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Mr. Waffle

More mornings

30 January, 2008
Posted in: Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

Last night the Princess arrived into our bed, most unusually, at 3.00 in the morning and stayed there alternately chatting and poking until 6.00.

This morning we had the usual chivying, hurrying and harrying to get out the door with an extra nugget of exhaustion for three of the main players. The Princess was, perversely, extremely good. I am not sure whether this is as a result of engaging in charades last night when she got to pretend to be each of us in the morning in turn. It was funny. She enjoyed our appreciative laughter but maybe she finally realised that we would like it, if she would just get dressed in the morning.

Anyhow, Mr. Waffle was tired, sick and short-tempered. Michael came out of the kitchen and said crossly “Daddy, a bit mean”. Daniel sat up in his chair. His lower lip wobbled. “What’s wrong darling?” “Daddy fâché, Daniel sad.” “What that noise?” “That’s the sound of Mummy’s heart breaking”. Alternatively, it could have been Mr. Waffle saying “Oh, for heaven’s sake, it’ll toughen them up”.  At least he’s not feeding them Calgonit; you will be pleased to hear that there appear to be no ill effects to date.

Doomed, we’re doomed

8 December, 2007
Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Work

We have decided to have a party tonight.  At short notice.  Why?  Everyone we know either a) has a life and can’t come or b) has children and can’t get a babysitter.  Unfortunately, just enough people have said they will come that we can’t call the whole thing off.  My favourite rejection email reads as follows: “Darling, If I could I would… but alas, I am in St Petersburg until Sunday afternoon.  Oh, one minute Romania and now the other end of Europe… my mind thinks I am in Romania however, although some words are similar being Slav influenced even if Latin as a root, it’s baffling my fur wearing, seal bashing friends here.”  Charming refusal or not, it’s a pity he’s in Russia though probably not for him.  Do you think we could play charades?  Only saving grace is that we spent a fortune on drink this morning which should get us over the worst.

And in other bad news stories:  I left my keys in the office yesterday and spent the best part of two hours that I has set aside for fun (I dunno, maybe cleaning the house and having a cup of tea afterwards), toing and froing to the office.  Also, trainee and I were wearing the same outfit yesterday (black skirt, bright green jumper and boots), we looked like convent school girls.   As though that weren’t bad enough, she looked much better too and not just because she is a slip of a thing 10 years younger than me but because her clothes were, dammit, nicer.  How can this be as I know for a fact that my salary exceeds R’s quite considerably?  Is it possible that money can’t buy you style?  Alas. And a previous social engagement precludes her attendance at the party too.  Sigh.

Big Plans

4 December, 2007
Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Princess

Her: When I grow up, I want to be a Madame Pipi [guardian of the toilets in Belgian bars and cinemas, you must cross her palm with silver before being allowed to proceed to the inner sanctum]
Us: Why?
Her: Because then I would get money.
Us: Good reason.

Later

Her: What’s a philosopher?
Me: Someone who wonders about the meaning of life.
Her: I want to be a philosopher when I grow up.
Him: Excellent combination with a Madame Pipi post.

Later still

Me: Is she asleep?
Him: No, she’s still bouncing around. She wants me to come back to her with the answer to a question.
Me: And what is your starter for ten?
Him: ‘Why does life exist?’

Suggestions

30 November, 2007
Posted in: Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Reading etc.

So here are your suggestions for authors, I haven’t tried:

Martin Cruz Smith

Robertson Davies

Anita Desai

William Faulkner

Richard Ford

Tove Jansson

Thomas Kenneally

Clive King (“Stig of the Dump” – assume that is name of work rather than author’s pseudonym)

Robert Le Carre

Beryl Markham (keeping up with comments)

Alexandr Solzhenitsyn

Colm Toibin (actually I have read “The Blackwater Lightship and wouldn’t mind trying another, so I’m not sure he counts).

Alan Warner

Emile Zola – My husband says I would like “Au Bonheur des Dames” it’s all about shopping and women.

Anyone else you want to suggest adding? I’ll give all of the above a go. I will add them to the list of well-reviewed, interesting sounding books which I have typed on a piece of paper and folded up in the back of my diary. You don’t believe me? Do.
So that’s it for another NaBloPoMo. Hats off to the fair Mrs. Kennedy for co-ordinating. I am not only saying that in the hope of getting a random prize.
Thank you also to my regular commenters during the month. I am hopeless at replying to comments but I love and treasure every one; without you I would have given it all up as a bad job.

The man going down to the basement to put out the laundry has just looked over my shoulder and said “NaBloPoGo”. Maybe I should stop now.

One final item of news; Daniel broke his glasses yesterday. Sigh.

In praise of gender stereotyping

23 November, 2007
Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Reading etc.

Him: We should get the car serviced and check the tyre pressure.

Me:Mmm.
Him: You’re only agreeing because you know that I’m the one who’s going to do it.

Me: Yes.

NaBloPoMo – I’m going to save W for tomorrow.  Because I can.  There are 30 days in November but only 26 letters of the alphabet.  Ha.

However, forgot to mention David Sedaris under S.  He is excruciatingly funny.  Since it is the season for it, here is a link for a funny Christmas story by Mr. Sedaris.  I cannot say how he feels about it being on the interweb but doubtless he will be much happier if it makes you go out and buy his books.

Why, why, why?

7 November, 2007
Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Princess, Reading etc., Twins

Yesterday, I went out to dinner at a friend’s house. My father often remarks that my mother has no appreciation that time is finite – I am like her.

17.30 Run out of my office to go to my husband’s office to drive together to the creche to pick up the boys (please add driving rain to get a full picture).

18.00 Arrive at the creche, pick up the boys who are cranky.

18.10 Install boys in the car. Put on “Il etait un petit navire” on the stereo at Daniel’s request.

18.15 Pick up the Princess from the childminder. At the childminder’s request, agree to drop home a little friend who has been there for the afternoon and lives near us.

18.30 Realise that I have promised to bring birthday cake tonight. Why did I do this? Any of the other attendees would have had more time. Why am I always trying to do the impossible? Brilliant husband spots an open patisserie and I zoom through the rain to snap up their two last cakes.

18.45 Drop off little friend. All three of our children begin to wail, calling her name and demanding her return.

18.50 Emerge from car in garage.

18.55 Get to lift with children and gear. Daniel becomes hysterical because he wants to push the button in the lift. Lift him up to do so. His sister becomes hysterical because she wants to do it. Put him down. He pushes her, she bites him.

19.00 Emerge from the lift into the flat. The severely reprimanded Princess retires to the “coin colere” in floods of tears but not before attempting to whack me. Daniel shows everyone his sore finger. Michael begins to demand orange juice. Mr. Waffle goes into the kitchen to cook dinner.

19.05 I comfort the hysterical Princess who is gasping between sobs “HE started it”, Daniel goes off to play peacefully on his own, grateful, doubtless, that the bite marks don’t appear to have broken the skin. Michael comes back with orange juice.

19.10 Michael is keen to avenge the wrong done to his brother and comes to lord it over his hysterical sister. “Mechante!” he says pointing an accusing finger. Then he pushes her. She pushes him back causing him to douse himself and Daniel in juice. Both begin crying hysterically. “HE started it” says the Princess, crying herself for good measure.

19.15 I wipe up the orange juice and change clothes. Daniel calms down and trots off to the kitchen to see how dinner is coming along, the other two continue to howl. I take them both on my lap and each makes spirited efforts to knock off the other while crying hysterically. Daniel comes back with some smoked salmon and solemnly hands each of them a piece. They both stop crying and start eating. I give Daniel a round of applause.

19.20 Dinner is served. It is largely tossed on the floor. I give both boys fruit puree which they let fall on their bibs on the way to their mouths. They angrily demand it be wiped up before they take any more. Daniel is particularly concerned that the large gobs he lets fall between each mouthful be speedily cleaned.

19.30 The bath! Michael comes in first saying “Pipi, pipi” and, when we have removed all his clothes, sits down on the potty which we have just installed in the bathroom in delight. He does not wee in it. After some time, Daniel arrives in and says “Pipi, pipi”. I remove Michael from the pot and put him in the bath where he stands, red in the face, bawling and gasping “Pipi, pipi”. Daniel lowers himself on to the pot with a contented smile. Michael tries to climb out of the bath and fails. The Princess is unwilling to undress and I have to pull off her clothes and put them into the laundry basket.

19.30 Michael finally sits down in the bath and wees in it. We put Daniel in with him (we have NO standards). The Princess gets into the shower. It is too hot and then too cold and we fiddle with the sensitive dial while she abuses us for our ineptitude.

19.35 Michael stands up in the bath and starts saying “Pipi, pipi”, I take him out and wash his teeth despite considerable opposition. I take him to his room while he moans “Pipi, pipi”. While putting on Michael’s pyjamas, I hear a crash from the bathroom and a wail. There was a time I might have run straight away but I am older and wiser now and I put Michael safely into his cot before running to investigate thereby denying him his chance to explore further the charms of the potty.

19.40 The Princess is howling, her father is grim faced and Daniel is gurgling happily and washing his teeth. She slipped in the shower. “Daddy was cross (waaah) with me, even though I slipped (waaaaah) and he said a bad word”. Her father points out, through clenched teeth that, if she would stop dancing in the shower this would never have happened.

19.45 The Princess is wrapped in a towel, Daniel is put to bed. Lights out for the boys.

19.50 The Princess is put into her pyjamas and comes to sit on the couch to discuss today’s smiley face. “I don’t want a smiley face”. Just as well.

19.55 Mr. Waffle puts the Princess to bed, I run to the computer to put up a post for NaBloPoMo. While it is cranking up, I clear the table and sweep the floor (yes, I have a PC, why do you ask?)

20.05 I write my post interrupted only by a trip to the boys’ room to hand a bottle to Daniel.

20.15 Mr. Waffle emerges from the Princess’s room, I go to make myself beautiful. I ruefully contemplate my filthy top and decide (after dabbing at it with a facecloth) that I will have to change it before I go out. Spend some time considering options.

20.25 I emerge and kiss goodbye to my poor husband who is doing dishes. “I’ll put out the bins later” he says sadly while I rummage in the cupboard looking for birthday candles.

20.30 I scoot along to my friend’s house which is mercifully close rehearsing my excuses for my late arrival.

20.35 I arrive. I am first.

NaBloPoMo – Welcome to G

But first, I forgot Joshua Ferris under F. “Then we came to the end” was a great first novel. It was funny and (I would love to say zeitgeisty here but I am worried that my father would hear of it and disinherit me) very contemporary evoking the rhythms of modern office life in a hyper real way (goodness, that could go straight into the LRB, I am so proud).

I also forgot John Connolly. I bought “The Book of Lost Things” as a present for my husband thinking that it was about a boy’s youthful reading experience. He didn’t like it. I picked it up and discovered it was a fantasy story – not Mr. Waffle’s cup of tea – about the interpretation of fairy tales (it reminded me a bit of Angela Carter and also “Pan’s Labyrinth”). I really loved it and I will be getting to the rest of Mr. Connolly’s work on the strength of it.

Sorry, let me reiterate – welcome to G.

G is for Gaskell. Mrs. Gaskell, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways – for you are Victorian and believe in long books, for your plots are interesting and your characters engaging, for “Cranford”, in particular. I think I almost forgive you for not finishing “North and South”.

G is for Graham Greene. There are a lot of converts to catholicism among the authors I favour. I read Graham Greene in my late teens and early 20s because my parents had a lot of them about the house. “Brighton Rock” is genuinely creepy and though I know that Graham Greene is regarded as a bit passé, I think that one really stands the test of time. I also have a weakness for “Travels with my Aunt”, so sue me.

G is also for Greer. I have never read “The Female Eunuch” but I will, really. In the interim, I enjoyed “Daddy, we hardly knew you” but no one else did, as far as I can see.

Stephen Jay Gould is an entertaining and accessible science writer and is responsible for almost everything I know about science. I rate his efforts as superior to the not inconsiderable labours of my teachers, parents and siblings. “Eight Little Piggies” is probably my favourite – it’s clever.

Last but not least is Stella Gibbons. I have only read “Cold Comfort Farm” but how I have read it. This book is anything but cold comfort, I have read it when I was sick, when I was sad, when I was desperate, when I was bored, when I was restless. I love it and it still makes me laugh. In fact, I think I might just pick it up now and head off to bed with it.

Can I say how much I appreciate your suggestions? I’m hoping to have a reading list at the end of this, you know.

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