Skip to main content

I'm Up For An Award!

I started writing when my twin boys were born last year.

There were three reasons behind starting the blog:

1.I was shit scared about becoming a dad and a blog seemed like a slightly healthier outlet than binge drinking or shouting at traffic.

2.I was keen to document (with honesty) all the new experiences that parenthood would give me, without the soft-focus bullshit filter that so many parenthood books use. And what a great thing this would be for me and my boys to look back on in twenty years time!

3.I thought if I was REALLY lucky, I might get a ten minute routine out of it for my stand up.

What I didn’t expect was:

1.An audience. An actual audience for god’s sake! A real life gang of people who read, like & share the bloody thing! Wow.

2.To receive so many lovely messages from you lot – ranging from fellow parents who’ve offered advice, dads who’ve told me to hang on in there, and even new mums suffering from Post-Natal Depression who’ve told me my blog has made them laugh on a particularly dark day. Very humbling. (There’s also some who’ve said my blog should be taught in schools to prevent people from ever having kids…)

3.To be nominated for an AWARD!

What? I know! Actually, several of them in the MAD Blog Awards 2016. 

It’s all a bit surreal but I’ve been put forward for Best Blog, Best Blog Writer, Best New Blog, Best Baby Blog, Best Pregnancy Blog and Best Pre-school Blog. I’m pretty sure I was up for ‘Most Generous Lover’ too but I think they’ve decided to ditch that category this year. Typical.

So this is where it gets a bit awkward. I kind of need you to nominate me you see. I know, I know, I can feel the tension in the room too. I’m pretty sure this isn’t how the Oscars are decided.

I suppose what I’m saying is, if you’ve enjoyed my blog at all over the last year, I’d be super grateful and very much appreciative if you’d take 30 seconds out of your day to nominate me in any of the categories above, or any of the others you feel are appropriate.

All you need to do is paste my website address www.samaverycomedian.co.uk into this link and I promise to empty your nappy bin for the rest of the year. That is a cast iron promise too, and definitely not just a little joke.

Thanks for reading my blog and also for getting all the way to the bottom of what is essentially a begging letter,

Sam
x

Comments

Unknown said…
Nominated... Good luck! I love your blog, it's kept me from licking windows
Sam Avery said…
Thanks Ros! That's quite the review!
Unknown said…
Consider it done...get the bin bags ready
LouLou said…
Best day of last year - when you actually replied to one of my comments.
Delme Jones said…
I jumped most of the begging letter, just searched instructions. No time for general reading. Our twins are in bed and I'm not wasting time reading, need to do nothing.

Best of luck from another twin daddy :) It does get easier despite what people say. Ours are just past two years old and they carry stuff from A to C to B and back to A where it is left, but the idea is there ;)

Popular posts from this blog

The Time I Screamed at my Kids

Before my kids arrived I swore I’d never shout at them. But choosing how to approach parenthood before your kids are born is like a caterpillar deciding what kind of butterfly they’re gonna be while they’re still building the cocoon. ‘I’ll still do loads of charity work, of course. And I’ll be REALLY nice to moths too, even though they’ll probably hate me because I’ll be so bloody gorgeous.’ Theory and reality are like sugar and shit. I’ve raised my voice to my kids more times than I can count. Often just to shout ‘STOP SHOUTING!’ which I’m aware doesn’t set a great example. ‘You should NEVER shout at your kids.’ And that’s fine. In theory. Because everything’s fine in theory. The Slimfast diet is a piece of piss until day two when you’ve had three hours sleep and someone offers you a Wagon Wheel. Of course, I never WANT to shout at them. I love them more than words can describe. But those you love are also the ones blessed with the innate ability to boil your piss q

3 y/o kicks me in balls...

3 y/o kicks me in balls I fall to ground He offers to kiss it better I politely decline He gets upset I explain nuance of appropriate behaviour while writhing around in total agony Wife arrives I ask her to kiss it better She declines with fury Will cherish these family memories  💗

The Time I Smeared Shit on the Duvet

My wife and I developed our parenting systems through trial and error. One of the earliest rules we’d introduced was that if it was after 5am and one of the babies became unsettled, we wouldn’t waste our time trying to get them back down in their cot - we’d just bring them in with us. After a nice cuddle in our bed, they’d normally settle back down, barring the occasional impromptu fanny gouge or affable bollock kick. (Babies are the most violent sleepers on the planet, easily capable of committing GBH in the middle of reaching for their dummy.) Our twins were six months old. I was fast asleep. At least, the deepest sleep you can get once your kids arrive. My pre-kids sleep used to be the nocturnal equivalent of deep sea diving. Nowadays I’m lucky if I can submerge my toes in a puddle. Early on, my sleep was lighter than a Ryvita biscuit who’d been having it off with a helium canister they’d met on Tinder. Everything woke me up. Some nights I’d just lie there, bewi