three times.  We went into town yesterday (we are your worst nightmare, a double buggy, two parents and a three year old and, yeah, we probably could have gone in during the week) and took ourselves to the Metropole to revive our flagging spirits – I recommend it, it has the cleanest toilets in Brussels.  So, as we sat in splendour here it was inevitable, really, that Daniel would throw up all over the rug.  With admirable calm, we stripped him down to his nappy (which he then insisted on removing but it was hastily restored) reclad him, apologised to the waiter and took ourselves and our kit to the adjoining table.  On the good news front for Daniel, he has started to walk, though, understandably, not very steadily or very fast.  This is unfortunate for him.  Michael has gathered that there is praise to be had for walking so he either out runs Daniel into waiting parental arms or, as Daniel is balancing delicately having just stood up with great effort, Michael barges past him and knocks him over.  It is not easy being a twin.

Daniel and the Princess are cautious children.  I know that this is unusual and I am grateful.  Michael is not cautious, I suppose that this is normal.  It is scaring the bejaysus out of me.  Yesterday I found him trying to surf on the coffee table.  Earlier in the day I heard a tap tap noise and I sent the Princess to investigate “it’s just Michael standing on the chair and rocking back and forth”.  When I sit him on the counter in the kitchen, he is dangling off it by his fingertips in moments.  His sister has sat on that countertop for over three years and when she wants to get down, she still asks me to lift her.   I let him sit at the computer keyboard. He used this opportunity to climb up on the desk and on to the bookshelves.  I’m a shadow of my former self.  On Friday he went to the creche on his own because Daniel was vomitting.  Mr. Waffle stayed home with Daniel and I took Michael in.  He was a bit clingy at first but was lured away from me by a pink buggy and when I went he had barely a backward glance for me as he wheeled his treasure round the premises.  When I collected him he had spent 7 hours in the creche, the longest period he and Daniel have ever spent apart.  I asked how it had gone.  Absolutely fine except when he woke up from his nap and looked around for Daniel.  I have to say, Michael was pleased to see me, but then he always is, in the gratifying manner of young children.  He ran around the room picking up little things for me and handing them over saying solemly “ank u” a noise I believe to be thank you.  Daniel, safely at home with his father, didn’t seem to have noticed Michael’s absence at all.  Perhaps he was doing some work on his walking.

They’re both starting to talk more.  I encourage them to kiss each other and when they do we all clap hands and say “Bravo”.  The other day, I was distracted and Daniel kissed Michael and I failed to react.  “BWABO!” said Daniel indignantly clapping his hands.  He can still say “that” and “the bath”.  They can both say “Hi” as well as “Mama”, “Papa” and “bye”.  It’s maybe not enough to get by in a foreign country but they’re getting there.

An old friend of mine came to visit at the weekend.  He came with a friend of his whom I know slightly.  His friend asked whether I was working with 3 small children.  “Yes” I said proudly. “So am I” added Mr. Waffle indignantly.  I think we have a mountain to climb on this feminism thing.  My friend is gay and so is his friend though they are not partners.  I don’t know why but the Princess was inspired to investigate the whole issue of gay marriage during their visit.

Her: Mummy, can men get married?

Me: Yes.

Her: To each other?

Me: Yes, certainly in Belgium.

Her: Are T and N married.

Me: Um, no, I don’t think so.

T and N: NO!

T (kindly): And if we were, you would certainly have made the cut for the wedding.

The Princess would like to be a flower girl.

She also wants to know who made God.  Any tips?

Ms. Malaprop


Posted in: Middle Child, Princess

Daniel: UH OH

Me: What did you drop sweetheart?

Princess: He didn’t drop anything, he’s lining.

Travelling back


Posted in: Middle Child, Princess, Reading etc.

We came back from Dublin yesterday. I am still a shadow of my former self. On the plane back, the Princess sat by the window, Mr. Waffle sat in front of her with Michael on his lap and I sat beside her with Daniel on my lap. As we were sitting on the runway taxiing about, the Princess and I had the following conversation:

Her: I want to do a poo.
Me: You can do a poo when the fasten seatbelts sign goes off.
Her: But I want to do a poo NOW!
Me: I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.
Her: But the poo wants to come out.
Me: Well it will just have to wait. What is that awful smell? And those funny damp brown marks on Daniel’s back?
Her (giggling): I think he did a big poo Mummy.

Once airborne we retire to the toilet where the Princess sits on the toilet while I try to stop Daniel eating anything dangerous. When she is finished, I change Daniel’s nappy and all his clothes. He wriggles. The toilets on planes are small. That’s probably all the detail you need. When we got back to our seating, the long-suffering man on the outside stood up to let us troop in.

Him: Three children – a lot of work, eh?
Me: Hmm. I suppose. Princess, sweetheart, can you get up off the floor please.
Him: I have two sons 27 and 29.
Me: That’s nice. Are you from Belgium?
Him: Yes from Mechelen.
Me: I like Mechelen.
Him: It’s handy for my work. I travel a lot. I was in Ireland for work. It’s very expensive.
Me: Yes, isn’t it? Sweetheart, what are you doing down there?
Princess (muffled but indignant): I’m picking up papers to put them in the bin.
Him: Are you working in Brussels?
Me: Yes, what do you do yourself?
Him: I’m a businessman. I sponsor the IMPAC literary prize.
Me (vaguely aware that this is the largest literary prize in the world): Goodness, that’s very impressive.
Him (pleased): You’ve heard of it?
Me: Absolutely. Daniel will you please stop pulling your sister’s hair? You must be very interested in literature.
Him: No, it’s really for the publicity. My passion is art collecting. When I’m in my New York office, I like to go to the art galleries.
Me: What kind of art do you like to collect? Are you biting him?
Princess: NO, I’m kissing my little brother.
Him: I like Cobra and I have a lot of these works.
Me (faintly): A lot?
Him: Yes. I also collect….[inaudible]
Daniel: Waah, a bottle, waah, I need a bottle, also she did bite me.
Him:…and a small Picasso that I keep in the kitchen.
Me: Good for you. Here, sweetheart, have a bottle.
Daniel: Glug.
Princess: I WANT a bottle.
Me: Well, I haven’t got a bottle for you.
Princess: Can I have some crisps then when the “any drinks or snacks” lady comes?
Me: OK, then.
Him: I’m also really interested in the symbolists.
Me: Oh yeah, did you see that whatshisname, Belgian symbolist, um..
Him: Khnopff?
Me: Yes. Horsey, horsey don’t you stop, just let your feet go clippety clop…
Daniel: Big grin.
Princess: When will it be MY turn to sit on your lap?
Him: Did you see that picture of his sister in the dress with all the buttons?
Me (warily, considering that almost all the pictures were of his sister – Khnopff appears to have a number of issues here): Yeees.
Him: Do you collect at all?
Me: No, not really, no.
Him: I had my house repainted in the colour scheme on that painting. Why not, eh?
Me: Why not indeed, um, do you have a very large house for your large collection?
Him: Art nouveau house, 600 square metres.
Me (swooning from envy): Lovely. Sweetheart, look out over England, see all those things sparkling, they’re fireworks (it was November 5 and the English like their fireworks for Guy Fawkes – it was an extraordinary sight).
Daniel: UH OH.
Me: Princess, could you pick up your brother’s bottle?
Her: No, I’m looking at the fireworks.
Him:Have you been to see the Spilliaert exhibition?
Me (holding Daniel on the chair with one hand while rooting round on my knees on the floor for the missing bottle): No, not yet, though I do like Spilliaert. He’s interesting in a weird Belgian kind of way.
Him: You think Belgians are weird?
Daniel: The bottle woman.
Me (inserting bottle in indignant mouth): The home of surrealism, I think so, yes.
Her: Can I see Aunty Publishing Exec’s house?
Me: No, sweetheart, we’re too high up and anyway, we’re over Belgium now.
Him (pensively): Having children, it’s a lot of work; I’m not so sure about having another baby. I think I will offer a million to the first of my sons to have a grandchild.

I’m not sure whether he was serious or not but I bet he wished that aer lingus hadn’t dispensed with business class for the weekend flights.

More blogs for NaBlPoMo 

Peggy (in French)

Peggy is a working mother of two little boys. She works on European stuff but is Belgian. I know this sounds odd, but it is hard to meet Belgians in Brussels. Please trust me on this. Peggy is like a Belgian friend. Through her blog, I get an insight into what it must be like being a Belgian in Brussels. I won’t say anything further because I don’t want to unnerve her by behaving like a weird foreign stalker but I do like her blog.

A Little Pregnant

Julie, mother of one after (trust me here), not inconsiderable difficulties.  Polemical, opinionated, funny – what’s not to like?

The Hague -Our Favourite City of Vomit


Posted in: Middle Child, Princess, Travel, Twins

Last time we went to the Hague, the Princess was sick, she vomitted on all of our friends’ sheets. All night. This time there were no sick children. There was one sick mother, but it wasn’t me. And she was recovering from the vomitting bug. And, so far, none of my children appears to have caught it. So all in all, city of vomit is an unfair appellation but give a city a bad name and all that.

We had a lovely time in the Hague over the weekend and the problem with having a lovely time is that it gives you no bloggable material. Everything was lovely (except for the Dutch Mama’s illness and she struggled womanfully to conceal it, so it didn’t overly affect us). Mr. Dutch Mama spent part of the weekend building a bike shed in the front garden and all of the time being tall therefore effectively reinforcing all my stereotypes about Dutch people which was deeply gratifying. The Princess was charmed by the toys available for her delectation and, in a high point for her, got to have a bath with her little hiberno-dutch hosts. The Dutch Mama, illness nothwithstanding, spent all of the weekend with one or other of our babies in her arms thereby freeing us up to read, eat, stop our daughter from savaging our hosts etc.

I was struck by what very good little children our hosts were and though their Mama said that it was really down to them and nothing to do with her parenting, I can’t help wondering whether this is actually the case. And they eat everything. The Princess consumed an apple and a morsel of chicken over the weekend. Oh, and plenty of biscuits. Why is my child a fussy eater? I blame her father, I enjoy that.

And we left with a supply of cute little boy clothes; please admire Daniel in Dutch jumper:

Sleeping Arrangements


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

9.20 Michael stops crying. Most upsetting. Thought we had cracked it when the night before last they only cried for ten minutes but obviously, they’re made of sterner stuff than I had realised. Very traumatised. Mr. Waffle less so “they don’t remember it”. “Well, if that’s so, why do they start to cry when they see their little sleeping bags laid out on the bed. The heartless one started to laugh “clever little boys”.
10.00 Bed
10.30 Mr. Waffle in to tend to screaming child.
11.40 Princess up and crying (yes, still sick, no have not been outside the house since Sunday)
11.45 I take over from Mr. Waffle, he puts herself back to bed.
12.00 – 5.30 Mr. Waffle on Princess duty (up several times) and me on baby duty;D (up constantly as far as I can recall).
5.30 Mr. Waffle on baby duty.
5.50 Princess comes in to our bed.
6.20 Mr. Waffle puts Princess back to her own bed.
6.30 Baby wakes up -am back on baby duty until 7.30 when they fall asleep.
7.30 Mr. Waffle gets up.
8.00 Boys and I get up.

Comments
Minks, all appears to be um improving. Why am I tempting fate this way?
Sarcastic Journalist on 05 March 2006 at 04:35 That’s something like my life, just with one less child. And uh, less of my husband helping.
belgianwaffle
on 06 March 2006 at 22:28 SJ, not really, because your older child is at home with you ALL DAY. Hideous thought, I think I might die, if this happened to me.