belgianwaffle

Youngest Child

Romantic Text Messages in Middle Age


Posted in: Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Twins, Youngest Child

Mr. Waffle was putting out our bins this evening and he ran into our next door neighbour putting out their bins. Her husband travels a lot for work but she said that no matter where he is or in what time zone, he always texts her to let her know which bin* to put out when.

Unrelated: it was lashing here this evening but Daniel still spent an hour out at GAA training getting damp and filthy. The Gaelic Athletic Association is not for the faint hearted. Also this evening, Michael got his first scout badge; great rejoicing.

*Green for recycling; black for general and brown for organic (only Mr. Waffle and Mr. Next Door can remember which bin goes out on which night).

Stormy


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

It was wet and windy today. I had a half day. Michael was home sick. Mr. Waffle minded him in the morning and I had him in the afternoon. I abandoned him to drive into school and pick up Daniel (bike in the boot) and then when I had dropped Daniel, I went in search of herself (communication continues to be challenging – the phone Santa got her for Christmas is unsatisfactory). I found her almost home, her little helmet bobbing along as she walked by the nearby shops. She had been blown off her bike. She had a bloody knee but no serious injury was sustained except to her dignity.

Mr. Waffle arrived in at 6, also windswept and disappointed that his soccer was called off. There’s enthusiasm.

45,000 homes are without electricity though thankfully not ours (although we did lose the internet there for about an hour, so, you know, we could empathise). I lit the fire and made biscuits. Now we are about to eat them.

It’s a day for staying in.

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#Gaeilge24


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

Tá an Banphrionsa ag labhairt Gaeilge ar feadh 24 uaire. Chuala mé í ag caint ag ceathrú tar éis a 7 ar maidin agus tá sí ag caint trí Ghaeilge fós.

Níl fhios agam cén fáth go bhfuil na dathanna don t-léine cosúil le Ryanair. Ní cheapaim go bhfuil seirbhís trí Ghaeilge le fáil ar Ryanair.

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Bhí sé deachair go leor dúinn.  Níl fhios agam conas a d’eirigh le na 500 duine sa Mheiricá a rinne an rud ceana (sin a deirtear, ar aon nós).

Níl sé easca scríobh as Gaeilge agus tá Daniel ag seinm an feadóg stáin ag an am cheanna agus cúpla noiméad ó shin dúirt Michael dom go bhfuil foiche suas staighre agus tá orm rud éigean a dhéanamh.   Sin é i gcomhar an blog Gaeilge.

Beidh an seirbhís trí Bhearla ar ais amárach.

A Misunderstanding


Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Twins, Youngest Child

Michael: Oh no, next Sunday, is going to be a long mass.
Me: Why do you say that?
Michael: Whenever it says on my calendar that it is a special occasion, there’s always a long mass.
Me [puzzled]: What does it say on your calendar?
Him: Remembrance Sunday.
Mr. Waffle: Ah, you’ll find that’s not celebrated here.

Halloween


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

It all passed off very peacefully. The children dressed up.

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They received extraordinary quantities of stuff.

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Top prize goes to the couple across the road who noticed that our children hadn’t turned up at their door [they only had the stamina for one and a half sides of the street] and turned up at our door on Sunday with a bag of goodies for each of them.

Nuacht an Lae


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

I collected the boys from school today. As I shepherded my precious children along on their bikes, I was conscious that I was more than usually precarious on my own. Features for my added comfort included:

A basket which was very wobbly [I tried to get it fixed on Saturday but local bike shop had only one basket in stock and he didn’t recommend it – why, we ask ourselves] and liable to tip out its contents [in this case, one loose set of keys, one handbag, one long cylinder of wrapping paper and one bicycle lock] on the slightest provocation; and

Two heavy children’s schoolbags tied, reasonably securely, to the back carrier.

As I was turning right into heavy traffic my bike stopped moving. As the traffic was more or less at a standstill this wasn’t as awkward as it might have been and, happily, I didn’t fall over. I lifted up my, heavy, steed and moved to the side of the road. A strap from one of the school bags had got caught in the chain. As the bike is one which has a back pedal brake, extracting it was quite difficult and lengthy and made me and the strap absolutely filthy.

Once extracted, we then went home like the wind. I had undertaken to Herself that I would collect her from school at 3.35 in the car but warned that we might be a little late. This was before I realised that the boys’ extra-curricular courses started today [tin whistle and art, respectively, so far so good, tin whistle supplied, mercifully] and that they wouldn’t be out of school until 3.30 rather than 2.30 as usual. And then they took ages to emerge and I did not speed our passage home with my bicycle related difficulties.

I had no way of communicating with my first born other than by email [though as she informed me, a trifle coldly, I thought, I could have phoned the school] and although I sent her a mail saying that I would be late she only got it after 4 at which point she had been waiting for a while. I finally turned up at 4.15 the picture of guilt. How well I remember my mother doing the same thing to me.  Alas.

Then this evening is filled with a different flavour of guilt (procrastinator’s guilt – are you familiar with this?) as I am avoiding packing for a trip to Cork with the family at the weekend for my sister’s birthday and for a work trip on Thursday and Friday. The plan is that my loving family will collect me at the station on Friday evening and we will drive to Cork. The logistics of packing for both events simultaneously is too much, so I have put it off until tomorrow which I know to be a mistake. Don’t mock the afflicted. Also, I have requirements for the children’s clothing for their aunt’s [significant] birthday party. I think everyone will need more information than, “Pack something nice to wear” or I will be sadly disappointed. And, of course, I have nothing to wear myself.

Still it could be worse, poor Mr. Waffle is at the AGM of the Residents’ Committee. He went off this evening looking very glum.

This is the kind of exciting news that posting every day brings.  For completeness, have a picture of my sons disappearing into the fog on their bicycles this morning.

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