Skip to main content

8 Things I Hate About Parenting


I love my kids more than anything but here's the 8 Things I Hate About Parenting. (In the interest of balance, I've already posted my 10 Favourite Things About Parenting.)

1.THE NEVERENDING RESPONSIBILITY
You’ve had a shit day in work. You’re tired, frustrated and on the brink of snapping. All you want to do is lie on the couch with a glass of wine and enough chocolate to make Augustus Gloop blush. But you can’t because you’re a responsible parent and despite technological advances babies still can’t bath themselves.

2.THE LACK OF SLEEP
Sleep feels like a hobby I used to really enjoy but have recently drifted away from. Like skiing, I’ve still got all the gear but never get the chance to use it these days.

3.GETTING FATTER AND FATTER
When I’m tired my resistance to sugary shite disappears like a fart in a wind tunnel. But it’s not just sweets - finishing off their meals, eating double choc chip cookies at 3am while sobbing in the kitchen in my undies, or just doing fuck all exercise for the last 19 months - I’m piling on the pounds like an actor who’s been cast for the live-action role of Mr Blobby.

4.YOU'RE ALWAYS SKINT
Once you’ve bought all the initial gear, babies don’t cost that much week to week. But ours are now in nursery two days a week and growing quicker than Super Mario after one of those weird mushrooms and these days I can’t afford basic essentials like new trainers and Amazon Prime.

5.YOU CAN'T DRINK PROPERLY
I still have the odd glass of wine but I’m talking about proper drinking. The kind where you start so early you’re dancing to the National Lottery theme tune when your taxi arrives. Even given the chance to do that now I’d end up in bed by 8.30pm due to my alcohol tolerance dropping lower than a grasshopper’s ballbag.

6.CONSTANTLY WORRYING ABOUT THE WORLD
The world is TERRIFYING. It always was but before I was a parent I didn’t notice or care. Now that my kids are here it feels a lot more real and immediate. From racial hatred to climate change, nuclear war to Donald Trump, I’m gonna buy a job-lot of cotton wool to wrap my kids up in.

7.HAVING NO NICE CLOTHES
I’ve got two nice shirts and neither fit me. (See point 3.) The rest of my stuff is stained like a peep show floor. Worse still, I don’t even CARE. If my standards continue to plummet at this alarming rate I’ll be wearing Crocs before Christmas.

8.YOU'VE GOT NOTHING ELSE TO TALK ABOUT
What did I talk about pre-kids? Was I a mute? Even on the rare occasion when the wife and I get out for a meal we spend the entire time talking about them. (Which is really nice unless you’re with someone who doesn’t have kids and they couldn’t give a flying fuck about your son’s first smile and how wonderful it made you feel.)

I'm a stand up comic and dad to toddler twins. I post all new blogs to my Facebook page.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

10 Things I've Learned as a Parent This Week (#29)

1.I cannot believe I EVER complained about being tired pre-kids. 2.That moment when you think there's something seriously wrong with your baby but quickly realise they're just having a massive shite. Ridiculous. 3.The key to cleaning Weetabix off the floor is not to leave it for 10 days. 4.I'm struggling to come to terms with the fact my next lie in will be in 2026. 5.I can recite all the words to The Furchester Hotel yet struggle remembering my own PIN number. 6.They should make talking baby toys swear. Just once or twice a year to keep us interested. 7.I could pick out the noise of a dummy hitting the floor in the middle of an earthquake. 8.Putting shoes on a baby will make you twice as late. 9.I could shave a chimp with ADHD quicker than I can dress my son. 10.Only if they ever make me a grandad will my boys truly understand how much I love them. I'm a finalist in the MAD Blog Awards 2016 and you can vote for me in both '

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 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