belgianwaffle

Born Performer


Posted in: Twins, Youngest Child

Very attentive readers may recall that Michael won a golden banana for a stage performance some years ago. He was really good and he has been going to drama classes, which he loves, for years. He is an absolute natural on stage. He combines his father’s lack of nerves with his mother’s desire to entertain and a carrying voice all of his own; it is a winning combination.

They had an Irish language band into the school last week and after a couple of numbers they asked whether anyone in the audience would like to get up and sing. Michael hopped up. His siblings said they weren’t entirely mortified but these things can be hard to gauge. He was up on the school’s twitter account singing away and looking like he was having a great time. One of the other mothers texted me to say that her son had come home and said that Michael was terrific which was very kind of her. And then at the Princess’s parent-teacher meetings earlier this week, teacher after teacher asked me whether I had heard about Michael’s performance and wasn’t he brave and brilliant, the youngest and almost the smallest child in the school? I was very proud. Michael took it in his stride though, he’s preparing for when he is a global celebrity, I suppose.

Child of Our Time


Posted in: Ireland, Twins, Youngest Child

Me (perusing entire supplement to the Irish Times on the joy of skiing) : Michael would you like to go skiing again?
Him (who last went skiing when he was 3 and retains no very firm memories): Yes, I think I would.
Me: Maybe we’ll go then, not next year but perhaps the year after.
Him: Remember the bust is coming.

Who has spent a lifetime absorbing the lessons of the 2008 crash and its aftermath, then?

Reflection on Brexit


Posted in: Mr. Waffle

Mr. Waffle was chatting to an English colleague about Brexit. “I can’t understand,” said Mr. Waffle, “why the political parties aren’t going after the 48% remain vote, it seems odd not to capitalise on it.” There was a long pause and then the English man said, “As treasurer of my local branch of the Lib Dems in North London, I share your bafflement.” Poor old Lib Dems.

As Gaeilge


Posted in: Princess

Me: It’s nice to see you wearing your Fáinne
Her: Mmm.
Me: Have I scuppered it? Are you never going to wear it again?
Her: I’m just unsure about the cultural elitism surrounding a language that can’t really afford it.

In related news, we had parent/teacher meetings for herself earlier this evening – all well. At least, I think so, most of the talking was done in the first national language – although I draw the line at the teacher from Donegal who I find completely unintelligible – so my comprehension was at about 80% but the signs seemed positive. I missed the presentation on the new Junior Cycle because I was still queuing to see her year head but she tells me that she was called upon to list her extra-curricular activities to give the parents an idea of what children could include in the new Junior Cycle Profile of Achievement. Good call because there cannot be a child in Ireland with more extra-curricular activities. She was there this evening because she was doing registration of parents and selling raffle tickets in aid of the student council. Of course she was.

Any Given Monday


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

So, today, I cycled home from work in the rain. I got home about 7 to my latch key children and decided not to take Daniel to GAA training as Mr. Waffle would have done, had he been here (he is, sadly, away for work). I then gave the boys pizza for dinner (yes, they had pizza for dinner last night as well for their birthday party; our house is a temple to healthy eating at the moment). I burnt Michael’s because I am truly on top of my game. Herself and myself had Thai take-out. €36 for two on a school-night Monday. I can feel you judging me. I’m judging me.

I signed homework notebooks for the boys. Michael forgot to bring in his art materials today and Daniel forgot his home economics ingredients (“Did you not get to make anything then?” I asked. “Yes, I got ingredients from the cupboard and made scones, they’re in the bottom of my schoolbag,” he said. For all I know, they’re there still becoming ever more appealing as they are crushed by the weight of school books). Daniel also forgot to do his history homework and spent much of the evening frantically writing his history essay now due tomorrow on pain of death. This despite the fact that last night they faithfully promised me that they had in their school bags everything they needed for today. Signed a form allowing herself to go on a school retreat. Revised Michael’s months of the year in German for a test on Thursday. Refused to help herself with prep for her German test on the grounds that at this point I am more likely to put her off than assist. As she corrected my dates in German for Michael’s benefit, she was forced to concede that I was correct.

While the children cleared up after dinner (more a throwing out of cartons than a real clean up), I went to do some work on the computer. Herself went back upstairs to do more homework after cleaning up and, once the boys had packed their bags for tomorrow (Did I double check? I did not. Is this wise? I think we all know the answer to that.), the boys and I watched an episode of the “Big Bang Theory” and then they went to bed. I turned back to my labours for the office (big all day meeting tomorrow) and at 9.45 herself sidled in. “The blueberries didn’t come with the shopping and I need them for home economics tomorrow.” Was there any point between last Thursday when the shopping came and 9.45 the night before they were needed when this might have been mentioned? “I don’t need them until after 11.30,” said she. Usually her father can be relied on to perform these awkward errands but he is away and I am not at liberty to leave my meeting in the morning for blueberry hunting. This is why I found myself in Tesco at 9.55 this evening looking for blueberries, insert your own joke about late stage capitalism and the Americanisation of everything here (it’s far from blueberries we were reared etc.).

OK, I have updated my blog and finished my work for this evening; I’m going to bed now to reread Harry Potter and nobody can stop me. Judge away, it’s all I’m fit for.

Updated to add: The cat can stop me. She’s supposed to be put in the utility room for the night, otherwise she travels around the house mewing in people’s ears. Mr. Waffle normally stows her away. He did not stow her away tonight. Possibly my husband should go away more often so that I can fully appreciate all the things he does around the house. Mental note: why is laundry basket overflowing?

Weekend Round-Up


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

On Friday night, herself went to stay at friend’s house. I dropped her off on the way to a table quiz with former colleagues including the person who always wins pub quizzes. We won. On Saturday it was absolutely lashing. Once collected from her friend’s house in the morning and having had an hour or so to re-group at home, herself disappeared off with friends for the day. Daniel had no match (mirabile dictu). While Michael was at drama in the afternoon, Daniel, Mr. Waffle and I did some boring but necessary tasks (new football boots, wedding present, new jumpers) and then when Michael finished drama we all went to the science gallery exhibition on catastrophes which was not as thrilling as the boys had hoped. Last night Mr. Waffle and I went out to dinner and a film (Death of Stalin) which wasn’t bad but wasn’t as amazing as everyone said it was either.

This morning was mass and hockey followed by (drum roll, please) the boys’ birthday party only a month and a bit after their actual birthday on September 27. We had six 12 and 13 year old boys around (which, including our own pair, is eight boys, that’s a lot of boys). We took them down to the park where they played capture the flag and football. The weather was beautiful. When they came back to the house, they had cake and settled down to play board games until we gave them pizza about 6.30. We then fell back on charades until their parents came to collect them between 7 and 7.30. It felt a bit like 8 o’clock on Christmas night when everyone is exhausted but the mood is reasonably good. I’ve had worse birthday parties, I can tell you. Herself came back from another day in the company of friends to cast an imperious eye over the first years and eat pizza with them.

I sometimes wonder what exactly I filled my weekends with in my 20s. Possibly, shopping for a more extensive wardrobe. This is what Mr. Waffle and I wore yesterday:

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