belgianwaffle

Quantity not quality


Posted in: Reading etc.

Just back from a work dinner and dashing to the computer to make it for today’s post. The content is not spectacular but I feel that this display of devotion to duty must make me a prime contender for a NaBlPoMo souvenir mug.

So instead of content, you may feast your eyes upon a video of the Princess and her siblings sharing an ice cream. Or not, if you prefer.

NaBlPoMo – Miscellaneous

Dervala
From Limerick and a deep thinker. I started to read her after the best dressed diplomat (a more profound thinker than I am) found her. And then I discovered that Dervala and I had friends in common, so, clearly, I had to read her blog out of sheer nosiness. She is a thinking techie with a huge following and she writes a lot in reflective mode. I think she might be the Charlotte Rampling of the technology world. She writes about an Ireland lost in the mists of time which I always find mildly alarming as she is a couple of years younger than me: this is a fairly typical offering in that vein. And not a mother at all, well fancy that.

Manolo’s shoe blog

Just because I have children doesn’t mean I have lost all interest in shoes. The Manolo, he loves the shoes.

Thank you and good night.

Reasons to love Belgium


Posted in: Belgium, Reading etc.

Firstly, there is this picture. Then the other day in the Princess’s school I saw a poster encouraging us all to go to something arty which was supported by the “Ministère des classes moyennes”; disappointingly when I found the Ministry site, it is translated into English as self-employed which is not the same thing at all. Finally, do you know that all children who go to school in Belgium whether rich or poor are entitled to a “classe de neige” which is a week of school on the ski slopes? Subsidised by the State, as appropriate. What a fantastic thing for taxes to go on – let’s hear it for the Belgians please.

NaBlPoMo – Still with the mothers and as Paul McCartney said in one of his less successful numbers, “what’s wrong with that, I’d like to know”

Alana

Did you know that teenage boys can sound like their mothers? Just warning you, as is Alana. And I have just discovered that she is a poet too. Yes, I know, that sounds like bad news, but it’s not. Truly.

Dooce

You think I covered this earlier, but no, this is Dooce for alphamom. Funnily enough, they seem to have barred her from talking about motherhood, it’s about music, tv, concerts. For my money, not as good as dooce.com where her daughter, Leta, gets a lot of airtime but perhaps of more interest for those among you not blessed with progeny.

Exhausted


Posted in: Family

Please put together the following elements and write a description of my day because I am too tired to do so: Michael is sick, the Princess has abandoned her afternoon napping for good (insert weeping and gnashing of teeth here please), it rained most of the day, November 11 is a bank holiday for armistice so absolutely everything was closed except the video shop which didn’t turn out to be as much of a mercy as you might think since I chose to take out Mary Poppins for which the Princess is a little too young and which is very, very long. Indirectly, however, this provided the only entertainment of the day. The Princess picked up a pink (think moth to a flame) flyer in the video shop. On closer inspection this is advertising “the greatest Belgian lesbian party ever”. Belgium is the home of the European Union and the English favoured by this august institution tends to flavour that of the locals so the party is further escribed as being “in the framework of the loveball”. Indeed.

Today also afforded me an opportunity to reflect anew on how children seek to diminish any romance or mystery you might previously have enjoyed in your marriage. For me, one of the great things about working is going to the toilet alone. At home, the Princess likes to keep me company; this morning, having warned me not to put too much paper down the toilet in case I blocked it, she ran out of the bathroom to her father shouting an information bulletin “Papa, Papa, Mama a fait pipi et caca”.

NaBlPoMo – More Mothers

Islay

Separating mother of one who is surprisingly upbeat given the heartache and logistical nightmare of being a single working mother trying to deal like a grown-up with an ex-husband when all she really wants to do is scream. Or I may be overinterpreting here about the screaming bit. I do admire people who can keep so many balls in the air and manage to start over. Amazing. I also like the way that her posts are true.

Beth Again

Yet different. Because you can’t have too much Beth. Welcome to the friendliest place on the internet. Really. Also, the best advice on the internet (if that’s not a compliment, it was meant to be but I appreciate that the competition is not exactly keen).

New jumper


Posted in: Mr. Waffle

I was away for work for a couple of days last week and Mr. Waffle carried out crowd control in Dublin. When I got back, I had a look through the photos taken while I was away so that I wouldn’t miss even a moment of my children’s lives.

Me: What’s the Princess wearing?

Him: It’s a new jumper I bought her.

Me: You needed to buy her a new jumper?

Him: Hey, while you was gone, I was raisin’ this family.

NaBlPoMo – More Mothers

The Sarcastic Journalist

Mother of two, mistress of the hilarious one liner. She once said (more pithily) that when giving out attention, the child who can throw things at her tends to have an advantage. This was a reasonable observation and stopped me worrying about ignoring my sons, thus allowing me additional time to fend off missiles from my daughter. She also observed, oh so truthfully, that when you have a small child, when you’re out, you’re out, which is how she ended up in the post office in dressing gown and slippers. Consider also this post on breast feeding a nine month old. Such an insight into the true nature of parenting and such excellent writing – from one so young too. She is only about 25. I try not to hold it against her.

Wet Feet

This is an odd one, for me, at least. Kateri is the mother of two little girls, who live with her; she also has another little girl whom she gave up for adoption to her lasting regret. It was an “open adoption” but it doesn’t seem to have worked out very well for Kateri who is gutted. I’d never really given much thought to adoption and its implications for everyone concerned before reading this blog and she has made me think a lot about that. She is a very different person from me. She definitely falls in the earth mother end of the spectrum (she doesn’t use disposable nappies, and this is only the beginning, people) whereas I am more at the “what’s your name again child who I only see briefly every day, oh good Lord how many of you are there?” end of the spectrum. I think she’s wrong about a lot of things and I’m sure she would think the same about me but it is interesting to read the (very definite) opinions of someone you don’t agree with most of the time. And also I do admire her coping skills as she separates from her husband and brings up her daughters and tries to do what’s best.

Happy Birthday


Posted in: Siblings

Me: I think I’ll ring Aunty Helen.

Her: NOOO, talk to me, I hate the telephone.

Me: Nope, I’m going to call her.

Her (snorting): Big meanie.

I ring her work number.

Indian Gentleman: Hallo.

Me (Somewhat surprisd): Oh hello, I was looking for Helen.

Him: For Hindi?

Me: No, for Helen.

Princess (loudly): Big meanie.

Him: Oh OK. Where from?

Princess (loudly): I hate the telephone.

Me: From Brussels. From Belgium.

Him: Wait ok?

Long pause.

Helen: Is something wrong?

Me: No, just rang for a chat.

Princess: Big mean old Mummy.

Helen: Oh, because, I’ve just been pulled out of a difficult meeting that I’m chairing.

Me: Oh right, you better go back then, I hope that I didn’t undermine the professional tone of the meeting.

Helen: No, I think that that was fatally compromised by the stream of employees coming in wanting to play table tennis.

Me: What?

Helen: Well, we are running late and after work there’s a table tennis club here.

My sister is 31 today – fancy that, and though the Princess won’t let me talk to her, she did sing happy birthday for her.

More famous mothers – NaBlPoMo

So the Fish said

I love Beth, she’s just so nice. That makes her sound bland but she’s not, at all. She’s hilarious. She’s kind and clever too. She is also mother to the world’s most beautiful child only excepting yours and mine which are tied there at the top also. There are some blogs I love but I’m not entirely sure I would like to meet the author but I would love to meet Beth. That’s why she should be worried about stalkers in, what she foolishly believes to be, her Washington safe house. Doubtless, once you have investigated her blog, you will want to stalk her too, but, hey, join the queue.

Fussy

Inventor of the NaBlPoMo. Do I need to say more?

Happy Families or there was no television when I were a lad


Posted in: Princess

For the past couple of weeks after the boys go to bed, the Princess, Mr. Waffle and I have played a game together. She has mastered snap but aeons can go by before she notices that the cards are identical and she can “snap”. Funnily enough, she’s much better at dealing the cards than you might expect in a three year old. And I am delighted that I have managed to induct her into the world of card playing. I now say (when she finally snaps), “ok you’ve won the trick, now lead”. And she does. I am entertained which is just as well, really, because I don’t think I’ll ever be allowed to snap more than once per game without a collapse into furious sulks.

On evenings when snap palls (why? I hear you ask. Why would snap pall?) we sometimes play a board game with elephants which is quite mind-boggling tedious but boasts the significant advantage of being entirely uncontentious. Lately we have started playing a game which she received from tactful friends on the boys’ birthday. It is called “Tottering Towers” and in all the language versions of the instructions, except English, is described as being suitable for children aged four years and up. Anglophone children have to wait until they are 5 to tackle it. How we wish we had heeded the sage advice of the instruction writers. She loves it but we spend our time locked in mortal combat. It is, essentially, a memory game. You have to remember which towers other players have (acquired on a roll of a coloured dice). The Princess has no hesitation in asking us for our towers but when we even hint that we might like one of hers, she buries her bag of towers under the cushions on the couch and sits on top of them. I once tried to wrestle a tower from her but gave up in despair when she began to collapse in tears. Given that the Princess will inevitably win, the battle for second place has become increasingly intense (“Oh, but, I think you do have the yellow tower”. Audible sniff). Ah, did you perhaps think the mortal combat might be with the three year old?

We’re getting snakes and ladders at the weekend.

NaBlPoMo – Famous Mothers

Dooce

I once read a blog where the writer said words to the effect “if you don’t know who Dooce is, you must be my mother, Mom, please call me”. I think this sums it up quite neatly. That and the fact that if you google “motherfucking mormon”, she is the first site that comes up. Apparently. She said so, it must be true.

Finslippy

The delightful Alice: quirky and beloved New Yorker recently turned New Jerseyer. She may be the best writer on the internet. Aside from you and me, clearly.