The Secret Diary of a 12 Month Old (Part 19)

MONDAY

Shat myself awake again this morning. Not a great start to the week really.

TUESDAY

Managed to get myself into a standing position today. Honestly, never felt so alive! Was on top of the world. Shouting and laughing. Then realised I couldn’t get down and cried into the sofa till I fell over.

WEDNESDAY

If I do have to wear clothes when we leave the house, fine. But at least let me pick them. They’re obsessed with dinosaurs and stupid trains on everything. Why can’t I have something I like on the front of my jumper? Like glasses. I love grabbing those things.

THURSDAY

Got really angry today. For no reason. It felt good. Started laughing. This made me sad. Cried for a bit. Being me is exhausting.

FRIDAY

I wish they’d stop wiping my face all the time. Not everyone hates snot. It gives me character. Come to think of it, they’d look better with a bit of it on their face. Will share some tomorrow. I’ve got loads to go round.

SATURDAY

Debuted my crawling this afternoon. It was time to do it in public. Been rehearsing in secret for ages. Big people went batshit crazy. Haven’t made that much noise since I pissed on the dog.

SUNDAY

I wish they’d stop asking me what’s up when I’m crying. You wouldn’t understand, man. It’s a baby thing. Sort your own problems out.

(I've made the final shortlist in 3 categories in the MAD Blog Awards 2016 - Blog of the Year, Best New Blog & Best Baby Blog - and I need your votes! Click here and it will only take you 30 seconds. Thanks, Sam x)

Comments

Renee Christel Rispin said…

Just read this out loud to my husband while he cooks lunch. Lets just say we both nearly shat ourselves in laughter. Congrats on the MADS and good luck.

Renee @peonieandme x

2 May 2016 at 12:17

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2 May 2016 at 14:27

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

We Have a Winner!

Ladies and gentlemen - some news! One recipient of my newsletter is now the 'lucky' (ahem) winner of an exclusive gig from me IN THEIR HOUSE! And that person is... Lyn Morter! Well done, Lyn! (Btw, if anyone from Ofcom is reading, you can check the legitimacy of this result via the Facebook Live video I did last week.) When I informed Lyn that she'd won she simply said, 'I've never heard of you' and 'How did you get my phone number?' so I'm sure that will be a great gig for everyone. (Only joking. She was thrilled.) Thanks to all of you for entering. But what now, Sam? I hear you screaming at your smartphones. Well, I'll be taking things a wee bit easier through August, spending some much needed time with my family after all the touring. But just like that former Governor of California of Austrian descent, I'LL BE BACK (sorry) in September with more blogs, videos and general waffle. I'm also heading b

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

Sam Avery

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