belgianwaffle

Morning has broken


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

I see that Finslippy has trouble getting out the door in the morning. So do we. Part of this is because I am a late person and Mr. Waffle is a punctual person. Part of this is because the children move at the speed of flies caught in treacle and we often have to dress all three of them to try to hurry them up and get them out the door.

Take a random morning, at 7.45 Michael came into me screaming. He had dreamt that I had gone to Cork on the train and left him behind. No persuasion of mine (including my presence) could persuade him that I had not committed this sin. I am slightly hoist by my own petard here as I have very vivid dreams myself and can be quite cross with my loving husband for transgressions of which I have only dreamed. Michael continued to scream from 7.45 until we bundled him into the car at 8.45. Daniel was initially cross but calmed down and the Princess was largely good.

When we got into school, the Princess insisted that I accompany her to her classroom on the 4th floor. I panted up. Since I had gone all that way, I decided I might as well check something with the teacher. The other night the Princess came home asking for a dictionary for school. She was unclear as to what kind of dictionary it was. Was it an Irish/English dictionary or an English dictionary or an Irish dictionary? Also, there was no dictionary on her booklist. Was there some approved kiddie dictionary that I should buy? When I asked the teacher about this, it turned out that they were not using dictionaries at all. It was pure fantasy. She sounded so convincing though. She was absolutely mortified by my conversation with the teacher and turned tail and fled back down the four flights of stairs and out to the front door where her father was waiting for me. Between us we bullied and cajoled her back up the four flights of stairs and into the classroom. I really felt for her. I remember myself, the occasional awful juddering moment when school and home and truth and fantasy collided. Oh well.

Is it any wonder I’m exhausted when I get to work?

What mid-lifers like to watch on television


Posted in: Family, Reading etc.

When I was a teenager, I was given grinds in Irish by an older cousin who was a primary school teacher and therefore spoke fluent Irish. He performed this service in exchange for tea and biscuits, so it was a pretty good deal for my parents. He was 6 or 7 years older than me and, of course, when you are 17, that is a lifetime. In between making me laugh with his outrageous impressions of Peig, I quizzed him about what it meant to be fully grown-up (as Gaeilge, of course). For me, the litmus test was the news. Did he watch the nine o’clock news? Voluntarily and of his own free will? He did, sometimes.

Of an evening now, I find myself actively looking forward to nine o’clock when the children are finally in bed and Mr. Waffle and I sit down in front of the nine o’clock news with a cup of tea. The soothing tones of Eileen Dunne giving out more information about the snow represent a definite highlight of my evening. Then, the other night after the news, I watched a documentary on TG4 about Máire Geoghan-Quinn. I found it interesting.

I was chatting to a friend the other day about how there is never anything on the television. Our conversation went as follows:

Me: There’s never anything on television
Friend: We have one of these boxes that records programmes for you and it’s really great.
Me: Oh, like that tivo thing?
Her: Yeah, we’ve just finished watching an excellent series.
Me: What?
Her: No, no, I’m too embarrassed to say.
Me (thinking “Bad cosmetic surgery”?): Ah go on, do, do, do tell.
Her: No, I can’t.
Me (thinking “what could it be?”): Ah do.
Her (defensively): Alright, it’s really good actually. It’s “A History of Christianity”

So tell me, what mortifyingly worthy things do you like to watch?

Vindicated


Posted in: Siblings

I have always loved languages. I am fascinated by the ways they are similar and the ways they are different. My brother is firmly of the view that foreign languages are useless as we speak English and everyone speaks English.

I have just received the following text message from him: “In South Tirol. No one speaks English. German or Italian only. Major stress. Maybe you were right about languages being important.”

Hah.

More of it


Posted in: Middle Child, Twins

Me: Stop torturing the cat.
Herself: I’m not torturing her, she likes it.
Daniel: It’s mean to torture animals.
Me: Yes it is.
Daniel: And to kill them.
Me: Yes, indeed.
Daniel: But you ate a lamb.

Changing of the Guard


Posted in: Family

Florence, our childminder, is leaving us for a full time job. Alas. M starts when the children go back to school (possibly tomorrow?). I hope that they like her. Mr. Waffle rang her reference. He spoke to the father of the children she had babysat. “Did the children like her?” I asked anxiously. “Apparently,” said Mr. Waffle “they respected her”. Not exactly a ringing endorsement then.

Concerns


Posted in: Middle Child, Twins, Youngest Child

Daniel gets cross very quickly. He is liable to whack his siblings at the slightest provocation; not that the provocation they offer is necessarily slight. He used not to hit outside the family but he came home from school before Christmas cheerily labelled by his brother as a “buachaill dana”. Michael is himself a smug “buachaill deas” and his homework is good too. This is the problem with being a twin, you are always measured against your sibling. The teacher confirmed that Daniel had been whacking his little companions and had been sent to the “oifig” to reflect upon his sins. She didn’t seem too concerned and said words to the effect of “boys, what can you do?” We traced the onset of his poor behaviour at school to the time he moved table to sit beside another “buachaill dana” who seemed to bear the brunt of his aggression. The teacher has moved Daniel again and he now seems to be faring much better at the bord bui. I know I sound like some dreadful caricature mother but, poor Daniel, he does really feel things more than his two siblings (yes, I know, cold comfort to the whackee). He gets very upset, if he feels we are laughing at him or haven’t understood him. These traits are going to make for excellent teenage years, are they not?

Meanwhile being a buachaill deas is taking its toll on Michael who since starting school has begun to bite his nails and is wetting the bed almost nightly. Sigh.

They both regularly ask to go back to Montessori (particularly Michael) and speak fondly of the toys and games there though neither was at all keen at the time.

And, after extended Christmas break, they are going back on Wednesday, I wonder how that will go?