belgianwaffle

Know thyself


Posted in: Princess, Reading etc.

Me: Can you get the thingy.

Her: It’s all the way over there.

Me: But you’re standing up.

Her: Yes, but I’m too lazy to get it.

NaBlPoMo Books

B is for Bryson, Benson, Boyd, Binchy and Blyton
Bill Bryson: well-written, funny, informative, what’s not to like as our American cousins say. I promptly buy each new volume on publication.

B is also for Benson, E.F. Benson to be precise. The son of an Archbishop whose wife ran off with a woman, Benson and all of his siblings were allegedly gay or lesbian. Says something, for nature over nurture, doesn’t it? All the same, you have to admire the panache of those Anglicans. He wrote the Mapp and Lucia books and they are superb social comedies that bear repeated rereadings. I love them; they are comfort reading for when I am fed up and the world seems a miserable place. Unfortunately, I am not half so well able to convey my affection and the novels’ brilliance as this article to which I selflessly refer you. Mr. Benson was mayor of Rye on which Tilling is based and I am desperate to get there on my holidays, even if it is in Sussex.

William Boyd is excellent. I have only tried two of his offerings “Any Human Heart” which was absolutely superb (recommended to me by the Glam Potter to whom I am extremely grateful) and “Restless” which is less good but still very good. He has a huge back catalogue too – oh happiness – and I am going to read them all. Jeremy Paxman is quoted on the back of my copy of “Restless” as saying that he would read anything by William Boyd, let’s not hold that against Mr. Boyd.
I like Maeve Binchy. She does not write particularly well (though I think the critics’ favourite term ‘workmanlike’ could fairly be applied to her prose), her plots are predictable and her characters, no matter what age they purport to be all act like men and women in their 60s. Let me put it this way, I don’t think anyone has ever sent a text in a Maeve Binchy novel. Yet, her endings are always happy and her characters are always nice and never, ever have graphic sex. This is endearing. And she tells a good story. Apparently, when she used to get the last bus home from UCD in the 1960s, everyone wanted to travel with her because she was so entertaining. I imagine also that she is a lovely person and this comes across in her novels. Everything is for the best in the best possible world. I see that on her website, she puts up the odd short story, so you can try her out for yourself.

Enid Blyton was my first love and though I have moved on, I can never forget her. Especially the Famous Five, despite Anne’s role as scared drudge and the St. Clare’s books (in new covers for a new millenium, I note), far better than the Chalet school.

All month


Posted in: Reading etc.

I have decided on a theme for NaBloPoMo (you know, where I and 1,353 other people and counting blog every day for a whole month, stay tuned for daily witterings). Every day I will write about books by authors I particularly like. I may write about other things too. I will be unstoppable.

I will do it alphabetically. That is the kind of person I am. We will begin with A.

A is for Atkinson and also for Atwood and Austen
I am very fond of Kate Atkinson’s books and will always go out and buy a new one when they come out. I even enjoyed her book of short stories which was clearly gibberish (“Not the end of the World”). She suffers from the unfortunate problem that she wrote her best book first: “Behind the Scenes at the Museum”.

I am a bit more ambivalent about Margaret Atwood. I have enjoyed many of her books: “The Handmaid’s Tale”, “Oryx and Crake”, “The Robber Bride”. I disliked “The Edible Woman” and I had my doubts about “Alias Grace”. I found “Cat’s Eye” brilliant but disturbing. I was unhappy as a teenager and it brought back to me in a very vivid way the misery of those years (though I was not bullied like the protagonist, I found my own ways to be miserable and lonely).

Moving on to Jane Austen: I love “Pride and Prejudice”. I have read it innumerable times since I first read it as a school text when I was 14. I still have my battered penguin school edition and even opening it makes me sigh with happiness. I am distinctly less keen on the rest of Ms. Austen’s work. Fanny Price in “Mansfield Park” is dull. The plot requires you to really believe that acting in amateur drama is morally wrong (you may wish to insert your own little quip here) and even Jane Austen can’t make a modern reader suspend disbelief to this extent. Particularly not, if she’s relying on insipid Fanny Price to do it for you. “Emma”, “Sense and Sensibility” and “Persuasion” are pleasant. If you ask me, nothing lives up to “Pride and Prejudice” a book written when she was only 20. Phenomenal.

What are your favourite marvellous, unforgettable, fantastic As?

Stay tuned tomorrow when we move on to B.  Be still my beating heart.

At the ophthalmologist


Posted in: Reading etc., Twins

Hard to spell and even harder to say. Hardest of all to spend two hours there on a rainy evening with two tired parents and two tired boys. The boys, understandably, disapproved of the people putting drops in their eyes and shining bright lights into their pupils to examine the backs of their retinas.

Predictably, Daniel was stoic and Michael was furious. He pointed at the assistant who dispensed the drops and yelled “mechante lady”. During the actual examination with the bright light he yelled, shut his eyes and cried. Daniel just squeezed my hand as he lay down on the large leather couch. Poor Daniel, he is getting glasses and a patch for two hours a day. And a check-up in 6 weeks, doubtless involving more drops. Michael is to come back in 6 months to have a pale optic nerve inspected further. I really hope that the meek inherit the earth because other advantages seem to be pretty much non-existent.

When we got home, someone had parked in front of the garage so we had to ferry the boys in, across the road in the rain. On arrival, however, things improved. The Princess was in great form having had a day of indulgence from the royal grandparents who are nobly pitching in to help us out over mid-term. They also had dinner ready for us…and it was still hot.

Also, this is funny:

Russian president Vladimir Putin has suggested setting up a Russian-funded institute in Brussels or another European capital to keep an eye on human rights issues in Europe. 

Non sequiter


Posted in: Princess

We went swimming with the family on Saturday. All the children love the pool but the boys are very reluctant to leave. We had to wrestle them out and carry them screaming to the family changing room. We attempted to get dry, stay dry, get changed, change nappies and dress children, find liga and wring out togs in the narrow confines of the changing room.

Mr. Waffle: Stay on the towel or you will get wet.
Daniel: Wet, wet!
Michael: Bottle.
Me: One minute, one minute, hand me a nappy there please. Princess (holding up bag of silica gel that came with her new goggles): What is this for?
Me: Michael, stop that.  Stop it, now! Um, it’s to keep the inside of the googles packet dry.
Princess: Why?
Mr. Waffle: Michael get your socks out of the puddle.
Me: Where are Daniel’s shoes?
Princess: But why?  Why does it need to be kept dry?
Me: I’m not sure, sweetheart.
Daniel: Sock, wet.
Princess: But how does it work?
Me: Not really sure, sweetheart.
Daniel: Two sock wet.
Michael (howling): Daniel bold.
Daniel (clutching head): Michael bold.
Mr. Waffle (through gritted teeth): Where is that boy’s bottle?
Princess: Mummy, I don’t think I believe in God.

Further notes on progress


Posted in: Twins, Youngest Child

Introduction

Like his big brother, Michael was two on the 27th of September (he was born 25 minutes after Daniel). He is a Mummy’s boy. He loves his Mama. He will always give a (generally snotty) kiss when asked. He also loves his doudous and now will only go to bed if he has his doudou (t-shirt belonging to his father), his nounours (a teddy bear wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with the logo of the Brussels police service – it is difficult to imagine a less cuddly body of men and women though my husband points out that some of them are round and others are furry) and a bottle clutched between his teeth.

Appearance

He is a slight wiry little fellow and has the most hair of any of my children. Of all of them, I feel that he is the one who looks most like me though they all look very like their father.

Character Traits

Despite this apparent softness, he is as tough as nails and will never cry, if we are cross with him. He regards all efforts to criticise or amend his conduct with deep hostility. He loves sticking his finger up his nose, a habit as unsightly as it is unsanitary. The other day, I again remonstrated with him and removed the offending finger. He looked at me balefully, held up two fingers and stuck one up each nostril. Today I was absolutely furious with him because he would not keep on his t-shirt and went howling about the house saying “tummy, tummy”. I lost my temper and pulled off his t-shirt. I think that this is the first time I’ve lost my temper with him and he was shocked and appalled. He ran into the hall and found his father and grabbed him while pointing tearfully (unusual that) and furiously (much more common) at me. “Mama, méchante!” he said with considerable bitterness. Ah yes, a whole year of being 2, I can’t wait.  I now have only one child with whom I have never lost my temper.  No prizes for guessing who that might be.

When his brother or sister is sad then he will run to get a doudou to comfort him or her, unless he is the cause of the chagrin, in which case he will run around the room crowing with delight.

Michael is dangermouse. He likes to abandon his family and play with the big children. He likes to climb. He would run under cars, if he could. He thinks “careful” means please climb on the table and jump from it on to the couch.

He is immensely sociable and from when he was very young would smile ingratiatingly at strangers. In the park he likes to run off and play with other children and never gives a backward glance to his family. This is good practice for when he is a teenager, I suppose.

Communication Skills

His vocabulary is unsophisticated but not ineffective. “Sleep, asleep” he says hopping into our bed pulling the covers around him and clutching his array of doudous. This is a boy who would love to get out of his sleeping bag and cot and into his own bed. Unfortunately, since his father and I place no dependence of his staying quietly in bed the way his sister did when she transferred out of her cot, this is a desire that is unlikely to be fulfilled for some time yet. When his nose runs, he says imperiously to his parents “nose, nose!”.

He is very polite and as he sits down for dinner he will say, before chucking it around the room “thank you, Mummy, thank you Daddy”.

He adores talking on the phone and will say to my mother “Hello Nana” which they both seem to enjoy. He often picks up the phone and has imaginary conversations with his grandfather.

Leisure and Culture

He loves to run and to walk on the street, a pleasure he rarely enjoys as trying to stop him and his brother tossing themselves under a bus is a task that requires two parents and a well behaved sister.

He loves balls. He once caught sight of a ball on the street and wept for absolutely ages when he was not allowed to play with it. He loves kicking balls and is quite good at it. He knows no greater pleasure than trying to tackle me while with deft and fancy footwork I pass him.

He likes to be read to and is particularly fond of “Slinky Malinki” by Lynley Dodd (whom my genius husband guessed might be from New Zealand by looking at the illustrations in her books). He is also taken with the tale of “PJ Funnybunny” who having considered a number of options (spoiler alert) decides he wants to be a bunny after all. As we turn each page he identifies all the animals PJ tries becoming. Since it’s an American book, the animals PJ goes to live with are not very familiar to me and it is mildly amusing to see my small son pointing at a picture of a very odd looking animal which I have never seen before saying authoritatively “possum!”.

Dining

He eats most foods but doesn’t like sweet things. We think he may be the reincarnation of a 50 year old man who died of a heart attack. He once insisted on tasting his father’s wine. We allowed him to, sure that he would spit it out. He loved it and demanded more. Actually there is form for this in my family. My brother who was four at the time got drunk by finishing off the sherry (it was the 1970s) that guests had left in their glasses at my sister’s christening. My parents were actively concerned about him as he rolled on the floor giggling helplessly until they caught a whiff of his boozy breath. I digress. One day we were having mustard with our sausages. Michael demanded some and when we watched to see how he would react, we were amazed to see him cast aside the sausage and start tucking into the mustard with his spoon. He also eats pesto by the spoonful. If he were allowed, he would eat mountains of salt.

Conclusion

Michael is Thursday’s child – he has far to go. Assuming that he makes it to three. He is extremely charming, yet lethal, particularly, if crossed. Maybe he will grow up to be a spy.

And to celebrate his survival of another year, here is a slideshow covering 12 months of my darling, daring boy.

Notes on progress


Posted in: Middle Child, Twins

Celebrations

Daniel was two on 27 September and though he had to share a birthday with his brother, he will get a belated blog entry all to himself. The effects of the birthday party still linger. Every time he sees balloons he begins to sing “Happ Birthday Daniel and Michael” and I’m pretty sure that it’s a bit unclear to him why the celebrations have ended. The birthday party itself was attended by two sets of twins in addition to the birthday boys. That’s a lot of small people and I haven’t even touched on the other children. He loved it.

Relations with parents

Daniel is a Daddy’s boy. I try to worm my way into his affections and he is quite fond of me but I come a very poor second to his beloved Papa. While he will willingly embrace his father, the only times I can regularly get a kiss from him are the mornings his father takes him to the creche.  On those mornings he will stand in the hall with his chubby little arms outstretched and say kindly “big kiss, Mummy”.

Physical Aspect

Daniel is a very solid child. I find this odd as he eats almost nothing. He does, however, enjoy a number of bottles every night so this keeps him going. My advice to dieters would be to stay away from the full fat milk. He has enormous dimply knees that I can never look at without smiling. He has the softest blondest hair and pale, pale skin. He has a very endearing way of running. He sticks out his elbows and wiggles them about while trotting along solidly saying in great excitement “I run, je cours”. He also has a squint, poor mite. We are taking him to the doctor on Monday and I see a patch and glasses in his future.

Interacting with others

He is a quite a good talker and really tries to communicate. He gets cross when we don’t understand him and says the offending word repeatedly. He has learnt from his sister that, if your parents don’t understand, it is best to shout at them. He and the Princess both rejoice in penetrating voices and they often scream in high pitched harmony for the hell of it. Their parents do not enjoy this.

He isn’t bad with strangers though, over the Summer, I took him to see an old friend of my mother’s and although she was very taken with the way he would peep out at her from my shoulder and say “I shy”, I was a little surprised.

He is an empathic little fellow and more than either of the other two worries when anyone is sad. His face will take on a look of concern and he will waddle over to the weeping sibling (or whoever it is) and offer a big kiss (unless, it’s me, of course, then he just offers a stiff upper lip) . On the other hand, when he is cross, he is furious. Carrying him somewhere he doesn’t want to go is like wrestling with a kangaroo. He has this trick of arching his back and flailing his limbs so that his (considerable) weight puts you off balance. I don’t think he realises that this will make him land on the floor one day – he just knows that it makes him harder to transport, and that’s the main thing.

His sister has two Doggies (Home Doggy and Travel Doggy – regular readers will know the latter is a – very expensive – spare because the thought of losing Home Doggy is frankly too terrifying, even now that she’s four and half). Until very recently, Daniel and Michael were never so dependent on a toy/blanket/whatever you want to call it. In bed, they will cuddle up to an old T-shirt, but any T-shirt will do. However, in the last few weeks Michael has become very attached to a teddy bear which he also takes to bed (with a T-shirt and a bottle). Sometimes he won’t let of of any of these treasures, so getting him into his pyjamas can be tricky. And Daniel ? Just a T-shirt, thanks. He’ll even give this to Michael, if Michael is upset.

Daniel is very good at sharing, which is just as well. When you ask him to share, even a favourite toy, he will. He may say no a couple of times but eventually he will hand over whatever it is with a small sigh.

Quirks

Daniel is the only one of my children who has inherited what my parents and siblings describe as my mania for tidiness. I would say that everything is relative. My father always says that my grandmother was very tidy and always throwing things out. My parents live their lives in reaction and nothing has been thrown out of their home. Ever. “We are not part of the throwaway generation” my mother informs me severely. My brother went to a science museum in Manchester and he saw our electric fire. Whenever I go home my parents tease me by doing this deeply irritating thing, whenever they can’t find something, they ask me whether I have thrown it out. The most unlikely things “there was a cheque there for 500 euros, did you throw it out?”. I digress. Poor Daniel is obsessively tidy. He cannot sit down to eat unless everything has been put away. This is an instinct I have every sympathy with but sometimes I wish he would just sit down and eat his dinner. When he has put things away, he straightens up the boxes and beams with pleasure and pride.

Up to now Daniel and his brother have shared a wardrobe. I notice though that there are now a number of items that Daniel regards as Michael’s. “Michael’s pyjamas” he says firmly, if I try to put on the ones with the frog pattern. “Bear” he says pointing to his tummy, indicating that his pyjamas are the ones with the bear.

The arts

Ever since he was very small, he has loved books. He is still very happy to sit turning the pages of a book he likes. He is fond of T’choupi, the world’s dullest mole and thanks to the efforts of his sister over the years we must have about 20 different tales of the home life of the mole. Paradise.

Ideally, I think Daniel would like to watch more “Postman Pat” on the television but we are cruel and heartless and don’t let him. Sometimes he sits in front of the television hopefully just praying that someone will turn it on.

He loves songs; two songs to be precise. All summer long we had to listen to “Gugusse” and attempts to try other songs were not welcomed. Now, everywhere we travel we are accompanied to the cheerful strains of “Il était un petit navire”. My sister gave him a phone that you can record on and I have sung a couple of lines from the boat song. He wanders around the house beaming with it pressed against his ear until his brother, suspecting it may be more entertaining than his own identical phone whips it from him.

Conclusion

Even though he was born on a Tuesday, my elder son is really Friday’s child – loving and giving.

Happy birthday, my fabulous little boy.  And here, to celebrate is a slide show demonstrating how big you’ve got since last September.