belgianwaffle

Archives for March 2008

Plucky Little Belgium


Posted in: Belgium, Middle Child, Twins

Since Daniel acquired glasses, we have been spending a lot of time and money in the opticians. I’m glad it’s a nice one near home. Mostly we are served by the owner’s daughter, an efficient pleasant woman about my age. The other night, I went in to get Daniel’s glasses repaired (he and Michael had tugged them apart at the creche, it’s nice to think of them having fun) and her father was there. He was dealing with some other people and I settled down to wait, conscious all the same that Mr. Waffle was at home with three cranky children who needed dinner and bed. Finally, it was my turn.

Me: Hello, I wonder could you fix these glasses, I think you have a file on us.

Him: That’s not a Belgian accent.

Me: Er, no, it’s not, I’m from Ireland.

Him (heavily accented): Ireland, Ireland, then we can speak English.

Me (proferring deformed glasses): Mmm. Yes, if you like.

Him: Do you know Hertfordshire?

Me: Um, no, never been, I’m afraid.

Him: My father was in England during the war.

Me: The first world war?

Him (misunderstanding, I think): How old do you think I am?

Me: Um, the second world war?

Him (at cross-purposes): He died in the war.

Me: I’m sorry to hear that. In England?

Him (baffled): No, he was in England in the first world war; when he was 13.

Me (not wanting to be unsympathetic but feeling we are getting nowhere and also conscious of my loving husband and children, home alone): I see, well, I wonder, have you got a file on us?

Him (not to be deterred): He learnt to be an optician and then set up in Dendermonde when he came back.

Me: Oh Dendermonde.

Him: No, in England.

Me: Yes, I see.

Him: He died in the second world war.

Me: I’m very sorry to hear it.

Him: Yes, I was only 10.

Me (mind reprehensibly fixed on the glasses): That must have been very difficult for you.

Him: Yes, he was betrayed.

Me (surprised): By whom?

Him: He joined the résistance straight away immediately and he was betrayed by [not clear, some local perhaps]. They ask me why I do not live in Dendermonde but I know they are traitors and I can smell corruption and racism. Though, his daughter [I think the daughter of the man who betrayed his father] is a very nice woman.

Me (genuinely interested and having put the glasses to the back of my mind): How did your father die?

Him (producing formal black bordered mortuary card showing a handsome midddle-aged man): My father was taken away by the Germans and died of typhus in the camps in March 1945. I went to see him once in prison in Ghent before he was taken away. It was a hard time, the English were very good to us, an English Major and his daughter, she is an old woman now, June, but she is godmother to my daughter.

Pause.

Him: I think we’ll have to send those glasses away to be fixed.

I forget how much these things are just below the surface in Belgium where two world wars were fought. Coming from a country that was neutral in the second world war and where (aside from Northern Ireland which is a long way from Cork and, after all, another country), the last major conflict occurred over 80 years ago, I have never, in living memory, lost a relative except to illness, accident or old age. Sometimes I forget how very fortunate that makes me.

Possibly, a future as a lawyer


Posted in: Princess

Me: I am furious with you, you hit your little brother in the face.

Her: He was coming into my bedroom, I didn’t want him to come into my bedroom.

Me: That is no excuse. And how would you feel, if when you came into my bedroom in the morning and hit you in the face, hmm? What would you do?

Her: I would tell Daddy and he would telephone the police.

Him: Well, should I phone the police now and tell them what you did to Daniel.

Her: No. Children don’t go to jail.

39 today


Posted in: Family, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins, Work

Do you think you can get a card with a badge on it that says that?

I think I will launch myself into a prolonged period of mid-life crisis which I might wind-up next year when I turn 40. How enjoyable for everyone. Let us do a tally of my achievements:

Marriage

Seems sound, husband is lovely. Tick.

Children

Three is a good number, they are nice little things but tiring. Why would I want more? Why? I am 39. That appears to be a full answer. Half tick.

Career

Job is fine. I am very fond of my colleagues who are a joy to work with. Yet the actual work is only moderately interesting. I feel that out there somewhere is the perfect job for me, if only I could find it. I also think that it has nothing to do with my experience to date so it’s probably quite poorly paid, at least initially, before they realise that I am a genius at it. I am a round peg in an oval hole. Imagine what I could achieve, if I could find a round hole. I think this metaphor is becoming unfeasibly stretched. A friend of mine says that there is no perfect job which is why she has focussed on her social life. There may be something to be said for that. Half tick
Family and friends

I have lots of both. I like them, they like me. Tick. At least, I hope they do. Half tick for manifest lack of self confidence at 39.

Car

I have no desire to buy a sports car. Tick.

Hobbies

You’re reading it. I also like reading. I wish I had some form of hobby that did not involve sitting on my bottom. All through my teens and twenties, I played hockey but it’s a bit demanding for a parent. Half tick.

Feeling my age

Unlike many people of my age, I do not feel like I am 20. But yet, I am very surprised to be 39. My oldest friend the Ambassador (clang) will be 40 next month, though, mind you, she is an Ambassador so I think that’s pretty good going for a 40 year old. Almost.

My mother says that having children keeps you young. Maybe this is true when they are teenagers but at the moment, I’m not so sure. I am sometimes so tired and stretched I feel like I am 60. I also find myself criticising young people’s grammar and marvelling at their odd musical taste. Oh yes, indeedy, I am cruising towards middle age. Half tick.

In other birthday news, if you were to take a day off work and leave your children with the childminder and decamp to Ghent to celebrate your birthday, you should a) remember, if it is Monday, the museums will be closed and b) bear in mind that cities built around canals are not so pleasant in stormy weather. Furthermore, when you return home and your three children rush into your arms and sing happy birthday to you, you should try not to be overwhelmed by love and guilt.

The day has also brought a birthday poem from my sister, a birthday missive from my parents, several nice emails, a present from husband and children – pretty good all round. You could make it even better by delurking. Go on, I know you’re out there. I think you’re out there. I hope you’re out there. Half tick.

I smell a rat


Posted in: Belgium, Family

Over the weekend in our ongoing quest to entertain our children, we went to a farm. I picked up a flyer at some event and stored it carefully for a day when we were at our wits’ end.

We piled them into the car and took ourselves off having taken the initial precaution of ringing the farmer to check that the farm was open. When we arrived, there was a deer family grouped in front of the farm house, an ostrich and some ducks. So far, so delightfully inauthentic.

It was when I saw the duckpond that I began to suspect that this might be a real proper farm and not just a petting zoo. It was made of polythene with old tyres holding it in place. A trip into the farm yard confirmed my worst suspicions, it was a working farm.

It was slightly dilapidated and there were a lot of cows. There were also a number of dogs running about, in my experience, the mark of a real farm. The children did not like the dogs though they were unusually quiet for farm dogs and very well trained.

The farmer told us to stroll around (the grounds until we felt at home) and didn’t charge us. This was definitely a real farm. There were an extraordinary number of bunnies in cages which, I suppose, is not a standard farm feature but the rest was quite authentic, just that bit too authentic for our two boys who clambered into our arms and refused to get down. I was astounded to see the Princess patting a horse on the nose but the boys were too terrified even to approach it. She also inspected the pigs and boars (yes, really) with interest. There seemed to be a lot of bulls in reasonably enclosed spaces only separated from us by a number of troughs and I was a little concerned by this, especially since they seemed a bit annoyed.

At one point a rat sauntered across the yard. Unlike its city cousins which, in my experience, are always decent enough to scurry, this rat seemed to be in no particular hurry although there were two terriers on its tail. It may have been that its enormous bulk stopped it from moving at any speed. This may also have inhibited the terriers from trying a little harder. They sniffed lackadaisically at the shed it had strolled into but I didn’t feel that they were trying hard enough.

We decided to go to farm shop. This was a proper outhouse (no tasteful wooden decorations here) with a large vat of milk presided over by a Polish woman who spoke limited French. I was hoping for some local cheese or a loaf of rustic artisanal bread, ideally untouched by ratty, but the price list she handed us was heavy on butter and buttermilk. We bought two litres of milk from the vat, happy in the knowledge that we had met the cows that produced it and their friend the rat.

You know, I can’t help feeling that getting too close to the production processes takes from the romance of food. Also, those farmers, they deserve everything they get from the CAP.

Technological disaster


Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Princess, Reading etc., Twins, Youngest Child

Michael was sick today and, this morning, he knocked over the telly while whizzing round the room on his little car. Not sick enough, clearly.

Anyhow, this afternoon when I was in charge, I promised Peter Pan to himself and his sister (poor old Daniel was off at the creche) but it turned out that the telly didn’t like being pushed over by Michael’s car and it resolutely refused to come on. It’s not like it owes us much; Mr. Waffle bought it second hand in 1995.
I moved the couch and sat them in front of the computer. Typing T’choupi into google leads to a series of cartoons on youtube about the wholesome mole. I put herself in charge of the computer and tripped in and out between the kitchen where I was making dinner and the invalid on the couch and his sister. All went pretty well though I had to turn off the rap version of Noddy she’d managed to click on and some fairly alarming looking anti McDonald’s stuff.

I told my loving husband later.

Him (outraged): You left our four year old to wander round the internet unsupervised?

Me (defensively): She’s nearly five.

Finally, I have taken this from Jando. I have reproduced her post below because there is a risk that you might not follow the link and this is the funniest thing I have seen in quite some time. I particularly liked the bit about the goats.

Before you decide to have children, try these 14 simple tests.

Test 1
Women : To prepare for pregnancy, put on a dressing gown and stick a beanbag down the front. Leave it there for 9 months.
After 9 months remove 5% of the beans.

Men: To prepare for children, go to a local chemist, tip the contents of your wallet onto the counter and tell the pharmacist to help himself.
Then go to the supermarket. Arrange to have your salary paid directly to their head office. Go home.
Pick up the newspaper and read it for the last time.

Test 2
Find a couple who are already parents and berate them about their methods of discipline, lack of patience, appallingly low tolerance levels and how they have allowed their children to run wild.
Suggest ways in which they might improve their child’s sleeping habits, toilet training, table manners and overall behavior.
Enjoy it. It will be the last time in your life that you will have all the answers.

Test 3
To discover how the nights will feel:
1. Walk around the living room from 5pm to 10pm carrying a wet bag weighing approximately 4 – 6kg, with a radio turned to static (or some other obnoxious sound) playing loudly.
2. At 10pm, put the bag down, set the alarm for midnight and go to sleep.
3. Get up at 12pm and walk the bag around the living room until 1am.
4. Set the alarm for 3am.
5. As you can’t get back to sleep, get up at 2am and make a cup of tea.
6. Go to bed at 2.45am.
7. Get up again at 3am when the alarm goes off.
8. Sing songs in the dark until 4am.
9. Put the alarm on for 5am. Get up when it goes off.
10. Make breakfast.
Keep this up for 5 years. LOOK CHEERFUL.

Test 4
Dressing small children is not as easy as it seems:
1. Buy a live octopus and a string bag.
2. Attempt to put the octopus into the string bag so that no arms hang out.
3. Time allowed for this: 5 minutes.

Test 5
Forget the BMW and buy a practical 5-door wagon.
And don’t think that you can leave it out on the driveway spotless and shining. Family cars don’t look like that.
1. Buy a chocolate ice cream cone and put it in the glove compartment and leave it there.
2. Get a coin. Insert it into the CD player.
3. Take a box of chocolate biscuits; mash them into the back seat.
4. Run a garden rake along both sides of the car.

Test 6
Getting ready to go out:
1. Wait
2. Go out the front door
3. Come back in again
4. Go out
5. Come back in again
6. Go out again
7. Walk down the front path
8. Walk back up it
9. Walk down it again
10. Walk very slowly down the road for five minutes.
11. Stop, inspect minutely and ask at least 6 questions about every piece of used chewing gum, dirty tissue and dead insect along the way.
12. Retrace your steps
13. Scream that you have had as much as you can stand until the neighbours come out and stare at you.
14. Give up and go back into the house.
15. You are now just about ready to try taking a small child for a walk.

Test 7
Repeat everything you say at least 5 times.

Test 8
Go to the local supermarket.
Take with you the nearest thing you can find to a pre-school child.
A full-grown goat is excellent. If you intend to have more than one child, take more than one goat.
Buy your weekly groceries without letting the goat(s) out of your sight.
Pay for everything the goat eats or destroys.
Until you can easily accomplish this, do not even contemplate having children.

Test 9
1. Hollow out a melon
2. Make a small hole in the side
3. Suspend the melon from the ceiling and swing it side to side
4. Now get a bowl of soggy cornflakes and attempt to spoon them into the swaying melon while pretending to be an aeroplane.
5. Continue until half the cornflakes are gone.
6. Tip the rest into your lap, making sure that a lot of it falls on the floor.
7. You are now ready to feed a 12-month old child.

Test 10
Learn the names of every character from the Wiggles, Barney, Teletubbies and Disney.
Watch nothing else on television for at least 5 years.

Test 11
Can you stand the mess children make? To find out:
1. Smear peanut butter onto the sofa and jam onto the curtains
2. Hide a fish behind the stereo and leave it there all summer.
3. Stick your fingers in the flowerbeds and then rub them on clean walls.
4. Cover the stains with crayon.
5. How does that look?

Test 12
Make a recording of someone shouting ‘Mummy’ repeatedly.
Important: No more than a 4 second delay between each Mummy – occasional crescendo to the level of a supersonic jet if required.
Play this tape in your car, everywhere you go for the next 4 years.
You are now ready to take a long trip with a toddler.

Test 13
Start talking to an adult of your choice.
Have someone else continually tug on your shirt hem or shirt sleeve while playing the Mummy tape listed above.
You are now ready to have a conversation with an adult while there is a child in the room.

Test 14
Put on your finest work attire.
Pick a day on which you have an important meeting. Now:
1. Take a cup of cream and put 1 cup of lemon juice in it
2. Stir
3. Dump half of it on your nice silk shirt
4. Saturate a towel with the other half of the mixture
5. Attempt to clean your shirt with the same saturated towel
6. Do not change, you have no time.
7. Go directly to work

Talking in code


Posted in: Mr. Waffle

Him (wrestling children): Wonders of the peninsula later?

Me: OK.

Him: What would you like?

Me: The stockpiled rubbish town speciality.

Small prize, if you can work out what I will be having for dinner.