Matters started badly. The Princess decided against a long nap
and we found her standing by her bedroom door with doggy in hand and
the curtains drawn saying “Enough nap”. Alas. As we had
both been napping we were not of the same view.
We drove to this kiddie farm. The traffic was brutal. Many
of the tunnels which make Bxls an excellent place to be a motorist
(though a rotten one to be a pedestrian) were closed. At one
stage, herself asked “Are we going to France?” and I thought, well,
actually, we probably could have driven to France in the time it has
taken us to reach this Brussels suburb. And Mr. Waffle had
put his back out, and he was doing directions and the mobile which I
had failed to recharge was making pathetic “I’m dying here” noises from
the depths of my handbag: all of which tended to make Mr. Waffle
tetchy. And I begged the Princess to be silent while her father
consulted the map but she was having none of it. “I want to TALK”
she wailed. This did not improve anyone’s mood.
Hours later we arrived at the kiddie farm. There was an ice cream
van outside and, in probably the day’s only sensible move, we instantly
yielded to the Princess’s screams for ice cream. We trekked down
the hill to the farm. Well I waddled, Mr. Waffle walked hunched
to one side and the Princess trekked. It was a bit limited.
A lot of the excitements that would have been available had we arrived
somewhat earlier were over. The Princess was terrified of all the
animals and demanded to be carried. I couldn’t carry her.
Mr. Waffle was able to put her on his shoulder and lurch hump back of
Notre Dame like around the various attractions. I think it would
be fair to say that nobody had a good time.
We left about half an hour after our arrival. On the way home,
the Princess announced “I want to do a wee” and for the first
time ever, proceeded to wee in her car seat. After we got her to
bed, Mr. Waffle and I spent the remainder of the evening trying to get
the wretched cover off the car seat with a view to chucking it in the
washing machine. Sigh. We’re still recovering.
on 12 September 2005 at 11:31
Sweetie(s) given
on 12 September 2005 at 12:00
Sweetie(s) given
on 12 September 2005 at 15:16
Much sympathy xxxxx
Sweetie(s) given
on 13 September 2005 at 19:07
Sweetie(s) given
on 13 September 2005 at 21:32
Sweetie(s) given
on 14 September 2005 at 10:19
Thanks Lilo and a sweetie to boot.
Pog, good summary.
Minks, 2 sweeties and excellent advice, you are the picture of goodness.
HJB – I will discuss with him.
JD – Eh?
Sweetie(s) given
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2. I will stop blogging and you will think that I have delivered twins
but, in fact, our computer will have collapsed. It keeps turning
itself off and sulking. Do you think that this is a good sign?
3. My stomach.
on 12 September 2005 at 10:00
Sweetie(s) given
on 12 September 2005 at 11:57
You’re talking about the well-documented Pre-Sprogian era, followed by the Inter-Familian. I assume.
Sweetie(s) given
on 14 September 2005 at 10:14
UC, you are wise beyond your years..
Pog, but I never thought it would happen to me.
Sweetie(s) given
on 14 September 2005 at 13:57
Sweetie(s) given
on 15 September 2005 at 10:51
Sweetie(s) given
on 16 September 2005 at 10:24
Sweetie(s) given
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Pregnancy Woes
With apologies to Dorothy Parker and her estate.
Three be the things I am wiser to know:
Antenatal classes, proper diet and the myth of a pregnancy glow
Four be the things I’d been better without:
Swollen ankles, vomiting, heartburn and doubt.
Three be the things I shall never attain:
Stylish clothes, a tiny bump and insufficient pain.
Three be the things I shall have till I deliver:
Anaemia, diabetes and worries about problems upriver.
Yes, I know it doesn’t scan. Poetry writing is harder than you might imagine.
And may I use this opportunity to announce that my sister-in-law has joined the ranks of the pregnant. Fantastic, the Princess will have a cousin in February. Yes, I’m sure that they think of it in those terms also; why do you ask? Anyhow, much rejoicing and excitement
on 09 September 2005 at 13:11
Thank you. You are most kind, I will save the sweeties for when I can eat them again..
on 09 September 2005 at 21:25
That’s very good. Are you not glowing though? I’ve been aglow for six months now and just assumed that, with twins, one would be doubly incandescent.
Friar Tuck
on 12 September 2005 at 02:58
At least your pome rimes. I don’t take to them pomes what don’t rime.
And you’re wrong about it not scanning. I scanned it this evening, and it worked perfectly.
on 12 September 2005 at 09:23
Um, no KE, I am pale and wan. The sedge has withered from the lake and no birds sing (this poetry stuff gets really addictive).
You are v. generous JD.
FT, you’ve been away. Welcome back.
Sorrowful
Her: I was sad Mummy. I cried.
Me: Oh dear sweetie, why were you sad?
Her: I wanted you and you wasn’t there.
Me: Oh sweetheart, I’m very sorry.
Her: Veronique (woman at creche) gave me a hug but I was still sad and I wanted you.
I was gutted.
Yesterday on the telephone to her grandma:
Her: I was sad Grandma. I cried at the creche.
Grandma: Oh dear, why were you sad?
Her: I wanted you and you was in Dublin.
Grandma: Oh dear
Her (in tones of deep reproach): I was SAD and you wasn’t there.
Me: Hang on a minute here…
on 07 September 2005 at 10:41
She’s getting better and better at this – reminds me of the ‘I want Daddy/Mummy’ bedtime scenario a while back.
Hee hee.
on 07 September 2005 at 13:16
Clever girl! She’ll go far.
Re: the imminent arrivals – hope you are bearing up Ok mum
Thanks Sus, Pog, I think.
Bit fed up Jojo, but, you know, fine, thanks.
Sleeping Arrangements
Mr. Waffle: So what will they sleep in?
Me: I was thinking I’d get Moses basket thingys.
Him: What are they?
Me: Little baskety things.
Him: You know, I’m really beginning to understand why my parents put me in a drawer when I was a baby. Drawers are the perfect size for babies. And it hasn’t done me any harm.
Me (mutinously): Our babies are not sleeping in a drawer.
Him (placatingly): We could put stencils on the side.
Me (definitively): No.
on 05 September 2005 at 12:29
I think that’s the most optimistic heading ever. Where will our babies ‘sleep’? Not, WHEN will our babies sleep? or WILL our babies ever sleep. The power of positive thinking..on 05 September 2005 at 13:29
I had exactly the same conversation with Jimi-except he wanted to use the contents of the drawers as blankets.
Incidentally, Jimi is a twin and he and his sibling slept together in a cot when they were new. They liked being close and slept better as a result.
on 05 September 2005 at 14:57
Between Mom and Dad, i.e. in your bed. Isn’t that what parents are supposed to do nowadays to grow fully-confident children?Can they share the Princess’ old bed? One on each side. At least in the beginning.
I thought this drawer thing was a great laugh!;) ???
on 05 September 2005 at 19:15
I slept in a Moses basket! Apparently it was very handy for dinners out too, no cots or prams, just carry me in and lay me down under the table…on 06 September 2005 at 13:32
Moses baskets are a disaster to strap into a car.
Sus: so that’s why you spend so much time under tables. And here was I thinking it was the drink…. 😉
[Joke.. joke… pace.]
‘waff: you might I think enjoy this.
on 06 September 2005 at 22:15
Can I send you a book on baby care for Mr Waffle perhaps?!!on 07 September 2005 at 08:25
Pog, exactly, and expected levels of sleep deprivation are likely to lead to precisely that result.HJB, you are bad, but accurate.
Minks, glad I’m not the only one with a drawer obsessed spouse. I do plan to stick them together. My latest thought is maybe in the travel cot.
Peggy. Yes. But we will sacrifice their confidence for our sleep. We are cruel and unnatural.
Sus, have investigated the cost of these things in mothercare; they are horribly dear. Am considering alternatives.
Jack, I’m sure you’re right. But how do you know?? Thanks for link.
StarCorner – that would be very welcome…
on 07 September 2005 at 08:54
Three cheers for being ‘cruel and unnatural’. But the sweetie goes to Mr. W for thinking that “We could put stencils on the side” was a big selling point..on 07 September 2005 at 09:50
You know That Quiet Kid — the one who says very little but is always watching someone or something with total intensity, soaking up every detail and nuance of the moment? The one who consequently grows up to keep doing it and becomes a font of the most incredible and varied human & related trivia?That would be me… 😉
on 07 September 2005 at 10:19
Oh Jack, that was all contained in the dot dot dot..on 07 September 2005 at 18:26
I had a cot under the sink.Really. M and D were building the house.
on 08 September 2005 at 08:54
KE, Mr. Waffle is thrilled. Ta.JD, Sus, stop it!
BHM, sounds very secure and comfortable.
Requires Medical Attention
Me: Yes, sweetheart.
Princess: Your doctor is a woman.
Me: Well, my main doctor is a woman, yes.
Princess: How many doctors have you got, Mummy?
Me (following a quick tot of the number of doctors I have seen during this pregnancy): 8.
Princess: God, Mummy, that’s a lot of doctors.
Comments
jackdalton
on 03 September 2005 at 23:36
>That’s only two and a bit each…. it isn’t that much really. 😐
[But full marks to the princess for her Corkistic register and intonation 🙂 ]
belgianwaffle
on 05 September 2005 at 08:56
Yes, pog, thank you. JD, yes, I am doing excellent work on the Cork accent.