10 Things I Learned as a Parent This Week (#46)

1.Arriving somewhere EARLY with the kids will freak you out. (I expected the universe to implode.)

2.If you're on your third cup of coffee and fourth slice of pizza by 9.30am it's gonna be a long day.

3.Those happy toddlers enjoying ALL their food in the recipe books are CGI, right?

4.When my wife dresses the kids she picks the nicest outfit. When I dress them I pick whatever goes on easiest.

5.It's entirely possible to be so exhausted that you drop a biscuit and call it a c**t.

6.I feel sorry for the snail in our outside bin. Trapped in a pit full of rancid nappies and broken dreams.

7.They should change the name of Teddy Bears Picnic to 'Let's Wreck Daddy's Trousers'

8.Minging food on a floor is more appetising to a toddler than haute cuisine on a plate.

9.I'm pleased my kids are showing an interest in books, if only they wanted to read more than the same two ALL THE TIME.

10.As a parent I've actually listened to the training schedule that Olympians keep and thought, 'IS THAT ALL?'

Follow my blog on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or go old skool and get it emailed to you! Just go to the top right of my website and pop your email address in. (I promise I won't spam you, I barely have time to scratch my arse...)

I also release a weekly podcast where I interview fellow parents who are comedians, actors, DJ's, etc, if that's your kind of thang...

Comments

repliche orologi said…

Impermeabile fino a 200 metri rolex falsi sotto il livello del mare, antiurto, calendario, fuso repliche rolexorario e cronometro. L’orologio è molto leggero e comodo da indossare infatti, questo orologio pesa solo 80 orologi replica italia grammi.

13 April 2017 at 05:57

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

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

The Time I Got Sent to the Naughty Step

The naughty step is only as powerful as the child allows it to be. I once sent my son there and 20 seconds later he came racing through the living room on his fucking bike. I briefly tried to return him to his pleasantly carpeted penitentiary but I was far too busy giggling. On another occasion, my lad wouldn’t go to bed and instead plonked himself down on the bottom of the stairs in defiance. I started to threaten him with a trip to the dreaded step of naughtiness. ‘IF YOU DON’T GET TO BED RIGHT NOW, I’ll, erm….’ I tailed off as I realised he was already sitting on the effing naughty step and my threat now made less sense than Welsh hip-hop. I could see on his little face, he’d worked this out too. He threw me a smirk that said, ‘You’ll do what, knobhead?’ I felt it crucial not to back down. So I continued: ‘I’LL PUT YOU ON THE NAUGHTY STEP, YOUNG MAN!’ ‘But I’m already on it!’ he snorted. My brain turned to scrambled egg. ‘WELL THEN!’ I had nothing. Bu

Sam Avery

Search This Blog