Princess

My standards have fallen considerably since I wrote this post.

15 February, 2004
Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Princess

Last night we went out for dinner for Valentine’s day. Mr. Waffle’s parents had kindly agreed to babysit, the Princess was almost entirely recovered from her bug and things were looking promising.

Then I got a phone call. A friend had been in Brussels during the week and had spent an afternoon with us. When he was here, he mentioned that both of his children were down with chickenpox. It never occurred to me that he might be infectious. I assumed he had had it. I would never in my wildest dreams go to visit a small child where there was the slightest risk that I might give them something. I assumed that, as a parent, he would apply the same standard. Apparently not. I am incandescent with rage. What a stupid, thoughtless thing to do. Mr. Waffle has indicated that this man is never coming near us again without a medical certificate. On the plus side, it appears that chicken pox in children is usually not very serious, on the negative side our internet research reveals that it is most infectious in the day or two before the spots come up, i.e. exactly when this wretched man was visiting and sharing biscuits with our Princess, so, odds on, the poor thing will get it. Furthermore, the incubation period is 10 to 20 days, so she will probably get it when we were supposed to be going on our skiing holiday, so no skiing for us.

Armed with this alarming information we went out to dinner. We could only get a booking for 9.30, so we were both kind of hungry. I had come down with the Princess’s cold so I had a sore throat, headache etc., slightly improved by paracetemol consumption. The restaurant was (understandably) heaving. We had to wait to be escorted to our table in a distant and less glam part of the restaurant, nobody took our coats which sat on the radiator alongside us for the duration (except when the slid down on top of us). Our wine failed to materialise until we had nearly finished our main course. When we asked where it had gone our waitress gave us two glasses of white. We had ordered red. We had been given someone else’s bottle. The red, when it finally arrived, was almost undrinkable. We had ordered water but never got glasses for it despite repeated efforts to grab a waitress. Starters were expensive and mediocre, main course was, in fact, fine. However, when we were offered the dessert menu, for the first time ever, I said, no just the bill, thanks. To get to the bathroom, I had to wait for two members of staff to finish a blazing row (apparently some people had left without paying the bill – could you blame them?). Naturally, our conversation over dinner related almost exclusively to chicken pox (which, I concede was not the fault of the restaurant) which is not romantic, I think you will agree. We had a miserable time. I’d rather have gone to Mona Lisa Smile again.

Things are much better today, you will be glad to hear. Princess is completely well again (except for the threat of chicken pox, of course) and weather is lovely. I am on the mend and the Princess has gone out for a walk with her father and grandparents leaving me the run of the house, the Sunday papers and a couple of croissants. It could be a lot worse.

Illness, it never sleeps

13 February, 2004
Posted in: Princess

The parents-in-law have just arrived and have headed out to “flâner around the quartier” as they put it themselves. It is nice to have doting grandparents on the premises. They admired her beauty, general brilliance and conversational ability. They even admired her hair.

The Princess sleeps. The poor little thing is, alas,sick. Last night she had a temperature of around 40 degrees and her little body was like a hot water bottle, even her toes were radiating heat. However, stoic as ever, she was quite cheerful and lay on her back toasting and singing to herself. Mr. Waffle said “at least she seems happy”. I said “well maybe she’s delirious”. “Good grief” he said “a problem for every solution”. This is true, I fear. She is much better today but I hope that she will be well enough for us to skip out and abandon her tomorrow night…poor baby.

Comments

nicola

on 13 February 2004 at 18:47

She’ll be fine! Remember last time she was sick and I was there, I too kept saying ‘at least she’s cheerful’ …!

belgianwaffle

on 15 February 2004 at 11:50

Ok, Mink and Nic, you were right she is fine, but see next post re chicken pox disaster..

Eyesore

10 February, 2004
Posted in: Princess

If you have a baby, you will be familiar with the curse of conjunctivitis. If not, you are wandering through life in blissful ignorance. Lucky old you. At the end of last year, the Princess had an accumulation of green stuff in one eye. A kind of trail of snot from the eye as the Glam Potter so eloquently put it. This accompanied by pinkness and unhappy babiness is conjunctivitis. It is supposed to be very contagious. So, the first time she had it I washed all her clothes/bed clothes, wiped all her toys with disinfectant and rinsed all her soft toys. A bit of a herculean task, I can tell you. The second time she got it, I was less thorough (I mean, she had got it again, so, clearly, my previous efforts were in vain) but still reasonably thorough. She got it again at the weekend. I said to Mr. Waffle “Well, it’s obviously not that contagious, neither of us have ever got it”. Hubris, fate, kismet, all these things were lurking round the corner. I have it. Both eyes. I can wipe out the trail of snot (something the Princess is less good at) but I still look like a battered spouse who’s been crying her eyes out. I am actively contemplating wearing dark glasses. On the plus side, the Princess is better now. I am a bit worried about the cleaning up operation, I don’t suppose that it will be as thorough as it was in the past. Now that the Princess is more mobile, her little hands get everywhere. However, I suppose our hygiene standards are not what they once were in any event (as we observed only the other day while we sat watching her eating a beer mat).

And in other weird injuries, my right hand seems to have seized up a bit. I mentioned it to the Glam Potter who said that she and her sister-in-law suffer from this also and her sister-in-law’s GP says a lot of mothers suffer from it and it’s hormonal. Superb. I hope it clears up before we go off on our skiing trip. I can see myself on piste, exhausted after a trying night with the Princess, trying to “plant my baton” (this is how French ski instructors speak) with my sore hand. Great.

On a positive note, Mr. Waffle’s parents are coming for a long weekend. We’re looking forward to having them and not just for the babysitting…however, we will take advantage of their babysitting abilities so I expect the weekend to be a whirl, nay, a vortex, of dissipation.

Comments

oneideaperday

on 10 February 2004 at 18:20

Oh, I wish that I’d seen your blog before today! Just been to Brussels for the weekend and was looking for recommendations of stuff to do. I plan to go back in May, so will be asking for advice then! Currently suffering from a surfeit of mussels – damn nice though.

belgianwaffle

on 11 February 2004 at 12:22

Thanks Minkleberry. You will be pleased to hear that she is better and I am definitely on the mend. You appreciate the misery of conjunctivitis, you will make an EXCELLENT mother!
Hi,oipd, will be happy to provide as much advice as I am able for your May trip. Weather is much nicer in May, so if you liked Feb, you will love May… 0

What do you do all day?

6 February, 2004
Posted in: Princess, Work

This is something that the working world wants to know. I will tell you.

I bring about present inflation. You know the way there is always someone who has the perfect present, beautifully wrapped? I have become that person. I spend my days buying tasteful gifts and wrapping them in attractive paper (not very beautifully wrapped I must concede as I am no good at that). I buy presents for godchildren, birth presents, birthday presents, wedding presents, christening presents, you name the occasion, I am out there buying a gift. Scarcely a week goes by when I am not in a shop selecting something light (a lot of our presents need to be posted) but wonderful.

I buy sewing machines. A picture of the machine is below:

It may not be there forever as I think I only have a certain amount of space for pictures on 20six, so feast your eyes on it now, while it’s there. You will be relieved to hear that, in exchange for a well-spent tenner, the nice men who delivered it carted it up the stairs as well. I was round at the Glam Potter’s yesterday and she is very keen to inspect my purchase and will be over next week to admire. The Glam Potter is very arty and has sealed bids in auction houses all over Brussels. Her house is full of interesting things she has picked up in unusual places. I would like to go to an auction with her, but, you will recall, we don’t need any more furniture. I think Mr. Waffle may come over all Victorian and forbid me to fraternise with her futher if I start buying things at auction with her.

I cook, as discussed in an earlier posting. The other night I went into the kitchen saying “I’ll just check on dinner.. oh, doesn’t the sewing machine look nice in the hall?” Mr. Waffle asked “Are these words you ever, in your wildest dreams, thought that you would utter?” I must say, the answer to this is no.

Occasionally, I apply for jobs.

Often, I meet people for lunch. A friend said recently that when he hears the expression “ladies who lunch” he thinks of me. Hmm.

I wash clothes. This is a judgement on me. When I was growing up, my mother used to complain that I would throw things in the wash when I had only worn them for five minutes. I used to think, well what is the problem here, we have a washing machine… Now, everyday, I put on two washes and then bring them down to the basement to the drier and then put the clothes away. Now, ok, now, I’m sorry, that I was a stroppy teenager (I am reminded here of an Ogden Nash poem on adolesence, and if you click on this link, you too can read the poem). We are the grubbiest, or possibly, the cleanest, depending on how you look at it, family in Belgium. Every evening the laundry basket is empty. Every morning it is full to the brim. It is a cornucopia of dirty laundry, it never runs out. I’m thinking of buying a larger laundry basket.

Sometimes, I go to the art gallery.

I blog. I email. My emailing is not great though. My responses are usually deemed inadequate and far too short. I just can’t work up the enthusiasm for long emails. I tend to reply “yes” to two page missives and my correspondents get a little tetchy.

I mind the Princess.

I read, a bit.

I talk on the phone, although this has become more difficult since the Princess has discovered how to hang up the phone.

So now you know.

If you have not yet been the recipient of my largesse, hold your breath because, probably, even now, a tasteful, light gift is winging its way to you.

Comments

Thierry

on 07 February 2004 at 10:47

I love the way you write!
Speaking of art, don’t forget to visit the “Khnopff” exhibition at the “Mus?e d’ Art Ancien”, rue Royale.
And speaking of art auctions, you can find all the details (dates, address)each week in Thursday’s “Le Soir” (suppl?m?nt “Immo”) (^_^)
http://bruxelles-ma-ville.skynetblogs.be/

belgianwaffle

on 07 February 2004 at 12:28

Thierry, you are very kind. Thank you for info on Le Soir, we only get it on Saturday, so now will have to go for Thursday also. Will alert the Glam Potter. Must stop buying furniture though…

Salt and Paper

28 January, 2004
Posted in: Princess

We went to the paediatrician on Monday.? Princess Waffle is 8 very heavy kilos and 70 cms. She is, you will all be delighted to hear, the picture of health. The paediatrician asked whether I had any questions. Note this conversation was in English.

Me – She likes to eat paper, is that normal?

Him – Um, no, not really that is quite unusual, why do you give her paper to eat?

Me – Well, we don’t give her paper, she just finds it and eats it.

Him – (Looking at me a bit oddly as though having paper lying round the house is a weird thing..) Does she like salt?

Me?- (thinking, does paper taste of salt?) Well, I don’t know really, she doesn’t eat a lot of salt.

Him – Long digression on why salt is a bad thing. But yes this pepper thing, it’s really unusual…

Me – No, no, not pepper, PAPER.

Him – Ah (dawning enlightment), yes that’s completely normal, newspaper is the worst because then their faces get all black.

Well that’s alright then.

Had a friend to stay from Ireland last night.? This morning she said “Oh, the baby’s drooling on you! Quick, quick, get a cloth.” I realised that my standards have gone screaming downhill. I never bother mopping up drool, I just let it dry naturally. I have stopped wearing black though. Drool shows on black.

Picture of Doggy to follow in due course over in photo section (await moment when Princess is sleeping with him). Anyone able to tell me where I might find a duplicate Doggy may get one, or possibly two sweeties. Fab new dragon photos will also follow. I’m sure that you’re on the edges of your seats out there.

Comments

belgianwaffle

on 29 January 2004 at 15:20

Ok, stop it, you’re scaring me..

Religion and Doggy

25 January, 2004
Posted in: Princess

Today the Waffle family decided to go to mass together. The journey was fraught with difficulty. Firstly, getting out of the house in time for 12.15 mass is, frankly, a struggle. 12.20 saw us circling the church looking for parking. Mr. Waffle noticed an ominous smell emanating from the back seat. Sure enough, the Princess had produced her statutory dirty nappy at difficult moment. Mr. Waffle nobly volunteered to drive her home and change her (this can be done in the car, but it’s quite nasty) and left me off to commune with my maker.

I realised, shortly after hopping out of the car, that I had left my wallet behind. The church is approached via a gauntlet of optimists wishing you a “bon dimanche” and holding out an array of styrofoam cups. I had no change. There was some unhappy muttering in the ranks but I reached the church unscathed. There was a special collection. It was for deprived children. The director of the charity was there to tell us about its founder (he saved Jewish children from the concentration camps during the war, was captured and tortured by the Gestapo but survived) and his legacy (children’s homes all over Belgium, good works etc.) and to ask for our support. The congregation opened their wallets. The air was full of the sound of crinkling notes (rather than the more normal clinking sounds that accompany the regular collection for church maintenance). I put my head in my handbag. There wasn’t even any change rolling round the bottom. I looked at the floor as the altar boy shoved the plate under my nose and my neighbours retrieved large denomination notes from their Gucci and Prada wallets (this is a very posh church…). All very dreadful. And I still had to face the styrofoam army on the way out.? Felt very bad.

Spent the afternoon wandering around the center trying to find a soft toy for the Princess. Not any old soft toy, you understand. As you know, our baby does not sleep through the night. However, on the plus side she goes to bed at 7.30 without a whimper. This is marvellous. We have dinner in peace, we read the papers and our books, we watch University Challenge. The reason for this bliss is the (imaginatively named) Doggy. We give her Doggy, she grabs his ear and closes her eyes. It’s a small miracle. But recently, we have begun to be haunted by the worry that she might lose Doggy (he travels with us when we go away). What would we do? You have no idea how sad you become when you have a small baby. We contacted the friends who had given us Doggy and asked where they got him. They were surprised and, I think, mildly gratified to discover that their gift had played such an important role in maintaining our sanity but, alas, had no very clear recollection of where they had bought Doggy. We followed their imprecise directions and found nothing except a large and, somewhat expensive, wooden dragon which the Princess enjoyed banging loudly on a cafe table. Not conducive to sleep then. The search for Doggy 2 continues.

Comments

princessfairytoes

on 26 January 2004 at 22:21

post a picture of doggy, someone may be able to help.

Nicola Doherty

on 28 January 2004 at 14:42

Post a picture of the wooden dragon as well. It sounds fab – I want one!

belgianwaffle

on 28 January 2004 at 15:16

Locotes, this is clearly a Cork tradition and, quite frankly, a scary one for parents. As suggested by kind princessft, I am going to post a pic, so that will be something to look forward to. Dragon also for Nic.