Mr. Waffle

Stream of consciousness – ok, Winter, those nice boots, what would they be good with? Right that black skirt, where is it, where is it?  Could it be in the bottom of the wardrobe with the good stuff?  Surely once you have something five years, it should be demoted, but no there it is.  OK, does it fit? Excellent.  Jesus, what is that sticky stuff on the waistband, is it something from last Christmas?   Oh God, I bet the children have got their stickly little mitts on it and all the other stuff in my good drawer.  My wedding dress is there.  Well when am I going to be wearing that again?  And the hem of that skirt is coming down.  Tum ti tum, where are the safety pins?  It’s a feature really, those little twinkling silver thingies around the hem.  OK, a top, a top.  That navy one with the sparkly bits.  Is it a bit low cut?  It’s a party, for heaven’s sake.  Goodness, that’s a lot of exposed flesh, not a lot of chest though.  Where have my breasts gone, why did I give up breast feeding?  Let me see, can I root out that ancient wonderbra.  Yes, excellent, here it is. OUCH, OUCH.  God, the underwire is poking out, goodbye ancient wonderbra.  Maybe a nice necklace to perk up the top then?  That pearly one that came free with a bottle of mineral water?  Yes.  But navy and black?  No, no.  OK, the denim skirt, sort of dress up top half, casual bottom half and at least the denim skirt isn’t sticky.  Gosh, that top really is indecent, where’s that silvery cardigan thing?  OK, that’s OK.

I emerge and face my husband.  “You look very nice” he says obediently.  “No, I want you to tell me what you really think”.  “What’s my range of options?”  “Just tell me what you think”. “Um, is the top a bit dressed up for the bottom?” “Fine”, I say and depart with something like a flounce.  The doorbell rings; it’s the babysitter.

Back in the bedroom the torrent of consciousness is reaching a crescendo.  OK, not the denim skirt, black trousers.  But they don’t go with the navy top. OK, not the navy top, the black top.  OK, but now there is actually no flesh visible of any description.  Is that good?  Hang on, with the black top, I can wear the sticky skirt.  Yes, excellent in a sort of deep mourning way.

Roll on the next party.

Last night and the night before I have been out for work dinners. This morning the Princess was sick and couldn’t go to school and Mr. Waffle stayed home and minded her. On the way to the creche I scraped the car. Was he delighted to hear, after returning home from his afternoon at work, that tonight is bookclub?

NaBlPoMo – Will it never end?

Miss Snark
I was pointed in this direction by a friend who is writing a book. It’s strangely compelling in a train wreck kind of way. If you are looking for an agent, you may be interested or you may be terrified.

My loving sister
Surviving India. Just.

I was away for work for a couple of days last week and Mr. Waffle carried out crowd control in Dublin. When I got back, I had a look through the photos taken while I was away so that I wouldn’t miss even a moment of my children’s lives.

Me: What’s the Princess wearing?

Him: It’s a new jumper I bought her.

Me: You needed to buy her a new jumper?

Him: Hey, while you was gone, I was raisin’ this family.

NaBlPoMo – More Mothers

The Sarcastic Journalist

Mother of two, mistress of the hilarious one liner. She once said (more pithily) that when giving out attention, the child who can throw things at her tends to have an advantage. This was a reasonable observation and stopped me worrying about ignoring my sons, thus allowing me additional time to fend off missiles from my daughter. She also observed, oh so truthfully, that when you have a small child, when you’re out, you’re out, which is how she ended up in the post office in dressing gown and slippers. Consider also this post on breast feeding a nine month old. Such an insight into the true nature of parenting and such excellent writing – from one so young too. She is only about 25. I try not to hold it against her.

Wet Feet

This is an odd one, for me, at least. Kateri is the mother of two little girls, who live with her; she also has another little girl whom she gave up for adoption to her lasting regret. It was an “open adoption” but it doesn’t seem to have worked out very well for Kateri who is gutted. I’d never really given much thought to adoption and its implications for everyone concerned before reading this blog and she has made me think a lot about that. She is a very different person from me. She definitely falls in the earth mother end of the spectrum (she doesn’t use disposable nappies, and this is only the beginning, people) whereas I am more at the “what’s your name again child who I only see briefly every day, oh good Lord how many of you are there?” end of the spectrum. I think she’s wrong about a lot of things and I’m sure she would think the same about me but it is interesting to read the (very definite) opinions of someone you don’t agree with most of the time. And also I do admire her coping skills as she separates from her husband and brings up her daughters and tries to do what’s best.

Me (looking up from typing): We get so little time together without the children.

Him (looking up from the paper): Hmm.

Me: Do you mind that I seem to spend most of it playing with my blog?

Him: No.

Me: Do you think I’m obsessed?

Him: No, it’s a hobby.

I’m very relieved. So, as part of my hobby, I intend to participate in National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo) as suggested by Mrs. Kennedy. I will post every day for the month of November. Go on, admit it, you’re delighted. No sarcasm, please. In the spirit of the event I have decided that I will go through my bloglines blog roll and talk about each of the blogs I read two by two. I know, you’re looking forward to it already.

Here we go with the first two:

ex20six is my first category. 20six was my first internet home and I loved it but it revamped and I left in a huff and so did some others.

Bobble

Bobble is a photographer. Her photos would pin your ears back. They are spectacular. Her blog is an insight into a sophisticated London world of banking, post office fraud (not by her, you understand) and mature students.

Let there be another leaf

Marvellous Norah. The woman who made dull office working into art. Funny art. She is a mother now and not working in an office. This is good. It has cut down on her posting. This is bad. But it looks to me like she’s gearing up to get going again.

First, Mastermind. That guy, John Humphreys is dreadful at it. I’m not sure whose idea it was to have a little banter between quizzer and quizee after the specialist and before the general knowledge rounds but it leads to dreadful results. If say, the specialised subject were “Stalin and the gulags”, John Humphreys would probably begin by saying “Stalin, not a nice chap then?”
And then, University Challenge.

Art round

Him: Oh, it’s that guy, geometric shapes, whatchamacallhim.
Me: Albers?
Him: No, no the Garnier logo.
Me: Ah, Mondrian.