belgianwaffle

Siblings

Feckless brother


Posted in: Siblings

My brother is one of these people who always lands on his feet.  Even though he’s feckless. Very feckless. He was in London with a friend recently and he left his wallet on a table at the entrance to an art exhibition.  He decided that it was bound to be whipped so he went up to a random policeman to ask where he should go to report it lost and yer man looked at him asked him his name and where he lost it.  Inevitably some virtuous londoner had just given it to the policeman and he handed it over. How lucky is that?

However, got this mail from him yesterday: “”Lost my damn phone on Friday, left it on the roof of my car with my wallet and drove off- Aaaarrrrggghie. Unlike you I haven’t found that the absence of a mobile phone has had a liberating effect on the spirit.  Will probabally get a new one tomorrow.” Or he could just wait until someone drives round to his house to give him back the old one.

Comments
NorahSplog

on 28 September 2004 at 15:18

Brothers were invented purely to be slightly too lucky, and sisters were invented so brothers had someone to crow to.

silveretta

on 28 September 2004 at 15:52

That’s what my sister says about me. No – wait a minute. That’s something else.

Friar Tuck

on 29 September 2004 at 05:18

And he probably doesn’t even attend Mass every Sunday, with or without a restless child. It just ain’t fair!

on 29 September 2004 at 10:49

HJB, the Swiss, you have to admire them..
Norah, accurately observed.
Silver, you might say that, I couldn’t possibly comment.
FT, of course, he doesn’t go to mass every Sunday, in fact he only goes when he’s in Cork for the w/end and my mother gets him out with a cattle prod.

Not anchored down in Alaska


Posted in: Siblings

I’ll be back to Sicily later but in the interim, must tell you about my sister who is off on a cruise from Vancouver to Alaska. She has gone alone (this is the problem with earning twice as much as your contemporaries, you want to go on holidays they can’t afford) and is almost the only single person on board. The other passengers consist almost entirely of couples on honeymoon and elderly souls spending the inheritance before their kiddies get their grubby mitts on it.

Highlights have included lots of glaciers, icebergs and a plane ride around Mt McKinley (I told you that it was an expensive holiday).

Lowlights have included the singles night when she and 7 ladies in their sixties were the only attendees. Apparently the event ended earlier than scheduled.

Paying a positively obscene amount of money for a single supplement (of course, she now understands why they discourage singles).

Seeing staff remove the two beds from an adjoining room, remove the carpet and enter with a new one – only possible explanation someone has been very violently ill (my suggestion that a wave may have come through the window was dismissed with scorn – “we don’t have windows down here”. Mother of God, for that kind of money she doesn’t even get a window.).

Hearing an elderly couple who have adopted her for the trip describe attending an event entitled the marriage game. Given the demographics of their audience, she feels that they could easily have skipped the “where is the most exciting place you ever had sex” question.

I bring you this news from Juneau, Alaska from whence she just rang me on her mobile. I find that a little weird. She tells me that for a place that is connected to nowhere by road, Juneau has a lot of traffic. So now you know.

Thank you for not smoking


Posted in: Family, Siblings

A series of unrelated ramblings which are all, somewhat tenuously, connected by my family (no pun intended).

My sister is thinking of changing her phone number. She has only just got it, but it appears that the previous owners were bad debtors. She has been fielding calls all week from annoyed credit agencies. On Saturday night she got a call asking whether she would take “a collect call from Will”. She doesn’t know any Will, so she said no and hung up. A couple of minutes later she got another call would she “take a collect call from Will?”. She said no and hung up. The phone rang again would she take a “collect call from Will”? She decided that unless she spoke to Will, this could go on all night so she said “ok”. A recorded voice then told her “please be aware that this call is being made from inside Cook County correctional facility”. She decided not to talk to Will after all. Clearly, these people were very bad debtors.

Things continue to be uneventful on the job front. Got this email from my brother:

“How are you, are you job hunting like crazy or has the extended period of  unemployment induced apathy? How’s the Princess getting on, has she done anything that a godfather should know about like walk, talk, got teeth/hair, or got a new job (at this rate she’ll probably enter the labour market before you)”

I am beginning to feel that he might be right.

My mother has laughed cruelly at our holiday plans. “Why on earth would you stay in Dungarvan?” she asked between snorts of hysterical laughter. I appreciate that Dungarvan may not have the cachet of West Cork or the wilds of Kerry but, I’m sure it will be lovely. While I’m speaking of West Cork cachet, I heard the following mildly amusing story about one of the local hotels in Schull. The hotel bar was open on Good Friday which it shouldn’t have been (Ireland is a catholic country in fits and starts). The car park was full to bursting as parched punters from all over the county turned up for an illicit pint. They furtively drank their drinks in the full knowledge that by being on the premises they were committing a variety of offences.  However, there was one offence that was not committed, the car park was full of smokers dutifully complying with the smoking ban and having their fags outside.

Finally, went to the paediatrician the other day where the Princess was pronounced healthy and bouncing. She weighs 8.3kgs, measures 72cms and got a shot. That was very traumatic for me, but she didn’t seem to mind much. She opened her mouth to howl and her face went ominously purple but then she decided not to bother. My daughter is the picture of bravery.

Comments
Locotes

on 28 April 2004 at 18:42

Who would have thought Dungarvan would have an official website – how the times are a changin’. I don’t have a problem with the place myself – though I suppose it lacks a bit of glamour alright. When are you heading over?
By the way, your brother was a bit cheeky wasn’t he? Personally I think he deserves your wrath more than your sister…silveretta: pavement smoking is alive and well, and yes at times you have to fight your way through the crowds. Still delighted with the ban though.

belgianwaffle

on 29 April 2004 at 14:58

Actually, haven’t been in Ireland since the smoking ban arrived (well, was there for day 1 but then hightailed it back to Belgium) so am not really sure what it’s like…but am very enthused by forcing unfortunate smokers out into the rain.
Locotes, do you have a younger brother…they’re all like that – am struck by a sudden thought – you are a younger brother, aren’t you?

Locotes

on 29 April 2004 at 21:50

I sound like an older brother? No you were right the first time – I do have a younger brother. He’s more a messy slob…though he can be a cheeky bastards as well now I think about it.Well if you’re a non-smoker you HAVE to get out and about and make the most of it. A great feeling. Even more amusing to watch friends depart on their lonesome to the cold outside. Har har. Not that I laugh in their face or anything. That’s just rude.

belgianwaffle

on 30 April 2004 at 08:57

Yes, indeed, the younger brother, Cork model, your only man. Can’t wait to see smoking ban in operation. Am a cruel fascist non-smoker. Clearly.

Sibling rivalry


Posted in: Siblings

I talked to my sister yesterday as she was taxiing back to the office after her trip to Canada.  She’s just moved into her new flat in Chicago and is most pleased with herself.  I asked whether she was going to finish off her unpacking this week and she said that she thought not.  Why not?  She has to go to Mexico for a couple of days tomorrow.

“It’s only work” she said.

But still, very exotic.

“You know” she said “really important people get not to travel”.

Yes, I know, but still.

“Will you be able to get a flight to get you back Friday night so’s you can finish your unpacking?”

Mild hesitation “well, yeah, probably, because I’m getting the company plane”.

I see.

“Anyway, what have YOU been doing today?”

“Well, let me see, I spent about half an hour lying on my stomach in the hall trying to fish out with a hanger the following things which the Princess had let fall into the lift shaft – a rubber ball, a plastic book and my car keys.”

“Oh, right.  Well, how’s the job hunt going?”

“I got a rejection letter today from a leading firm of consultants, it said

‘We have given your application thorough consideration, but regret to inform you that, in spite of your excellent qualifications and outstanding experience, we have no position corresponding to your particular skills.
However, we have not doubt that, with your experience and professional expertise, you will soon find the challenge you are looking for.'”

“Well,” she said gamely, “that’s quite a positive rejection”

“It was addressed to Mr., do you think that they really gave my application thorough consideration”

“Er, no, probably not then.  Reading anything good?”

“Not really, just finished ‘Jude the Obscure’ on tape in the car.  He dies but not before all his children commit suicide”

“You know, I’m just arriving, maybe talk to you at the weekend…”

Comments

jackdalton

on 17 April 2004 at 11:15

Yeah and everyone gets fungal infections from the water in Mexico city…. And the food is only middling.

belgianwaffle

on 17 April 2004 at 14:06

Thanks gentlemen. I am cheered by your comments – I am a bad sister…

jackdalton

on 18 April 2004 at 18:59

No. You are a good sister. If she were my sister, I’d block her calls.

belgianwaffle

on 19 April 2004 at 15:39

Did I mention that she’s my younger sister?

Breastfeeding


Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings

I feel compelled to share my breast feeding experience with the world. Ok, with the three of you who are reading.

Before the Princess was born, like all good aspiring parents we did an ante-natal course. Part of this involved a session with a breast-feeding counsellor. The whole thing was organised by the BCT which is related to the UK childbirth trust. They are very right on in the BCT. They do not believe in infant formula or pain relief. But that was fine then because I was ignorant (forced to admit that I was NEVER going to do the natural birth thing) and didn’t believe that there would be any difficulty.

The breastfeeding counsellor was a Canadian who also teaches yoga. She refuses to use Nestle products because of their general vileness in promoting formula consumption in the third world. I don’t want to sound prejudiced here, but I think this tells you a lot about the type of person she was. I mean, it’s not that I’m in favour of Nestle’s policies or against yoga. I also have nothing against Canadians. No truly, Mr. Waffle was born in Canada and due to their generous citizenship policy has a Canadian passport of which he is very proud. I digress. Anyhow, we all sat around wondering whether we would have to bare our breasts (this was before our first babies were born and we still had a sense of natural modesty). No, but we did have to talk about our breastfeeding history. Was I breastfed? In fact, yes. Mr. Waffle was not breastfed but his siblings were. Ms. BF Counsellor was fascinated “really and is there any difference between how you and your siblings have turned out?” Mr. Waffle, thoughtfully “well, they’re both shorter than me”. Ms. BFC, hissing, “well, I’m sure that that has nothing to do with breastfeeding”. She kind of left us alone after that except to make a number of comments on the famous Irish love of alcohol, which was a little odd and didn’t exactly endear her further to us.

Anyhow, I intended to breastfeed and really didn’t expect to have any problems. And, if I had, hey, I could always give the baby a bottle. The Princess was born and, as you will have noticed, she is the most perfect baby ever created etc. And she was tiny (I know, they’re all tiny) and she was so indignant and kind of miserable to be out in the world where people made her wear scratch mittens. And I was desperate to breastfeed her and comfort her. But we just could not get the hang of it (note how I share the blame here). And she kept losing weight. They wouldn’t let me leave the hospital until she started putting on weight. After 6 days, I was getting desperate. All of the nurses were really supportive and helpful. Except one. She was horrible.? Even her colleagues thought she was horrible. So imagine my horror when I came back to my room after a quick trip out to find this awful nurse feeding my Princess from a bottle. I was gutted. Princess, was loving it though. Let’s remember she was starving. Rotten nurse was very smug. Princess started to put on weight and we were allowed to go home.

I was in a dilemma then. Would I continue feeding my baby from the evil bottle or would I try breast? Fabulous as breast milk was etc., I didn’t want the child to starve. I rang my mother who dispensed lots of advice. She came to Brussels to dispense advice in person. But I just couldn’t get the hang of it. And it was sore? Man, it was sore. This is where the internet becomes a nightmare, it is full of smug sites advising “breastfeeding isn’t supposed to hurt, if it hurts, you are doing it incorrectly and your child is not being properly fed”. So I was in agony and she was starving. We continued on a mostly bottle regime with occasional breast agony. Cabbage leaves are recommended for sore breasts. I tried this out one evening. We went round to the Glam Potter’s for dinner. She has a baby six weeks older than the Princess, so is also in baby mode. Halfway through dinner, her husband said, “where is that awful smell of boiled cabbage coming from?” It was me, the cabbage had cooked on my poor, sore, inflamed breasts. You’d think I’d be mortified, but no, I said “Oh that must be me”, hauled out the cabbage leaves and left them on a side plate. In extenuation, I would point out that GP was having difficulty breast feeding also and, like me, liable to haul our her breasts and baby at the slightest provocation and ask strangers where she was going wrong. If you might take my advice on this, hold off doing that because there are people out there to whom I now regret showing my breasts (this must be what it’s like to be a minor starlet).

So desperate was I that I rang the breast feeding counsellor. She said, “oh it’s too late now – this was about a month in – you’ll never get her to take breast. Why did you give her a bottle in the first place?” I explained about her losing weight, the hospital, the paediatrician’s concerns. She said “you must change your paediatrician to one who supports breast feeding”. This wasn’t really the advice I was looking for. It just made me feel bad. Mr. Waffle suggested I invite her over for a cup of Nestle instant coffee and a kitkat as revenge.

Finally, I found something on the internet. Corky, a very appropriate name in the circumstances, has a free on-line latch on video. And it’s brilliant, it saved my bacon and I finally got the hang of breastfeeding. And despite the fact that my baby had lots and lots of bottles over a two month period, from month 3 on she became an exclusively breastfed baby and I stopped having sore breasts. So, for what it’s worth, these people who say that your baby will never go back to breast after getting a bottle are wrong. So, don’t be disheartened if it doesn’t work out at first. And even if it doesn’t work out at all, I don’t think it really matters that much (although I defy anyone to think that when they are holding their precious new born infant). After all Mr. Waffle was bottle fed and he turned out very tall…

So given my triumph in breastfeeding my baby, I am somewhat reluctant to give up. The WHO guidelines recommend exclusive breastfeeding for six months and complementary breastfeeding up to age two or beyond. I am not going to go on until age 2 which I think is a little weird (though, as time goes on, I find it increasingly less weird, which is a bit worrying), but I think I might continue until 1. In my heart of hearts, I suspect that the breast feeding is part of the reason our baby refuses to sleep (bottle fed babies sleep way better than breast fed babies – hey, telling it like it is). Breastmilk being the most fantastically, wonderful food for babies, it’s very easily digestible (unlike evil formula) and so the baby’s stomach feels emptier faster. But hey, lack of sleep isn’t so bad. Of course, there is also the social aspect. My little brother is very down on breastfeeding. It makes him zoom out of the room. He came to visit recently and asked whether I could at least not do it in public (no, that wasn’t actually the reason for his visit). I think it was for that reason that I chose to breastfeed my baby in the trendy Bodega when I was at home in Cork. He nearly collapsed when I told him. As I explained to him, obviously, I had a sign round my neck identifying myself as his sister. He said in anguished tones “My friend’s baby is only two weeks old and he’s getting a bottle, why do you have to do this?” Ah, if only he’d been around earlier, he could have enjoyed the bottle phase. I pointed out to him that he was breastfed himself. His face on hearing this indicated two things: 1. he did not know that and 2. had he been in a position to choose at the time, he would not have hesitated to go for bottle.

And, if any of you expectant mothers are reading this, the birth was fine. It was the easiest part. Honest. Congratulations to Belgium the home of the epidural – not to be confused with the Netherlands where almost everyone has a natural home birth. And can I recommend a funny book?Vicky Iovinehas written a guide to pregnancy and a guide to motherhood. They’re not bad and something of a relief given all the other stuff about. Jojo, I fear that they may be stealing your thunder a bit..

And finally, my own mother feels that, perhaps, my last entry reflected negatively on her. Was I indicating that becoming my mother was a bad thing. No, clearly not, just a surprising thing – ah, the wicked flee where no man pursueth…now that I am a mother myself, I am much, more appreciative of my own mother who is proving her ongoing dedication by being a guaranteed audience of 1 for my blog.

Ah, is that a baby’s cry I hear in the background? Must go.

Comments

Minkleberry

on 15 January 2004 at 11:20
(
Comment Modified) Hurrah! At last, someone who tells the truth and doesn’t exaggerate. I do want to breastfeed, I know its not going to be easy and (for personal reasons) I hate medical professionals to the point of turning into a teenager and contradicting everythnig they say and being generally contrary. Your recollections and advice is like gold to me. What a great peice.
Thanksxx 2

belgianwaffle

on 15 January 2004 at 15:36

Thank you JoJo and Minkleberry. This is all very affirming (and, of course, sweeties are most exciting too). In fairness, lots of people do seem to get the hang of the breastfeeding thing with no difficulty at all. I hope that this will be true for you two also. If not, I really do thing that formula probably isn’t the work of the devil..

melanie

on 17 January 2004 at 16:06

Yay for you & the breastfeeding! I was sent over by FluidPudding and had to comment to say that for me, breastfeeding hurt A LOT for the first 4 weeks. And the kid thrived, so something must’ve been going right. I ended up nursing him until about 14 mos, and I’m determined to do it for 2 years with the next one. It doesn’t hurt that we go to this hippy homeschooling group where there are a billion 18 mo olds breastfeeding all the time. BTW– he began sleeping through the night at 5 mos. And I wasn’t nearly as sleep deprived once someone pointed out that I could bring him to bed with me in the middle of the night, and sleep through half the feedings. Still, once he did sleep through, I was amazed at how rested I felt. o yeah– this: ” I am not going to go on until age 2 which I think is a little weird (though, as time goes on, I find it increasingly less weird, which is a bit worrying)” sounds completely normal to me, lol.

belgianwaffle

on 19 January 2004 at 14:17

Thanks Melanie, maybe I will continue until age 2, particularly, if I can’t find a job…will have to keep this a secret from my brother though or otherwise he will never speak to me again…

Locotes

on 20 January 2004 at 02:49

I was in the Bodega twice over Christmas – the most unatmospheric place I’ve been to in a long time. No joke. So I obviously missed your own visit as I’m sure it would have turned a few heads. I had to laugh at the torturing of your younger brother though, sure isn’t that what they’re for? 😉

belgianwaffle

on 21 January 2004 at 00:07

Very right on, Locotes. You are entirely correct that torturing is what younger brothers are for.

mcval

on 10 May 2005 at 18:01
(
Comment Modified) Hi everyone,
Belgianwaffle – I had to comment about your breastfeeding saga! I was determined to breastfeed as well when my oldest was born 14 years ago.
It ended up being an emergency C-Section. When I was in the recovery room, the nurse did a quick blood test on him before she was going to hand him over for me to nurse. Just before she could, she saw the results of the blood test and whisked my sick little boy away to ICU. He had dangerously low blood sugar and had to be put on an IV.
I didn’t get to hold him for 9 hours! I was devastated! My husband kept giving me updates on him tho. When I finally got a chance to hold and nurse him, he wouldn’t. Apparently the nurses didn’t get my memo that he was to be exclusively breastfed and gave him a bottle of formula. I was livid… quietly of course…
I had such trouble nursing, SOOO SORE!! I had a couple relatives recommend just bottle feeding him, but I didn’t care what they said. The nurses all helped me try to get him to latch on. I had 3 nurses helping him get his mouth on at one point. Why did I need a robe?!?! I had lost all modesty at that point and whipped my gown open for the air conditioner guy once.
The best advice I got was from the male ICU nurse! He explained my own anatomy of my breast to me and told me to relax. It wasn’t immediate help, but it was very comforting! The clearest advice I’d gotten.
After 3 days I went home with our bundle of boy. It took him about 3 months to learn how to latch on correctly. I used bag balm (made him barf!), all types of creams to make the soreness go away. I even used nipple guards for nursing. How the heck do you use those things!?! What a waste of money!
I nursed him until he was about 9 months old. Saved a TON on formula!
My 2nd and 3rd kids I nursed until they were each one. Working fulltime, I might add! I used a breastpump and kept the milk in the freezer in sandwich baggies. My babysitters would thaw it in a bowl of warm water and stick it in a bottle. Worked great! Only had a male co-worker walk into my office once when I was doing this. He didn’t look me in the eye again for a few years!
To this day, when my husband is trying to get out of our kids what secret present we’re keeping from him is, they say a breastpump. My youngest has no idea what it is, but knows it makes Dad laugh!
What a nice blog site, BTW!
Val
0

belgianwaffle

on 12 May 2005 at 19:30

Hi McVal, thanks for this, it is, of course, particularly embittering to know that some people have no problems at all…

Getting Religion


Posted in: Princess, Siblings

Took Princess Waffle to mass today. For the godless, today is the feast of the holy family so it was very appropriate. We felt like pillars of the community. The priest referred to Princess Waffle from the pulpit saying how wonderful it was that she clapped along to the choir. We were very proud and hung around outside to tell other members of the congregation that she is very advanced for her age. This is, in fact, the second time that Princess Waffle has been referred to from the pulpit but since last time the priest was slightly irate that she was roaring and interrupting his sermon, I would prefer not to dwell on that.

And in other news, my sister flew back to Chicago today after a brief week in Ireland. Americans don’t really believe in Christmas holidays and she had to beg and plead for the week off. She may have to give up her job in the US and come home so’s she can have decent holidays, but not, I hope, before I have had a chance to stay in her new apartment. Only slightly deterred by the thought of flying 9 hours with Princess Waffle.

Comments
amillionpieces

on 29 December 2003 at 01:24

Your brave, I would never have the bottle to show family my weblog, in fact I would be really worried if they found it! So even if she doesnt like it, you deserve a medal for bravery!