belgianwaffle

Middle Child

What will I be doing when I’m not working? A catalogue of indulgence


Posted in: Cork, Dublin, Family, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Siblings, Twins, Work, Youngest Child

I was talking to a friend about my year off, my sabbatical as I think of it and he asked would I be travelling. Not really. Doing a degree? Nope. Writing my novel? Again no. “What are you going to do then?” he asked. “A bit more around the house,” I said. “My husband does a lot of the domestic stuff because he’s around the house more; I’ll learn how to use the washing machine,” I said. “So you’re taking a year off to do more washing,” he said. I think I need to find less snarky friends.

Here are my thoughts on what I will be doing. Almost as an aide memoire to myself. If I get none of these things done, then so be it.

On matters domestic:

More organising, sorting handymen, getting things done around the house that have been put off because we just haven’t had time: sorting the shed; the utility room; getting the house painted; re-doing the floors; taking the children to appointments; more (though not all!) domestic admin including making arrangements for powers of attorney now that the Assisted Decision Making Capacity Act is finally being commenced (so worthy, you cry – we promised to do it when we were making our wills but were waiting for the Act, this is our chance); more gardening; finally getting the brass lacquered, the furniture repaired and the clocks fixed. I will go for those blood tests the GP is so keen on (not because I’m ill but because she wants to do a general check up – good idea, I suppose).

Recently when I was giving Daniel an emergency last minute lift to GAA practice because I had forgotten that he had training and come home late to make dinner and therefore he hadn’t time to cycle, I said, “When I take my break from working I will remember when all your training nights. I will be on top of all the detail.” “Mum,” he said, “are you sure you want to spend all your break acting like a glorified secretary?” Good point. I will need to watch out for that. Maybe I won’t know when he has training after all.

Community stuff:

I’ll keep up the school parents’ council and the church but I might have time to volunteer a bit more for the tasks being doled out rather than cravenly shirking them. I have not spent all this time learning Ukrainian on Duolingo to have it be completely useless although judging by my recent encounter in the lane with our new 9 year old Ukrainian neighbour who until 2 months ago spoke no English, it might be. Maybe I should learn basic Russian as well.

Immediate family:

More time with the boys; a chance to meet them after school; pick them up if it’s raining; hear about how their days are going; help them if they can face it. More days out with my husband. More weekends away with him. Finally learning to cook or to slightly enjoy cooking. Maybe more bread making? Maybe not. More trips to England to visit herself (though her suggestion that I might drive over to England, pick up all her stuff and then drive home alone again while she goes to the end of term ball and on to London found little favour with me when put forward and was subsequently revised).

Cork family:

Helping to sort out my parents house; seeing my elderly aunt; travelling with my sister (she has mentioned Iceland, I said no initially but now I think, why not?); bringing the boys to Cork a bit more; maybe just spend some time thinking about my parents and writing a bit about my mother’s life ( I wrote about my father for his funeral and I want to do something similar for my mother).

For fun:

I think I might try this sea swimming thing – my friend from Clontarf goes every day, is this crazy? June seems like a good time to start that. Gretchen Ruben visits the Met every day. In a small way I might do that myself, go into the National Gallery most days, finally cash in my membership gift card. I’ll possibly rejoin the tennis club. I will continue to lunch. If you are willing to go at odd hours and take your chances you can get really good meals from the TUD catering college (I think it’s now the BA in Culinary Arts). I’m keen to test it out.

I mean it all feels amazingly exciting and delightful. I am so lucky to be able to do this. I think it’s the absence of stress as well. Christmas and summer holidays will be better when there are no calls from work and when the weeks leading up to the break are not absolutely frantically busy.

Yesterday was my last day at work until October 2023. Oh yes. And though I was broken by the run up to it, I am pretty pleased now.

Let the good times roll.

Patroness of the Arts


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Reading etc., Twins, Youngest Child

Last Friday night Michael, Mr. Waffle and I went to see “The Tin Soldier” in the Gate (Daniel was in Rome). It’s by the theatre company that did “A Feast of Bones” which remains one of the most successful plays, I ever forced my children to see. Friday night’s play was good but it wasn’t brilliant. There was some really amazing dancing in it and some very clever things but the script was a bit over complicated and didn’t quite hang together or I wasn’t smart enough to follow it fully – take your pick. The audience seemed to like it and so did Michael so a win overall. I don’t mean to boast but the main actor and I share a hair dresser and I thought his hair looked pretty good: I take my thrills where I can.

I have been to the TUD and NCAD graduate art shows. I haven’t bought anything but it’s just a question of time and wall space, I assume. There were some interesting things in both shows about young people’s experiences of the pandemic and the housing crisis and some pretty odd things that did not float my boat but I suppose that is the way of these things. The new building with beautiful views over the Dublin mountains was a bit of a star of the TUD show.

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Our next door neighbour’s first born is about to become or is already an NCAD graduate [how can I keep up, only five minutes ago she was in primary school] and she painted this picture on the concrete wall in the lane opposite the back of our shed. Every time I take my bike out and see it, it fills me with joy. It’s based on a sketch she did from a boat off the Cork coast. She has yet to charge us for it despite constant urging her to do so. I think she feels it’s unfinished but I think it’s perfect.

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I went to Bloom in the Phoenix Park for the first time. I have heard rave reviews. I am unconvinced. It’s €25 to get in and then you are invited to spend more money on food, plants, garden furniture, crafts, garden rooms, random gardening tat and random tat. The actual show gardens are relatively few and surrounded by people pressing against the ropes peering in. I do not think I will be back. I did buy a very lovely hand mirror from this crowd though. It seems to be a one man operation and I think Warren himself lovingly wrapped my mirror.

Here are the photos I got hanging over the ropes of some of the show gardens:

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And here is the grim reality:

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And here is a shot from inside the walled garden of the Phoenix park where you can get in for free all year round (except during Bloom, it transpires):

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Mr. Waffle and the boys and I went to see “An Cailín Ciúin“. Loads of people had recommended it to me. One of my friends from bookclub went because the young star was in sixth class in her children’s school and all of the parents were encouraged to go (I mean it’s an Irish language film, I don’t think they were expecting even the modest success that they enjoyed). I was a bit reluctant as my experience of Irish films is that they are gloomy. But it won a couple of awards in Berlin and I decided to give it a go. It was gloomy. Really beautiful cinematography (often, in my view, the kiss of death in a film). I found myself thinking, “Of course the Germans loved it, it’s a certain vision of traditional Irishness”. It’s set in 1981 and the young protagonist is the same age as myself and although some elements are very recognisable (ah the uncomfortable plastic hairband), it didn’t seem to be quite the Ireland I remembered but I am a city child and it is a country story and, of course, recollections vary. It is beautifully shot and acted but there’s no getting away from it, it’s sad. Still the boys loved it.

End of Term – Mixed Results


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

The boys are finished school for the summer. They had a reasonably good school awards season though Daniel felt he would have done better had he not irritated the school authorities with operation bald. Here he is after 3 weeks of hair re-growth.

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Daniel after finishing school last week hopped on a plane to Rome this week. Having ensured that his phone had roaming, Mr. Waffle and Michael dropped him off to the airport. It was only after Daniel had checked in his hold bag that he revealed that he had put his phone in it. This did not give me great confidence that he was going to find his gate and get to Rome safely. However, despite my qualms, he got there no problem and seems to be having a great time. I love seeing them make up for lost time under Covid. One of the really great things about a parent is how much joy you get from seeing your children having a good time.

I am also enjoying an end of term of sorts as I prepare to finish up work next Friday. A certain amount of extra lunching has appeared in my life. Most unusual – and rather charming – so far has been lunch in the club of a friend looking out of the dining room onto Stephen’s Green. Mr. Waffle came too and another friend who was in college with him and is extremely glamorous. I was pretty pleased – and mildly surprised, I had not thought of her as a cycling person – to see her rolling up to lunch on her bicycle until she tied her bike to the pole I had my eye on. On the down side this put her in a position to see my utter humiliation when I was taken to task by a guard for breaking a red light. Completely my fault and I abased myself absolutely apologising furiously. He was quite unpleasant but in the end he let me go with a scowl and trembling knees. Glamorous friend said that I was so long with him that she thought he might be a friend but then she overheard the tenor of the conversation. She was pretty indignant on my behalf and said that though I was in the wrong, I had apologised and what else was I supposed to do; although illegal it was not as though it had been a dangerous manoeuvre; and she felt that he was on a power trip. He did seem to be enjoying himself. I was heartened but also felt a bit feeble. As my father used to say “character is destiny” and I am much more likely to keep apologising than to argue back. I can’t help feeling she would have been far more robust in her approach.

Herself has secured a smallish sum of scholarship money and plans to use it to spend a month in Paris over the summer. Little does she know that there is a good chance I may visit her with my new found freedom. She is currently preparing for exams which start tomorrow. She is a bit nervous but all was going well until a random stranger came up and punched her in the face in the middle of the afternoon last week. It was a young woman, perfectly normal in outward appearance but obviously very unwell. The police said that it was a completely random accident and she was very unlucky. The paramedics said that nothing was broken but she would have impressive swelling followed by an impressive black eye. Right on both counts so far. She was really shaken, as you would be, in fairness. An academic and his wife saw what happened and were very kind to her and he wrote her a nice letter subsequently saying that he had been in contact with her lecturers about what happened. It was quite a shock though and I felt very helpless being so far away. I wish there were something useful I could do. She has a big ball next weekend after the exams and she says she will be like Pádraig Pearse, always getting her photo taken in profile. I am really looking forward to seeing her and a bit worried for her too; though she is pretty resilient it was a nasty thing to happen and has taken a bit out of her at a time when she was anxious anyhow.

And Michael? Michael has been happy as a sandboy since the end of school. He is currently enjoying his status as only child at home. We took him out for a mild walk in the Dublin mountains this afternoon and he seemed to enjoy the full blast of parental attention.

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Updated to add: The Italians have just called to say that one of their children has Covid; she’s been sent off to stay at her grandmother’s but I fear the worst. The plot thickens.

Shenanigans


Posted in: Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Twins

The school called me at work the other week. I was at a meeting. “They’ll just have to call Mr. Waffle,” I thought. Ten minutes later, Mr. Waffle called me. I thought I’d better step out and see what was up.

The school were incandescent. Daniel’s friends had shaved his head, at school, on the school premises, for a bet. He was €40 richer and a lot balder. They all got detention and missed the school sports day (his last as they don’t have one in 6th year, a shame) although one of them was unwise enough to point out to the authorities that there is no rule preventing shaving a school mate’s head during break. Unsurprisingly, this did not help.

It’s growing back and he has gone from bald to new army recruit at this point. Will he get the top of his head burnt when he goes to Rome for the week on Friday? Yes, yes, he will. Will his host family recognise him when they were expecting a floppy haired blond boy? That remains to be seen.

School is now over for this year. We can only rejoice.

Where had we left matters?


Posted in: Family, Middle Child, Twins, Work

It was mid-May, I was finishing work mid-June. Good news, I am still finishing June 17. Bad news, this last two weeks before I finish up, they are going to squeeze work out of me until the pips squeak.

My niece turned 14 in mid-May and we all went out to dinner to celebrate. There was an adults’ table and a teenagers’ table which worked well for everyone. My only fear was that one of the boys would tell their cousin what her present was before her parents gave it to her the following day. They booked tickets for her to go to London to see Hamilton. I confided this to the boys in advance but they dutifully kept it secret even when their cousin said, “I don’t know what my parents are getting me, the present isn’t hidden in any of the usual places.” Her father sent round a photo of her opening her present the next morning and getting a big surprise which we all enjoyed. Like my sister-in-law said, “We’re desperately trying to catch up on the things Covid took away from our children.”

We had the Dutch Mama to stay overnight – she was in Dublin for a work trip (and got Covid in the process, alas, we remain – almost miraculously, Covid free) – and she told us how her 15 year old on a trip to a European Youth Parliament with her school mates ended up sleeping in Helsinki airport due to a delayed flight. No teachers, although some of the school mates were 18 so there was that. Honestly, the Dutch are very daring. Anyhow the child was none the worse for her experience and it makes me think that Daniel will be fine on his trip to Rome later this week.

Summer Plans


Posted in: Belgium, Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Travel, Twins, Work, Youngest Child

A couple of years ago, an Italian friend of Mr. Waffle’s asked whether we would be interested in doing an exchange with her nephew in Rome and one of our sons in Dublin. Covid put paid to the original plan but now it is back and Daniel is going to Rome for a week and we’ll have an Italian teenager here.

I was a bit worried about Daniel flying on his own. I anxiously asked him whether he thought he would be ok and he pointed out to me that he had already flown to Paris on his own a number of years ago which, I confess, I had forgotten. He flew as an unaccompanied minor though so was thoughtfully shuttled about by a bored airline employee. Mr. Waffle is adamant that the humiliation of flying aged 16 as an unaccompanied minor (they have to wear a special label around their necks; they are herded together and most of them are under 12) would be the death of Daniel and that he will be perfectly fine on his own. He suggested that if I am concerned I could adopt his own mother’s technique of approaching someone I like the look of in the check-in queue and asking him or her to keep an eye on my child. More mortifying surely? Your views would be welcome on this issue which is the subject of animated domestic discussion. I am forced to point out that Daniel himself thinks he would be fine.

Daniel doesn’t speak any Italian but he is game for the trip to Rome and I do hope he will enjoy it. I lived in Rome for a while in my early 20s and absolutely loved it. I really feel for my children who have had so many of the normal teenage fun things denied to them but have had all of the angst and then some. Michael has astounded me by announcing that he wants to go on a school trip to Brussels to visit the European institutions. Under normal circumstances, he is not one for travel but the lure of a trip to the European institutions was too much for him to resist. I am not even joking.

Last night we told herself that the day she returns from England and Italian teenager will be arriving to stay with us. She is already a bit tetchy in the run up to her exams and I wouldn’t say this piece of information improved her mood. “I wouldn’t have come home at all had I known that there were to be Italian teenage boys or indeed teenage boys of any nationality in the house,” she announced imperiously. As her own brothers who live here are teenage boys that was always a pretty lofty aspiration, nonetheless, my hopes that she might entertain the Italian teenager (who will be 18 in August so possibly a bit old for Dan) were definitely delivered a blow. She’s hoping to go to Paris for a bit of the summer and if she does I fully plan to visit. Let us hope this will be welcome news in due course.

I have had to delay my year of rest and relaxation by a week or so due to an upcoming work crisis which my boss begged me to stay for. I am not immune to flattery (on the contrary) but given that I am counting the days extra time – and stressful extra time at that – seems a bit tedious. I will now be finishing on June 17 and I cannot wait. On the 20th I am off to England to collect herself staying with friends in England en route. I am thrilled.