belgianwaffle

Twins

Agony of the Faithful


Posted in: Middle Child, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

At mass recently we had to do, the introduction (me), the second reading (herself), the prayers of the faithful (all of them and some other children rounded up on the morning).

The reason for this was that a number of our choir members sing in a national youth choir and they were singing at mass so regular readers were thin on the ground (either singing or preparing tea for the singers). The regular reading organiser asked me to round up children to say the prayers of the faithful. A number of novice readers I approached in the church shrank back in horror and I was left to fall back on my own brood. Daniel and Herself are regulars but Michael has only done it once before. I had him practice two prayers. Just before mass, one of the regular young readers turned up and I nabbed her and said to Michael, “OK you only need to do one now.”

I did my introductory bit and I thought that considering how bad previous attempts of mine have been, it wasn’t too awful but my family said I looked pale and shook like a blancmange. Can this be true? Hey, don’t mock until you’ve had a chance to bore a church full of people yourself. The Princess missed her cue for the second reading as she was distracted by the really beautiful responsorial psalm sung by the choir and had to zoom up to the altar with the speed of a coursing hare. She was fine once she got there – she has nerves of steel.

And then I found myself worrying – when are the prayers of the faithful? When do my little readers need to be shepherded to the altar? The Princess and I exchanged agonised glances. The priest paused. “Is it now?” I hissed at Mr. Waffle. “I don’t think so,” he said. Oh the agony. There was a really meaningful pause after the creed and the Princess gathered the children together and brought them up to do the prayers of the faithful. Michael was up first. Although he has read less often than the others, he is a clear and confident reader from the altar so, once he was there, I entertained relatively few fears. He began. It was the wrong prayer – he had got confused in the messing about before mass. He realised this. Instead of ploughing on, he put his hand to his forehead and said, “Oh no, oh no, it’s not this one.” Alas. Poor Michael, he was very cast down, though nobody minded at all, on the contrary, I imagine that they welcomed the variety from the standard prayer for vocations (singularly ineffective).

In other religious news, this Sunday, I will be operating a slushy machine for the Church Garden Party. The early Christian martyrs have nothing on me.

Not Waving but Drowning


Posted in: Family, Princess, Twins, Youngest Child

On the way home from swimming, Michael was indignantly asking why he had to learn to swim and I was explaining that swimming was a life skill.

Michael: I won’t go near deep water.
Me [automatically, remembering this ad from my childhood]: “It’s possible to drown in only a few inches of water.”
Herself: Yes, remember that relative who drowned…
Me: Yes, yes, your Nana’s great aunt who drowned in a barrel of cream [as a toddler].
Herself: No, I was thinking of Grandma’s great uncle who had a fit in the bath.

19th century deaths were much more dramatic.

A Weekend of Two Halves


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Middle Child, Princess, Youngest Child

A couple of weeks ago, I took the children to see Derek Landy, author of the popular Skulduggery Pleasant books. Herself read them for the first time a while ago but they have merited re-reading and the boys have been haring through them over the past couple of months.

2014-04-07 005

I was a bit worried that the boys might not enjoy the session [being less patient than their sister] but I needn’t have worried, Derek Landy was fantastic. He spoke for about an hour and had them all in stitches and then stayed patiently signing books and chatting, with every appearance of enthusiasm, to every child in the room.

2014-05-17 026

Buoyed up by this undoubted success, we went to the National Museum on Sunday for a session on Vikings billed as being for “the young and the young at heart”. I now know that this means for ages 3-6. The children were in the centre of the room on the mat and there was no escape. This nice man from New Zealand sang a number of songs of his own devising about the Vikings which the younger children loved. Michael just sat with his head in his hands throughout. Herself and Daniel gamely tried to answer the questions that the songster threw out to the audience about the Vikings. Since they were aimed at 3-6 year olds, my pair obviously knew the answers and their hands went straight up in the air every time. Mr. NZ sang loudly and with enthusiasm. I had a migraine and the headache tablets I had taken before leaving the house were only somewhat effective in countering his efforts.

The only amusing moment was when Mr. NZ said, “Brian Boru beat the Vikings at the Battle of Clontarf, where’s Clontarf?” [Expected answer – Dublin] A three year old with curls stuck up his hand. “It’s on the Northside.”

It’ll be a while before we’re back to the National Museum, I’d say.

Lost and Found


Posted in: Twins, Youngest Child

The children did a course over the Easter holidays which was very successful. Somewhat surprisingly, it appealed to all three of them. It was about ecological awareness but they called it “bug camp” as much of their time was spent constructing “bug hotels” in the park. The remainder was spent discussing Good Game Empire and Minecraft with their fellow students.

They also visited the National History Museum where Michael, as is his wont, wandered off to read in the library corner. He didn’t see the need to share information on his whereabouts with anyone. The misfortunate course organisers were looking at video footage from the museum to try to find him when he wandered back to the group. I sometimes think that Michael’s mission in life is to give adults heart failure.

Tenuously related – the phenomenon of the lost child is described rather beautifully by the other belgianwaffle thus:

Lost a child at a packed, boiling hot Mexican fiesta in a museum. Child, as is often the case, had no idea it was lost. 5 men with walkie-talkies and a hyperventilating mother begged to differ.

Blood and Gore


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

My loving husband was virtuously cleaning the cooker one morning and managed to give himself a knock on the overhead extractor which led to him bleeding copiously all over the kitchen floor and down the side of his face in a very dramatic manner. The children and I were very alarmed. No more cooker cleaning for him.

In other – admittedly tenuously connected – blood on the kitchen floor stories, the cat caught a blackbird and brought it into the house. A blackbird is quite a big bird to have in the house, particularly when a cat is haring after it in delight. The childminder and the children ran out of the house and shouted at the cat and the bird through the kitchen window with results such as you might expect. The childminder rang Mr. Waffle for directions on opening the kitchen window (trickier than you might think – particularly from outside). The Princess bravely ventured in and scooped up the cat and locked her into Michael’s room to the cat’s intense chagrin. The bird lay behind the kettle with a wing stuck out at an odd angle. The kitchen was plastered with blood and feathers. The childminder and the boys went to inspect the damage and the bird, like something from a creepy horror movie, sprang up on its feet and gave them heart failure. It began to fly again just as Mr. Waffle, feeling that support was needed on the home front, came back so he was able to help usher it out the window. Then he set to clearing up blood and feathers so that by the time I got home from work all that remained was a dramatic story and small feathers which turned up for quite a while in the oddest places. Is he not a saint?

IMAG0233
Cat looking as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

Duty, Stern Duty


Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Twins, Youngest Child

Michael was sick one morning and Mr. Waffle stayed at home with him. By 11, Michael was fully recovered. To be fair, he had been awake crying in the night with a sore tummy (possibly starvation, I worry, 4 cream crackers do not a balanced dinner make) so it wasn’t malingering but the ailment was clearly not serious.

That night, as we corrected Daniel’s homework (which was also Michael’s homework as they are in the same class), Mr Waffle asked me, “Should we make Michael do the homework?” For me, there was only one answer to that question, namely, “Are you insane?” This little interchange tells you a lot about our respective personalities.