Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Inside My Mind

I thought it would be beneficial if I gave you an insight into my mind. This is the kind of thing I think about all day every day, and usually you have the advantage of thorough editing as I attempt to turn my thoughts into blog posts. Today I thought I’d give you the unedited version, because I thought it would be interesting, but mostly because I couldn’t be bothered to edit it.

I think if you had a baby and named it Spartacus there’d be a lot of pressure on that child to excel in life, like he wouldn’t feel he could degrade himself by getting some kind of sad office monkey job or perhaps a job on a switchboard or something, because people would ring up and he’d say ‘Hello, Spartacus speaking’ and they’d be all like ‘Cool name bro, but shouldn’t you be out rebelling against society or something?’. He could end up with serious self-esteem issues if you gave him such a weighty name and he essentially does nothing with his life. Same goes for a name like Superman, although a name with such gravitas could propel the child to make more of himself, like become a lawyer or a doctor or something. Imagine lying in a hospital bed feeling rotten when all of a sudden a guy comes in with a white coat and says ‘Hi, I’m Doctor Superman’ – you’d instantly feel more comfortable. And plus, if you were called Superman, you’d definitely always wear the outfit under your shirt, so just in case you needed to you could pull your shirt open and reveal the big ‘S’.

Sloppy Seconds

I’m dreading Noah’s 18th birthday, even if it is 16 years away. Why? Because when my wife and I inevitably break out the old albums to embarrass him in front of his girlfriend, we’ll struggle to find any photos of him; and, as we scrabble around in boxes of memories it’ll be us who are the embarrassed ones. And then we’ll find a photo and triumphantly hold it aloft as it flaps sadly in the air, by which time everyone will have gone home.

Finding a photo of my eldest son, Isaac, wouldn’t be a problem at all. In fact there’s a whole box in the loft full of memorabilia from his past: his hospital wristband from when he was born, the first drawing he created – and, of course, a good two or three albums crammed full of photographs.

Of course, we don’t love Noah any less; it’s just that with your firstborn you religiously hoard everything about them, some people even going so far as to keep their child’s first tooth (when it falls out naturally, of course. Punching your child in the mouth to gain a memento is, at best, illegal).

With subsequent children, though, things are different. If your first child drops his dummy on the floor, you pick it up, sterilise it, replace it, and watch your child very carefully for the next 24-48 hours. With your second, you pick it up, dust it off, and plop it back in their mouth. With your first child, you keep everything they do. With your second, you ooh and aah, stick it on the fridge door, and then throw it away when you next spring clean, saving only the really good ones for the memento box.

It’s not just physical mementos: with Isaac we sat and taught him his colours, his numbers, and so on. With Noah, we just don’t have as much time. He’s not falling behind, but he certainly isn’t at the level Isaac was at at his age. Mind you, as I’ve written before, they’re completely different, and so its unfair to compare. Noah can throw a ball with incredibly accuracy; Isaac shrieks whenever I throw a ball to him, but he can write a darn good story and he’s far ahead of his age bracket at spelling and maths. But if you were to base our parenting purely on the number of photographs we have, you’d be forgiven for thinking Noah was sloppy seconds.

Sick with Worry

Someone once told me that you don’t know the meaning of worry until you become a parent – and ever since I’ve become a dad, I know exactly what they’re talking about.

Fuelled by horrific news stories like this and this, I sometimes find my anxiety rising to epic proportions. In fact, if I were to sit and think about just how many horrible things could happen to my children every day – illness, disease, cancer, abduction, injury – I’d never let them leave the house. In fact, I wouldn’t let them leave their bed, and if I did I’d insist that they were wrapped in their duvets to prevent any nasty bruises if they fall over (which they invariably will, because the duvet will be around their legs).

But I can’t, of course. It’s probably against the law, for one thing, and a bit weird, for another. I have to let them live, knowing that they run the risk of bumps and scrapes, and trusting that when they’re ill they’ll recover, and hoping that they never become the victim of something awful. And all the while my anxiety will mean I quiver inside like a child molester in a playground – which, ironically, is one of my biggest fears.

Gobsmacked

I’m gobsmacked. Speechless. And believe me, that doesn’t happen often.

For the past five days ‘Goodbye, Pert Breasts’ and ‘Teething Pains’ have been available to download for free. You are probably already aware of this, as I’ve been tweeting about it incessantly to the point where I’m losing most of my real-life friends, as they’re sick of me.

I guessed I’d sell a few hundred, at most, and I’d have been more than happy with that. Hey, at least it gets the word out there, right? But then I read the sales reports, and nearly threw up over my keyboard.

Goodbye, Pert Breasts: 5,242

Teething Pains: 1,545

Total: 6,787

Whoa. 6,787 books downloaded. 6,787 people have my book(s). Both were number 1 and number 2 in the Top 100 Amazon Bestsellers in Parenting (and, bizarrely, ‘Self Help Guides’). ‘Goodbye, Pert Breasts’ even lingered around in the Top 10 Free Downloads across the whole of Amazon, like a suspicious youth loitering by the bus stop.

Yes, I know that anyone will download something if it’s free, but for me this is still the best thing that’s happened since I wrote these books – and it’ll certainly look good on my CV. 6,787 people can’t be wrong, right?

A huge thank you to everyone who has downloaded a copy. Thanks to you, I’ve been sporting Happy Face for most of the week, even when I’m on the loo.

This is not a post about parenting, so if that’s what you’re here for, then you’re better off looking at another post. Scroll down, you’ll find something. This post is about Cash4Phones, and how you can overcome their weedy little scams.

Continue Reading »

This is Sweet Fanny Adams.

Don’t let the photo fool you, she’s a cow.

She’s here to tell you that from now until Saturday you can download ‘Goodbye, Pert Breasts’ and ‘Teething Pains’ from Amazon to your Kindle for free. It’s not even like it’s buy one, get one free, or buy two, get the third free, or buy one, get the other one for a penny (nice try, Holland & Barrett).

It’s simply the best deal you will ever get on these two books: download them for absolutely nothing. You’d be a fool not to.

Click on the images below to get downloading…

    

Edit:

This is what I’m talkin’ bout. Thank you.

It is a sentence which has been spoken by every parent, and it goes a little something like this.

‘Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids. I wouldn’t change them for the world. But…

As the arrival of our third child draws ever closer, the number of conversations between me and my wife which begin with this disclaimer seems to be on the rise. There are a plethora of endings that can be stuck onto the backside of this opening sentence, like…sticking a Lego brick onto another Lego brick. Or perhaps sticking something onto something else using Superglue, or another form of adhesive (it really depends on the material you’re sticking).

If we didn’t have kids we’d have loads of money.
If we didn’t have kids we’d have spare time.
If we didn’t have kids we could go to the pub right now, or perhaps for a nice walk. (To the pub.)
If we didn’t have kids we could go on holiday to the Bahamas, but that’d be too hot for my pasty white skin, so perhaps somewhere like Bangor would be more appropriate. But at least the Bahamas would be an option.

Sadly, these are luxuries we forfeited when we very first laid eyes on a pee-soaked stick and a little blue cross. And, in exchange for giving up most of our spare time and all of our money, we received two little terrors who eat us out of house and home but give us better memories than any trip to the Bahamas. And, in my softest moments, I look at them and think: who needs money anyway?

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 3,090 other followers