My sister has volunteered to babysit while we’Â’re in Cork.
“Just so long as you don’t expect me to pick them up when they cry”.
on 08 December 2005 at 19:47
sure, cos like being the only adult alone in a room with 2 screaming babies is so much better than having to pick them up.
“Dear sibling,
Either you misunderstood me or are being liberal with the truth for literary purposes. If it’s the latter fine (never let the truth interfere with a good story) – if it’s the former I think you should remember I said I would give them 5 minutes of crying before I pick them up – usually babies cry more when I hold them. 5 minutes or until I get frustrated with Sudoku!
Anyway if they know what’s good for them they will not get into a battle of wills with me (for I never lose such battles).”[Editor’s note: this is, in fact, correct].
on 14 December 2005 at 16:36
This is precisely why I never write stuff about my brother on my blog.
My sons will be baptised in Cork over Christmas thus ensuring for my mother a lifetime of retrieving ecclesiastical paperwork for her grandchildren.
We’re hoping to be more prepared than we were for the PrincessÂ’’s christening. We didn’Â’t know that you needed a candle. When the crucial moment arrived, I hissed at my aunt, ““You’Â’re very religious, why didn’Â’t you tell us we needed a candle?”” ““I thought you knew”,” she hissed
back. Her highness was christened under a night light retrieved from a side altar. Your baptismal candle is supposed to enjoy further outings at your communion and confirmation. That’Â’s probably why they donÂ’t use night lights. We knew that she needed a white garment alright and proudly produced a white cot blanket. We were somewhat abashed to see that the little overachiever being christened at the same time as the Princess had an elaborate lacy number with her name embroidered on it. It was probably vomit free too.
My religious aunt is to be godmother to Daniel. I phoned her the other day to confirm dates
and times and she told me tartly that she has purchased two christening candles. Now, who will buy lacy garments and embroider their names on them?
on 09 December 2005 at 19:13
Bobble, that’s such a relief- my poor Nanny has been so worried about mine and my sisters’ eternity in limbo.
Friar Tuck
on 09 December 2005 at 19:28
Minkle, only infants get a pass. Unless you are a precocious two year-old, your Nanny should continue worrying, not about Limbo, but worse! But back to the baptismal garment, I know someone who makes their living selling handmade ones. It’s too late for flapjack and pancake, but I can put you in touch for any subsequent progeny.
kristin
(Homepage)
on 09 December 2005 at 23:06
My daughter was christened in a haze of high, high episcopalian incense, and my poor baptist mother still hasn’t recovered. She only stood the christening dress because lucy looked so adorable in it, but once the recitation of the saints started, she looked very pale. the event was particularly memorable because my sister’s hair caught fire from the candle she was holding during the procession to the font. the mom of the other baby who was being baptised that day offered to give us the videotape of kera on fire, for posterity. i think she was just jealous that lucy was such a cutie.
on 14 December 2005 at 09:13
Bob, Minks, MB, aren’t you glad that we have FT to sort these things out for us? FT, start your own blog in the new year or face dire consequences.
Kristin, that’s hilarious, superb story.
BHM, I know, I know.
Two years yesterday. Who would have thought that I would have the stamina? To celebrate I had intended to change my decor, update my favourites and do a post explaining why my favourites are all fabulous with lots of links. But it’s hard to do that with a baby in one or both hands. Maybe not so much stamina after all.
Comments
on 11 December 2005 at 21:58
Happy blogerty, ‘waf 🙂
Oh and greetings from the other side of town where the Winterpret is winding down for the night and the last of the crepes sucre from a stall just down Rue de la Bourse from St Nicolas have been Daltoned
😉 ] 
Happy Blog-versary! ���
on 12 December 2005 at 11:48
AHA! So you’ve got jd, ay? I’m sure he’ll pop in to babysit so you can redecorate the blog – if you ask him nicely.
Jack? Where are you going?
(Happy Blirthday, waffley …)
on 12 December 2005 at 13:32
Happy Anniversary! I’m hoping you have many many more (babies and) anniversaries!
A few weeks back, I caught a televised travel special (Globe Trekkers?) on Belgium. They showed a bunch of very old women making lace by throwing around little thimble things. It was absolutely amazing. Is that what Belgium is like?! If so, I’m moving immediately. And I’m hoping you’ll meet me some time for tea.
on 12 December 2005 at 22:16
Hey!! This is work, I’ve been in the a conference since 9 this morning!!
Anyway, I don’t have the a current license to drive a twin buggy…. 😉
on 12 December 2005 at 22:22
Happy Blogday Ms Waffle. You define the word ‘stamina’, so I shouldn’t worry.
on 14 December 2005 at 09:09
Thank you for good wishes and sweeties. Glad to see that you are still about JD. And conferences aren’t work.
Angela, yes thimble throwing is central to who we are in Belgium. Please come and visit.
on 14 December 2005 at 22:50
Oh yes they are! YOU try and sit through two days of rapid-fire stuff on FP7, foresight, cross-cutting thematics and ERA /ERC mechanisms and see just how much work it can be!!!!
on 15 December 2005 at 12:21
I find it more depressing than I can say that I know what these acronyms stand for. Anyway at the rate things are going, there’ll be no budget for FP7.
For example, last night the Princess sought vainly for my attention as I tried to simultaneously cook dinner and express 200mls of breastmilk (I know 200 mls, amazing eh?). ? Standing under a hot shower in the morning can lead to me spraying the walls with milk in a sort of sub-Psycho fashion (a little too much information?).
Last night, having fed the boys all evening at about 1.00 in the morning, I prodded my poor spouse awake and said “give Michael a bottle, I can’t stand it any more”.Â
At 5.00, I woke up and having fed the babies, trotted out to the kitchen to take meat out of the freezer for dinner (which I had forgotten to do last night, no, this is not a regular feature of my
nights). Â On opening the fridge, I found that the expressed bottle of breast milk was still there, which meant that Mr. Waffle had, all gasp please, given Michael formula earlier in the evening.
Since my husband had disappeared from the marital bed, I had a look round the house for him to discuss this serious matter. Found him on the couch looking up the phone book for the number of a local bookshop. He wanted to order a Princess Waffle memorial book for the creche. I had to have out the matter of expressed milk v formula so I was only momentarily distracted by the weirdness of his timing.
Me: You gave Michael FORMULA.
Him: Eh?
Me: When you gave him the bottle.
Him: Oh right.
Me: But there was expressed milk in the fridge.
Him: Sorry, missed it.
Me (purple in the face with indignation): What?
Him: Are we really arguing about this at 5.00 in the morning?
Both collapse in mildly hysterical giggles as oddness of my behaviour becomes apparent.
A little tired today…
on 14 December 2005 at 09:59
“Standing under a hot shower in the morning can lead to me spraying the walls with milk in a sort of sub-Psycho fashion”on 14 December 2005 at 12:19
I’m still overwhelmed with admiration at your ability to feed two new(ish) and hungry babies.Peggy
(Homepage)
on 14 December 2005 at 13:14
I’m very impressed by the happy ending of your story.on 14 December 2005 at 16:51
Ummm – sleeping?on 14 December 2005 at 21:59
Formula is very GOOD you know…….on 15 December 2005 at 12:27
BhM, formula is the root of all evil, don’t quibble.Friar Tuck
on 15 December 2005 at 16:28
I can remember a day in the not-so-distant past when a certain someone smugly smirked at me because I must arise at 5.30 every morning. So for the record I would just like to say that at 5.00 this morning I was snug in my bed. {smirk}on 16 December 2005 at 11:08
My agony will end. Smirk.The school boasts a big advantage for us – it’s round the corner from where we live. The Head, however, describes it as “socially mixed” and my middle class soul was a little nervous about this. Of course, I felt bad about feeling nervous and Mr. Waffle, who seems to suffer from none of the usual middle class hang-ups despite having attended fee paying private schools, said bracingly, “What would happen if everyone refused to send their children to socially mixed schools?”  Today, I discovered that one of the consequences of being “socially mixed” is that a lot of the children don’t speak French. The teacher was delighted to discover that madam a) spoke French and b) was toilet trained.  I must say, all of this unnerved me a bit but a lot of the children who don’t speak French are Polish and I found this comforting because I sort of see the Poles as like the Irish; catholic, committed to education etc., no NOT feckless.
Anyway, she’s only 2 and a half, how much of a problem can it be that half of her classmates can’t speak French? But my heart sank as we were leaving and I saw the teacher put on
“Finding Nemo”. Â Somehow it seems wrong, but, you know, good for crowd control.
kristin
(Homepage)
on 15 December 2005 at 16:51
I completely sympathize with your m-c soul and the fear of Finding Nemo. Remember, at this age it’s all socialization (btw, was nemo in french or english?) and even if it’s learning to hang out with poles and watch movies, that’s not such a bad thing to know at 2.5. and she’ll be trilingual in no time. and can i say wow about the potty training? lucy is just 3, and so ready to move on to the next class at preschool, except that she’s got to be potty trained, and she’s resisting peeing at school. sigh.
clever princess, starting school. kisses to her.
Peggy
(Homepage)
on 16 December 2005 at 10:00
You don’t mention anywhere: what was the Princess’ reaction ? Is she thrilled she will soon be going to school? Did she want to stay and watch the film with the others?
on 16 December 2005 at 11:07
FT, indeed.
Kristin, thank you, that makes me feel a lot better. Am sure your toilet training blues will pass shortly though I realise it is a pain at the moment. Nemo was in French, by the way.
Peggy, that was the worst bit, she loathed it and was like a briar for the rest of the day. I think she was slightly overwhelmed by the numbers and she said to me afterwards “That’s not my school Mummy, my school is different”. I’m not sure what she was expecting but it’s fair to say that her expectations weren’t met.