Father Of 4 Daughters Refuses To Sugarcoat His Instagram Pics, Has A Massive Following Online (New Pics)

“What goes 150mph without leaving the confines of isolation? A twin turbo powered cardboard box, that’s what. Granted the aerodynamics were a bit rubbish & their road manners would bring about an instant driving ban, but thanks to a large Amazon box (that contained nothing for me FYI), I helped the girls leave the house & do a flying lap of the nurburgring without stepping a foot outside. Was the effort worth it? In a word – yes. They ate their lunch there, played in there and generally had the best day. The only negative – the constant noise of cars for 2 hours but I’ll take that. Never underestimate the power of a cardboard box.”

“Had I known that volunteering to take all 4 girls swimming would result a public body shaming at the hands of my own off spring & a day light mugging by a vending machine that refused to fork over the poppets, I probably would have just stayed at home. It’s not the swimming that I hate. It’s the 10 minutes in the family changing cubicles I despise – A battery farm of naked families all contained in 6 by 6 ply wood boxes within inches of eachother – all arguing about who got mummy’s pants wet, where that random plaster that little Timmy is licking came from and why no one has any sodding 20ps for the locker. Not content with this uncomfortable setting, my girls decided to very loudly state as I undressed – “look, look – it’s daddy’s willy!’ This was closely followed by laughter from them, several others kids 1 cubicle over & a passing adult who couldn’t contain themselves. Then to top it all, as my girls finished changing, they swung the door open &, as if in a budget red light district that specialised 35+ men who haven’t exercised in a while, exposed me in my birthday suit to any passes by that fancied a free gander. No slush puppies today girls, daddy needs to leave this place immediately.”

“There are 9 standard unwritten rules when it comes to bath time that all parents must learn & follow: 1). whoever runs the bath must milk it for as long as possible. Swishing the water to make bubbles & thereby extending this short stay-cation is completely allowed as its technically still doing the job. 2). You absolutely must make towers out of soapy hair & time how long it stays in position 3). If you’re given a bubble beard, you MUST pretend to father Christmas complete with voice, even if it’s June. 4). If you’re on your own, you’re totally aloud to skip bath time now and again as your other half will never know. As the old proverb goes “If a tree falls in the forest and no ones there to hear it, does it make a sound?” Same is true with bath time. Just ensure that you take steps to make it look like the kids touched water (i.e. splash some water around, move the bath Matt etc). 5). It doesn’t matter how much you cover your tracks, they’ll always find out you skipped bath time. 6). There is no such thing as too much conditioner when it comes to curly hair. 7). Never ever leave a full bottle of shampoo in the hands of child unless you want to return to £5’s worth of product in the bath and an empty container 8). If you finish the bath with more than 50% of the water still in the tub, this counts as winning at life. 9).. It’s totally ok to leave the kids clothes in a pile on the floor and forget about them, only to rediscover them the next evening. Have I missed any?”

“The list of ‘Things to not do’ with kids grows with each passing year – Don’t give your kids the password to your phone, unless you want a phone bill with 3 zeros. Don’t give them the wrong coloured cutlery unless you want to be on the receiving end of stares that could freeze the surface of the sun. Don’t say “if you’re still hungry, you can have fruit” unless you want a banana surgery removed from you eye socket & latest addition which we recently learnt – don’t, under any circumstances, let your friend bring round a tiny Chihuahua puppy, let them hold it and fall in love in the space of 30 seconds, and then yank it away, unless you want an afternoon of Armageddon size tantrums and a constant stream of abuse about how mean you are for not buying a puppy that wasn’t for sale in the first place. Lesson learnt.”

“team work makes the dream work. This is especially true if dream in question is to commit domestic based petty snack theft. And what better partner is there to have than your very own genetic clone – this enables the thieves to achieve things to couldn’t do on their own, have water tight alibis and cause genuine confusion when in a police line up.  There are however some down sides: 1). these 2 obviously never watched an episode of CSI as the amount of forensic evidence Left at the scene could have filled a bin bag. 2). Double the people means double the noise – they were as subtly as a 1970’s Elton John outfit. And finally, 3). when the caught in act, they immediately turned on each other to save their own skin – Lucky for them I still struggle to tell them apart – In the end I just ate the biscuits and walked away. Crime never pays girls. “

“You know those moments in life when you turn around & see your partner not as the mother of your children, or the person who shouts at you for not doing the jobs you promised you do, but forgot about but instead as the person you’re lucky enough to have love you despite all your faults? As we silently slipped out of the house to gorge on a slice of child free time & the baby sitter talked at length with the girls about YouTubers I’ve never heard of – I captured one of those moments. I’m sure that the summer solstice sunset in the background helped as well as the peonies that @mother_of_daughters lugged around (that look suspiciously like a photoshoot prop, but was actually a gift for a friend). What ever it was, I’m a lucky man.”

“This week my eldest has been doing sex education at school. Shes very mature about it & having a midwife as a mum, they know a lot more than your average kid, no ‘front bottoms’ or ‘nunnys’ in this house, it’s strictly a ‘vagina’ affair (which coincidently would be a great title for a drama series on TV) That said, she’s chosen tonight (when @mother_of_daughters is away) to ask questions about men which makes me feel like an embarrassed child, but i promised to tell her the truth. My personal favourites – “do you wear a condom daddy?” Me – “Yes”. Then why do you have so many children? Touchè. “Have you and mummy had sex more than 3 times?” I laughed proudly – “Way more……like at least 9 or 10 times” ( I didn’t want to come across as a sex crazied maniac). Can wait to until she asks if I’ve ever masturbated…..I will actually curl up in a ball and die.”

“Love is understanding when someone needs to have a blow out & not be a parent for a bit. Love is agreeing to your other half staying out for the night with friends via text at 10.30pm without arguing. Love is knowing 50% of the parenting team is rendered useless and being ok with it. Love is driving to get chicken nuggets & a chocolate milkshake when they resurface in the same clothes as the day before. Love is letting adult headache sufferers have a nap. Love is letting that nap turn into a sleep & convincing the kids mummy’s gone out so inquisitive children stay away from closed bedroom door. Love is remembering all the above has been done for me before and & that the brownie points I earned today will once again be traded in when I’m in the same situation sometime in the future & my brain feels like its been put in a blender & made into an inedible smoothie. Love is in sickness & in health and hangovers definitely count as sickness!”

“Ever wanted to look like a slightly eccentric grandmother? Let your kids give you a make over….. If you have daughters (and even if you don’t) there’s a strong chance that your head has been commandeered as a make up practice surface where the phase “less is more” doesn’t apply. In these circumatances, the use of eye liner is measured in gallons, foundation is wielded like fosting, lip gloss is liberally applied not only to the exterior of your luscious lips but also into your mouth (why?!) and glitter (otherwise known as the Satan’s STD as you can’t get rid of the sodding stuff) sets up home in your hair for the foreseeable future. At least I can now confidentially say I’m officially “the prettiest of them all” – and by “them” I assume she meant stupid dads who say yes to everything & secretly love getting make overs.”

“”Daddy, I really want a fringe” ⠀
“Can you wait until tomorrow, it’s late now and you’re supposed to be in bed. It’s 10pm”
“Ok”
45 minutes later…..⠀
“Daddy, I cut myself a fringe”⠀
“I give up.””

“I’ve woken up to my fair share of strange things, but this morning took the biscuit. Somewhere between @mother_of_daughters leaving at 4.30am for work & 6.15am when I woke, Delilah decided to drag her half slumbering carcus the vast distance of 3 metres from her room to my room. The only problem was that her batteries were deader than a cheap toy the day after Christmas, so despite her best efforts, she literally fell at the last hurdle & instead decided to do a rather convincing impression of a door stop. So close & yet so far. Don’t worry, she didn’t have floor boards imprinted on her face – I transported her to my bed & spent the next 30 minutes with my arm slowly losing circulation as it was trapped under her unconscious frame, while she snored like an aging donkey with a sinus infection. All I could do was stare at the ceiling & think about that old ‘Friends’ episode tactic – “hug for her, roll for you” – man, I learnt so much from that show.”

“No, this is not a background extra milking their scene in some low budget B movie horror film. It’s the moment when I was getting headshots taken for my book & Ottie decided she absolutely positively couldn’t give me a moment to myself – transforming my moment, very much into her moment. Clemmie scooped her up seconds later & I can laugh at this now but it does remind me just how hard it can be to achieve the simplest of tasks when a wailing child is within close promixity.”

“”Right, are you all ready for bed?” “No.” “Please just stay in bed, it’s taken ages to get you in here – just tell me what you need & I’ll get it.” Too late, she’s already gone and legged it down stairs, leaving my sprawling on the floor after a miss timed tackle. After some smashing & shouting, Delilah returns with an umbrella and sunglasses. “Why?” “Because my beds too hot & I want to stay cool”

Sure.

Toddler logic is wonderful. Not sure if she meant ‘querky cool’ or ‘temperature cool’, but she nailed both in one go. “

“No one ever asks you if you want to become a big brother or sister. it just kind of happens and before you know it, without having submitted a single application form, you’re thrust into an unpaid job as a parent support worker with zero training & a benefits package that includes getting less attention & being left to fend for yourself. Some react to this new found responsibility as if they’d be told to drink a lethal cocktail of battery acid, snake venom and the tears of a 1000 orphaned puppies – they contort their faces at the very idea of the small people that share their DNA. Others are like Marnie. With no encouragement, they pick up the gauntlet & they become their friends, they pick them up when they’re down, carry them when small legs get tired, make them smile when they’re sad & they take their role of setting an example seriously. I have no idea where she came from, but she makes our lives just that little bit easier. Here’s to big sisters and brothers everywhere – even the reluctant ones – you may not know it, but the littlest help is saving your parents sanity (and probably marriage!).”

“There are moments during your life that seem so far removed from reality that you can’t quite compute them and your brain turns into a sort of  underdone omelette. On my commute home, I had one such moment. While waiting for the tube, I looked up to find a 12ft post of @mother_of_daughters staring back at me – my brain basically shut down and I descended into fanboy mode. “That’s my wife!” Of course, no one else cared, but I do. Being British, we don’t crow about our achievements but I feel the need to share my pride of Clemmie and her hard work, so I will. From her blog that helped so many pregnant women, to her work at hospital, the books she’s written, the body positivity messages she puts out there, her podcast she spent months to normalise all types of birth, the jewelry she helped design and the working partnerships she’s built over the last 5 years like this one with @marksandspencer – she’s amazing & I’m just glad I get to hang on her coat tails for the ride. Oh, and I also now I get to say that I’m married to a model – if only I could tell my 15 year old self – he be thrilled. 11 year anniversary tomorrow and like a fine wine, it just gets better as the years go by!”

“So it seems that if you rip out a bathroom and just leave the bath in the garden because you’re too lazy to sell it on eBay and give it enough time, it will become very ‘on trend’ – I was just 3 years ahead of the curve. Next stop, I’m going put a microwave in the bathroom and a dishwasher in kids bedroom. Watch this space – you’ll all be doing it in 5 years time….probably. Seriously though, should I keep the bath in the garden? (I remember once someone ripping into me on my other account for having bath in the garden – I guess some people just have no style…”

“Post vasectomy, the doctor gave me this advice – ‘take it easy for a couple of days & try to just lie on the sofa”, he then smiled and continued “but I know you’ve got 4 daughters, so that’s unlikely. Just be careful”. 24 hours later & with Clemmie reliving her youth by watching the Spice Girls & singing ‘Wannabe’ at the top of her lungs, I planned on following his advice. The timing was perfect – our new sofa from @sofadotcom arrived today, so my mission was to get some practice in for Fathers day & spend a considerable amount of time making a perfect imprint of myself on the cushions. The stage was set – a pizza & cold beer with in reaching distance & a strategically placed cold bag of sweetcorn for comfort – Bliss. This was the precise moment that I recieved an early fathers day gift – my first post op nut shot from Delilah (thanks Anya for capturing the moment). Luckily my tears just rolled off the wipe clean fabric. Fathers day will be spent attempting to set a new world record for being motionless while necking arnica & protecting myself. Wonderful.”

“I know you’re not supposed to show your kids crying or upset, but when I came across this whilst scrolling through memories today, it was so real and representative of every walk or outing we ever go on, I just had to share it. Is it just me, or does her twin seem to have a smug look on her face about the whole incident? Leaves me wondering if she tripped on her own or was pushed by her carbon copy. Whatever happened, it looks like a prime candidate for caption competition to me…… Don’t worry, I’m sure the mental scares have worn off by now……probably.”

“Despite donning my battered invisible parenting flack jacket which can deflect most of the stresses of life with children, there is one munition that it’s powerless to stop & really should be be made illegal by leaders the world over. The prolonged whinging & whining that eminates for 3 year olds has the ability to cut through you like a surgeons knife & leaves you huddled naked in the foetal position, wishing it would all just stop. That’s why this morning, after 3.5 hours of a sustained audio assault of dull droning directed at me for no particular reason, other than the sport of watching a grown man unravel, I found myself wishing I could go back to the simpler days. The days when they would lie in the baby bunk beds I constructed by stacking cribs on top of each other & I could be in their presence without wanting to eat my own ears. I know I shouldnt say this and perhaps this is rose tinted glasses, but I found that baby stage so much easier than the small shouty humans we’ve got right now. Sorry new parents, I think you’ve got the easy stage!”

“Here’s to all the father’s out there. To the fresh faced new dads & the ones who have war stories and experience lines. To the ones who act as human climbing frames, that fix broken things, that know all the lines to kids TV shows & that devour the kids left over food. To father’s who strive to set benchmark of what men should be so high, that no future boyfriend’s will ever match up. To the fathers who are a shoulder to cry on, not someone to cry about. To the dads that get on with life without making a drama, that stand in the middle of arguments instead of starting them, that counsel and guide the new generation to be better than themselves, that hold hands and give bear hugs that are accompanied with a good dose of beard rash. To the dads who stay at home, to the ones that work & to the ones that don’t. To the dad’s that tell terrible jokes & are a constant embarrassment to their offspring but see the fun in life, that smile and know that that they are doing their best for the ones they love. To every type of father there is out there – Happy father’s Day – be proud you can call yourself ‘dad’ – it’s a true privilege.”

“No, you’re not seeing double & you don’t need a new glasses prescription – today my twins held another pair of twins and my phantom ovaries basically exploding all over the place. But while I exchanged war stories, tips and tricks with my first-time-parent friends over BBQ food and breast feeding breaks, we couldn’t help but wonder: if you have a choice (which you don’t), would you rather have twins as your first kids like my friends have or after you’ve got some kids under your belt like us? There’s no right or wrong answer and both have their pros and cons but it’s something I’ve often thought about – have twins first and you haven’t nothing to compare it to so you just get on with it. Have twins after having 1 or 2 first and you have the experience but you also have other attention seeking offspring  to look after as well. What do you think’s easier? (fyi theres nothing easy about multiples and hats off to the parents of these two – you’re doing brilliantly. !)”

“This little hand is no ordinary hand: When life’s moving too fast and your focus is gone, when the noise is too much and your struggling to hear your own thoughts, When the world’s too big and you’re feeling insignificant, holding this little hand has the power to shrink it all down, to mute the world and to bring the cosmos to a grinding, momentary halt. Because this little hand, which I know so well, puts things into perspective and reminds me of what’s actually important. Whether it’s reaching out for reassurance, slowly stroking the back by neck while we hug, clasped in my hand for security, wiping a tear or squeezing my face, this little hand can make mountains crumble and tornadoes vanish on the breeze, with seemingly no effort at all. This little hand is the reason I’m proud to have people call me dad and reminds me how privileged I am to be able to play a part in the life of the person it’s attached to. Hold their hands tightly before they stop asking to hold yours.

Not my normal kind of post I know, but I’m feeling feelings this evening and needed to write it down.”

“One day you’re quietly getting on with life, the next you’re being told that your daughter has been diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. In that moment, the world seemingly grinded to a halt. We’re no strangers to the A&E waiting room, but this time it was different – this time it won’t get better or be ok after being in a cast – this, unfortunately, is for life and that’s the bit we’re all slowly coming to terms with. The last week has been a whirlwind of hospital stays, meeting doctors, nurses, dietitians and a lot of quick learning and at the centre of it has been an extremely brave little girl who understandably has alot of questions. The hardest part is answering things like ‘was this my fault? Did I do something wrong?” – and the answer is of course not – Type 1 just happens. The part I feel most guilty about is not seeing the signs, so thank god Clemmie was on the case – she put it all together, raised the alarm and got her into hospital before things became dangerous. It turns out there’s been a recent rise in type 1 diabetes in children, so I wanted to highlight the symptoms to look out for – the 4 T’s: 
1). Tired – extreme exhaustion and irritable behaviour 
2). Thirst – drinking alot more than usual 
3). Toilet – going to loo more frequently, especially at night 
4) Thinner – Marnie lost a lot of weight in a short space of time – I mistakenly put it down to a growth spurt. 

She’s now insulin dependent which means quite a changes to our lives, but with the love and support of family and the wonderful @nhsmillion and @diabetesuk, we aim to make this as easy as possible for our little girl.”

“Making a plan the night before travelling with the family to festival is essentially making an exhaustive list of things that you’re destined to fail at, ending in a collection of people related to eachother, crammed in car, all hating eachother. Everyone up by 7am – nope. Every needs to help with the jobs – 3 kids immediately vanish to watch the TV & one goes for a 45 minute shower. Only 1 bag each – we’ve moved everything we own 4 hours down the motorway. Be out of the house by 10am sharp – We shut the door while mentally signing family divorce papers at 12.30pm because we all hate eachother. No snacking in the car until at least an hour into the journey – all the crisps have been devoured within 3 miles of home. But we’re here & despite bringng way too much stuff, everyone is happy, ready to shake off the routine and lose themselves to the music. Bring on @campbestival 2019!”

“At the grand age of 3, Delilah has had her first holiday romance. But I’ve not had to worry about where she’s secretively snuck off to or who she’s holding hands with, because the object of her affections is, in fact, me. Delilah has drowned me in a tusami of love and adulation and for the last 3 days has stuck to me like a shadow with separation anxiety on a really sunny day. We’ve now spent so much time in extremely close proximity to eachother that even though we dressed separately, we’ve started to look like mirror images of eachother (if the mirror in question gave you the ability to go back in time & see yourself as a child). So now that I have a mini me, what should we do? Hold the world to random for $100 million dollars obviously (said in a Dr. Evil voice). I wonder if we’ll be BFF’s back home or if this was just a holiday fling?”

“After extensive field testing last week, I can confirm 2 things: 1). Sir Isaac Newton was right and despite my best efforts to put Delilah in a lower earth orbit, Gravity does exist – even in France and 2). After 10 years of conducting these types of important holiday based scientific experiments that help push the human race forwards in our quest for advancement, @mother_of_daughters heart still flat lines and all that well earned colour in her skin from lying motionless of a sun lounger drains out of her quicker than a gallon of water poured into an old carrier bag that’s just been used for archery practice. You would have thought shed be used to it by now – I’m doing it for the betterment of the human race! (And for the smiles on my daughter’s face, obvs).”

“How do you go from pretending to be interested in hearing about the exploits of a Youtuber I’ve never heard of to struggling to explain gender reassignment surgery & the logistics of how you fashion a vagina out of penis? The answer – Talk to an 8 year old. Marnie is slap bang in the middle of the goldilocks zone of intrigue (much younger and she wouldnt think to ask, much older & she’d think she knew it all) which means in the last week along I’ve muddled my way through breast cancer, periods, mortgages, the age of the universe, what dreams are, time zones and how electricity is made. I swear If game shows ever run out of random general knowledge questions, they should battery farm the contents of 8 year olds minds as their ability to conjure up queries that leave you feeling thicker than a bank vault door & quietly asking google for the answers whilst on the toilet, is unmatched. Anyone else recently had a conversation with a child & suddenly thought “oh god, I’m out of my depth here, Im at the end of limited knowledge that I got from an article & now I’m talking s**t….””

“What would you do if someone asked you what socks you’d like to wear today? Most normal people would probably pick some socks, right? Not my girls. I can only assume that the twins are dramatically behind on rehearsals for their Vegas show – ‘Transparent magic’ – as instead of picking socks, Ottie made like a junior contortionist / glamourous assistant, dislocated her spine and hid in a see through box. Then Delilah, the front man of this C grade 2 piece, promptly stood on it, shouted what I assumed were garbled magic words directly at me & waited for her sister to vanish. Hands down the worst trick in history. You can through the box girls. Suffice it to say, the only thing to vanish was my patience and Ottie went to nursery bare foot. “

“Who would have thought that holding a starfish would be the thing to highlight the importance of remembering that twins are individuals. Despite looking that they’ve been cut from the pages of a real life ‘spot the difference’ book, they are most definitely not the same – they are unique in their own glorious ways. One is fearless, comes with a decibel warning & could easily charm you into buying a car with no engine for above the asking price & still make you think you’d got a good deal. The other is more reserved & thoughtful, which often leaves me wondering: is it hard to live in the shadow of a louder version of yourself? Do you feel pressure to live up to the actions of your genetic copy cat, so as not to be seen as different? So when faced with the prospect of holding a starfish for the first time ever, one jumped at the chance. And the other paused. In the end they both did it, but did she do it because she wanted to, or because her sister did it first? I have so many questions, but Either way, I’m proud of both of them for being who they are.”

“There once was a girl, who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead. When she was good, she was very very good, but when she was bad….her tantrums had the power to boiled the worlds oceans in seconds, force planes to plummet from the skies like gravity propelled lead bullets and level cities to dust as the seismic ripples stretched out from its epic centre. If we were all perfect parents, we’d stop to sympathise and understand, but in reality, this is the point I give up, break out the biscuits and whack on the toddler crack (paw patrol) because frankly, sometimes I just don’t have the patience to find out what nonsensical thing has set this small human bomb off. But this got me thinking. Perhaps we should forget nuclear fission or renewable power sources – if we could just harness the raw power given out by a tantruming 3 year old, we could solve the world’s energy crisis in an afternoon. All we need is a large play group, some kids that can’t share and some toys, but not enough to go around. Infinite energy & Noble prize, here I come! Oh hang, didn’t monsters Inc already try something like this? Damn you Pixar!”

“Ahhh, Lego – those little blocks that 1). help make imagination a reality and 2). Cause grown adults to cry like children who’ve been biten by a pissed off pet hamster when they stand on them. Between the ages of 6 and 10, I spent most of my time in my room building stuff, chuffed that I completed packs meant for ages 12 to 14. I want my girls to have the same sort of childhood I did so I’ve desperately tried to get them into it, but patience just doesn’t seem to be something this generation has. Within 15 minutes, Marnie was project managing from the sofa, leaving me to relive my youth as I waded through a sea of plastic cubes waiting to piece the flesh on the underside of my feet. What did we manage to create in 30 minutes? A mess basically. Do your girls play Lego as mine just don’t seem interested.”

“Keep looking ………keep looking…….now you seem them!  This is just one of the ridiculous bed time routine stages that I seem to have to undertake EVERY NIGHT. Remember those days was you’d hold them in your arms, give them some milk and gaze at the beautiful face as they drifted off to sleep? Rose tinted glasses I’m sure, but over the years, the list of things I have to do to get them to go the f**kin’ sleep has grown and now its just stupid. The process goes like this: I pretend that the two girls covered by towels on the floor are rocks and promptly sit on them, then I put them in a cupboard and pretend I don’t know where they are and call their names whilst they giggle uncontrollably. Then it’s a game of catch with a one eyes polar bear called poley, closely followed by 2 books (one of which HAS to be Where’s Wally), then its a game space rockets (where I throw them as close to ceiling as possible -not recommended). Then it’s an audio book which they argue about. Finally, hugs & kisses and just as I close the door, they get out of bed and start fighting – like UFC fighting. The whole process takes 60 minutes by which time my dinner is cold and I’ve lost the will to live. And who do I have to blame? Me. I did this. Its totally my fault because I keep saying yes. ( because I can’t say no to playing with them – idiot father).”

“They said it was madness. They said it couldn’t be done. They said twins parents were resigned to forever having to deal with kids fights over the who’s turn it was sit on daddys shoulders and steer him by his ears / hair. Surely no one person could possibly give a shoulder rider to 2 children at once without assistance, a bionic exoskeleton & a spine made of steel girders that had been cold forged in cryponite. Well I’m here to tell you that they were wrong – and so the potentially Olympic sport of toddler lifting is born. Now excuse me while I look up local chiropractors and lie down “

“”Daddy what do you work at?” Boomed down the voice from up on high. It’s Friday and I work from home which means I share my office with a house full of girls that think silence should be extinct. The conference call erupted into stifled laughter as I cursed my inability to hit ‘mute’ in a timely fashion. The truth is, not one of my girls really knows what I do for a job. For all the know, I could just lock the door and cover myself in ice-cream while singing Mariah Carey songs all day.
Mummy “catches babies”, that’s easy. Daddy is a lot more vague – “he looks at computers, talks on the phone loudly to people while mouthing the words ‘go away’ and waving his arms alot, and drinks tea all day.” I’ve even heard clemmie say that I work in HR…..which i don’t. I’m basically chandler bing – I’m a transpondster. Is this the case for everyone that works in an office. Is your job indescribable to kids? I bore myself when I describe mine….not exactly inspiring the next generation but it puts food on the table at least!”

“An hour before this picture was taken, we’d had a blazing row over who’s turn it was to check the kids home work and why the house looked like a explosion at a homewares outlet. The kids were screaming, no one was helping and it escalated to the point no one wanted to be in each others company. Under these cicumstances, the smallest things are magnified X 100 and it’s exerts pressure on all of us. A pressure that can be hard to cope with. Just know that behind closed doors, the vast majority of people struggle in some way or another, it’s just a matter of degrees. So here’s to those trying to balance it all – don’t be too hard on yourself or eachother when you fail. You may hate eachother from time to time, but in end, it’s the people around you that will get you through. If you’re struggling at all, have a look at my stories from today. I hope it helps. “

“Yes they are painting common house bricks which could be interrupted as lazy parenting, but let me explain. If there’s 1 essential lesson I’ve learnt on this horizonless journey through parenthood, it’s that sometimes it’s ok to do less. Maybe it’s just my girls, but there seems to be a clear inverse relationship between the amount of time I spend flogging myself to death to set up overly engineered dens, prefectly laid out tea parties & Michelin starred play doh restaurants that Giles Coran would rave about, and the time my attention deficient offspring actually play with the fruits of my labour. So that’s why I’m now perfectly comfortable plonking a dusty old house brick on a table, letting the twins go to town with the poster paints & walking away – a brick or an empty box seems to trump a prefectly presented teddy bears picnic with matching cutlery any day of the week, so my message to you is – do less and be ok with it – embrace the law of diminishing returns, minimise effort & maximise returns! FYI – The irony of them mixing all the colours into a brown sludge & then paint the brick the same colour as it was before was totally lost of them, but I found it hilarious.”

“Here’s a cost effective & stress free way of keeping the kids cool in the heat. Simply decide to rennovate your house & let builders move in for 7 weeks, covering everything a thin layer of dust that drives your wife insane while you live in 1 room with literally all your belongings. Continue by removing the one working bathroom you have & place all of the contents in the garden. Then wave your wife off to Glastonbury for 4 days & make paint colour decisions without her, knowing that you’ll get it wrong & that if your whatsapp her with questions about moles breath vs. elephant dong (not a real colour fyi), you’re not likely to get a response. Finally, as your lungs become more plaster than actual human tissue, hose a 2 day garden festival & fill the now alfresco traditional rolltop bath with a hose and let them go to town. In case you hadn’t realised, this is neither cost effective nor stress free, but with the sun out, beer in hand & the door to my own domestic Armageddon closed, this almost feels like winning.”

“How to you get out of feeling down?
Social media gets a bad rep when it comes to impacting mental health, but I’m not sure that’s all that fair. Now you may just see me as ‘that dad who makes a joke out of everything’ but what you probably haven’t realised is that I use instagram as a sort of free open source therapy. I get to openly talk about my challenges, my hopes & my fears, laugh about them & then send them off into the void of cyber space, where I get feedback from others who’ve dealt with those same challenges whilst making others realise that we all struggle and it’s ok to laugh about it. And yet, recently I’ve haven’t been feeling myself. it’s not that I’m unhappy, I just feel a bit ‘blah’, a bit flat…… – like nothing matters. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been the hype man, the positive one : I see the solutions where my girls see problems. I see opportunities where others may see barriers, I basically keep things moving, but something has changed & I can’t put my finger on what it is. perhaps it’s my job. Or the summer holidays. or the lack of sleep or exercise. Maybe I need to get back on my bike or find a new hobby. Maybe I’m not fulfillled in some way that I haven’t been able to identify. whatever it is, I’m in a funk, so i’m looking to you for advice: how do you lift yourself out of a low point and get back to being you? I’m all ears as I’ve never experienced this before.”

“There comes a time in every parents life that have to face facts – The pile of baby clothes they’ve amassed over the last decade of procreation is now redundant as there are simply no more babies to hand them down to. For us, today was that day, so after mopping up the ocean of tears that accompanies this kind of earth shatter revelation, the next thing to do is organise into 3 piles: 1). Charity donations 2). give to friends and family & 3). sell. The only problem is that after 2 hours, every item that i pulled out of the musty bag we haven’t seen for 5 years was met with “oh do you remember when she wore that to so & so’s summer party?” Honestly, no I don’t as in my experience, only the women in my life seem have the ability to remember what people wore at given points in time, but now that item has some kind of inreplacable sentimental value so it’s going in pile 4). The keep pile, even though we don’t need it. The only thing more frustrating was finding clothes we’d bought only for the kids to grow before they’d worn them. They still had the sodding tags on…… In the end it’s all gone but my god, that was as long process!”

“Arrhh, the evening routine. 6 months ago this was a simple affair, but since then, I’ve introduced a complex series of actions that were meant to be ‘one offs’ to get them to bed, but have instead become staples of the witching hour. If I don’t perform, the crowd protests & now it’s a nightly variety show that I only have myself to blame for. I once wrapped them both in 1 big towel & carried them in a cotton cocoon quoting the very hungry caterpillar. Big mistake – Now it’s a thing. Then I introduced a funny voice for their bed time story. Now it’s 1 story each & multiple voices. Then I got duped into nightly shake down that involves 1 vigorous full body rub, followed by a slow rub & a stroke of the face. Then a specific set of nursery rhymes has to be performed by Google as they drink their milk (one has warm & the other cold). then it’s lights out. Of course @mother_of_daughters doesn’t have a clue about my ‘routine’ so when they ask for ‘one big one’, ‘A towel cocoon’ and ‘the rumbly voice’ she just stares, pauses and shouts “Simon! I have no idea what they want – why have you made this so complicated?! Just put them to bed and stop hyping them up! Whoops.”

“How do you make a complete dog’s breakfast out of the making the dog’s breakfast? The answer is by saying ‘yes’ to those 3 little words that have many parents recoil in terror – “can I help?” When a 3 year old offers you assistance, I find it’s usually followed by a sharp intake of breath & a slow acceptance that I’m about to lose several minutes of my life, as the simple task I was about to perform without bothering my grey matter, is transformed into an over engineered, glacially paced project where time stands still but the aging process accelerates. Add twins to the mix, and your 1 man, 30 second job has to be subdivided into 28 micro tasks which can be allocated out, which is rapidly followed up by agruments, me redoing the whole thing & a chuckle brothers style ‘to me, to you’ carrying of an item that doesn’t need 4 hands. Sorry Pablo, breakfast is now lunch.”

“Up rooting your family & setting up shop in a totally new location where you know literally no one can be daunting. It’s also a compromise – not for everyone mind you, but at least one person in the decision making partnership won’t be getting exactly what they want and in our case, it was me. I had my heart set on moving back to Bristol, to be close to my family and satisfy the country side of me by having my ears ring with the reassuring tones of that distinctive west country twang. But I swallowed my dreams and gave in for the love of my family and in hindsight, I am so glad I did. Yes, I’m further from my parents but on evenings like this as I strolled down the sandy Kent beaches with my girls & my little furry man, It doesn’t feel like I conceded or gave in, it feels like we made the right decision for our family and any initial regrets drifted away with the tide a long time ago – In short, It feels like home. If you’re on the fence about a move or nervous about a new start, the only way you’ll every know is by jumping in with both feet and seeing if you can make it work – don’t live with regrets or what might have beens – life is too short.”

“On the list of things I dislike, clothes shopping is right up there. In fact, I would rather have my nipples removed by rabid ferrets during a world wide shortage of anesthetic than set foot in a clothes shop. Yet my girls love nothing more than browsing for garms, so I usually find myself assuming my position on ‘the man chair’ outside the girls changing rooms with a vacant look across my face, waiting for a fashion show comprised solely of my daughter’s. Today however, I made the mistake. I picked up a top & said I might buy it. Within seconds, the 5 women in my life sensed a might actually purchase clothes from this decade & instantly transformed into a hive personal shoppers. Fashion advice was bellowed across the shop & clothes were thrust into my arms accompanied with cries of ‘you’d look great in this’ as I mental totted up the expense on showing an interest in a £15 top. I’d become a human mannequin. 15 minutes later, I was paying for clothes i hadn’t seen and was drenched in a stress related flash sweat that Niagara falls would have been jealous of. I’ll just put all the clothes straight in the plastic box under my bed and give them to charity in 5 years time when I next see them.”

“For any parent to have something that resembles a break while on a family holiday, it usually means that someone else has to take the kids away, preferably either into a sound proof booth or into the next county. Today I was that someone else. So what do you do with 2 girls in the middle of the Devon country side while your wife & 2 older daughters induldge in shedding brain cells to “Mama Mia! Here we go again”? Go toddler friendly celebrity spotting of course! Now I’m obviously not talking about seeking out pop stars or watching some love islander from ‘the side bar of shame’ stumble out of a bar with their anatomy out, as 3 year olds don’t give a shit about them. I’m talking about celebrities with 4 legs who live on farms because as we all know, if you’re in ‘old McDonald’, to a toddler you are a triple A list celebrity god. I never thought I see a girl fan girl over a sheep or lose then mind as a cow walked passed, but there you go. Getting the autograph of the horse was taxing but we got there in the end. “

“Has anyone else found getting their kids to eat anything that doesn’t come in a brightly coloured wrapper this summer more challenging than tasking a one winged chicken to solve a 24 sided rubiks cube in the dark? Yeah, me too. That’s why over the holidays I’ve been getting them more involved in that magical place where meals just materialise out of thin air and land in front of them, otherwise known as the kitchen. If your kid’s involved in the cooking, they’re more likely to eat the food, so I’ve given them 3 specific roles: Prep chef (which involves unpacking everything & hiding stuff like carrots in the dogs bed) quality assurance /food hygiene (eating raw ingredients that have dropped on the floor) & sink pig (washing up), where as my role is to oversee it all, which frankly is pretty simple with @goustocooking. It’s all measured out beforehand & the instructions are so easy, a 3 year old sucking on dry pasta could follow them. It’s now been 3 months of using gousto and it really has saved by our sanity this summer holiday & I’m sure it will do the same during term time! Click on the link my bio to give it a go with 50% off your first order & 30% off the rest of the month using code ‘FOD50’ and get a bit of your sanity back in the process. “

“14 years ago, while in a nightclub with floors so sticky, they could have been used as industrial fly paper, I stumbled across this girl that literally took my breath away. She’d been dancing frantically & was now bare foot, rubbing her tired soles. My chat up line was taken straight out of that best seller – ‘Things not to say to girls you want to impress’ and makes me cringe to this day – “Hi. got tired feet? You know what you need – Some scholls party feet…” After a long pause & despite coming across creepy orthotics salesman or someone with a foot fetish, she laughed & from that moment, our lives entwined. A year later we moved in together. 12 months later we had first daughter and a year after that, she did me the honour of marrying me.  11 years on and with 4 daughters in tow, she’s still taking my breath away. @mother_of_daughters , thanks for not telling me to sod off back in that club and thanks for having all the kids. I Definitely couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I’m not sure if this is down to the clock changes or @mother_of_daughters leaving for work at 4.30am, but this morning illustrated perfectly the difference between a 3 year old waking up & me, someone 12 times their age (god, that’s painful to say). A 3 year old wakes up naturally with a smile across their face & with batteries so full, the energiser bunny has considered lodging a formal compliant with the IOC, accusing them of taking performance enhancing drugs. Then they bound in for a game bedroom monopoly where they consume all the real estate & I end up instantly bankrupt & in jail (on the cold 6 inches at the edge of the bed). I on the hand, wake up aching, blinding hitting my alarm that goes off 10 minutes after I wake up (I have no idea why I set one) and hiding from the light like a vampire with overly sensitive retina all while having a soft toy forced down my throat. Sound familiar? I’m thinking a lock on the door may be a good option.”

“There can only be 2 explanation for what’s happened recently. Either I died a week ago and, like a low budget remake of Ghost, have subsequently spent my time trapped in limbo, unaware that no one can hear hear or see me, Or I’ve hit the sweet spot of parental irrelevance – One daughter who’s striving for independence, another who’s testing the boundaries by the minute & twin 4 year olds who thing it’s hilarious to ignore me and run off in opposite directions. Either way, my voice seems to carry less weight than a stick insect on a crash diet and I am just in a rut of being ignored. Anyone got any ideas how to navigate this stage? I’ve tried the softly approach and taking stuff away, bit it just doesn’t seem to do anything – help needed please!”

“Somewhere between the start of the new year (otherwise known as the “Shit Show 2020″) and now, the number ‘bedtime gang’ members has grown from 1 toy and a solitary muzzy, to 2 babies, 2 cats, a dog called buddy, Peter rabbit, buzz f**kin light-year, 2 muzzies and my very own big ted (who is essentially an OAP and just wants to be left alone) . If just one of the group of misfits is missing at bed time, short of giving them a general anesthetic , it is basically impossible to get them to sleep without ransacking the house to find the furry arsehole that’s gone MIA . Of course, this is my fault for not having a stricter bedtime bclub membership policy, but does anyone know how to reduce this number down to something less than the size of an American football team? All answers welcome.”

“It’s the little things that make being a parent so worthwhile. Perhaps this is something only dad’s of daughters will get, but at random points over the last 2 days, a smile has grown across my face when I suddenly remember that beneath my boring standard issue dad socks, my toes nails are painted luminous colours thanks to a child-led make over /spa evening on the weekend. Having 4 little women in my life is a privilege and I’m lucky I get to say I’m their daddy.
I think we can all safely say I’m not going to be scouted as the next top toe model anytime soon (is that even a professions?!) But what they lack in beauty, they now make up for in colour!”

“Let’s play a game of guess who. Guess who ate their body weight in sweets that they found wedged down the side of the seat? Who relieved themselves in an empty rocky road container without my knowledge? Who decided to leave at 7pm & arrive late at my parents house which is 4 hours away, instead of setting off at a reasonable time tomorrow? Who slept talked about dinosaurs? Who broke their head phone cable so I had to be audibly assaulted with the same episode of ‘the octonauts’ for 2 hours? Who thought having 4 kids was a good idea? Who directed me off the motorway and onto water soaked B roads in the pouring rain so that my precision cargo could back seat drive me the whole way? Out of interest – would you have left late and arrived at your destination late but knowing you’d have a full day the next day, or leave early the following day?”

“Day 1 of the holiday: “That sand’s very hot to walk on. Who wants a double shoulder ride?!” – twins in unison “MMMEEEEE!!!”. With both shoulders filled, I promptly stroll to lunch as all heads turn on the beach – I am a king among mere mortals.
Day 6 of the holiday: twins – “Double shoulder ride now daddy!!!!” – for the 30th time in a week, my verbrate scream as I crouch to let them embark and regret ever thinking that dual human transportation was ever a good idea. Lesson learnt: unless you want to be a holiday Uber service for small people who have forgotten how to walk & think their legs are solely for keeping your feet attached to their body, don’t start something that you’re no prepared to do for the entire duration of your time away. Oh, who am I kidding, I love it and so do they! I can always get a new back for my 40th.”

“For the last week I basically haven’t seen Anya & Marnie, apart from the occasional flash of tanned skin streaking past with a crew of other giggling sugar high tweens or when they needed cash. I was getting frustrated that they didn’t want to spend time with us but then @mother_of_daughters quietly asked “remember what you were like on holiday when you were their age?” Then it all came flooding back – playing nervously next to a group of similar aged kids, waiting to be noticed, being invited in and immediately becoming best buddies for life without knowing eachothers name, jumping in the sea, comparing tan lines, eating with other families, begging to leave the table as you’d arrange to meet everyone at the jetty, drinking Fanta like there was a world wide shortage, watching sunsets while trying to catch tiny fish, finding any excuse possible to stay up late and charge around with my friends with absolutely no responsibilities apart from having fun, all while my parents drank & laughed at the bar with their theirs. Then it all ends abruptly in exchanging of friendship bracelets, addresses and teary fair wells as you mourn the ending of your holiday life. It hurts a little know they’re so grown up now, but I’m weirdly proud of them for ditching us as it meant they made memories (many of which I’m sure we won’t ever know about) and got to live a little . I just wish I was 10 again! What’s your best holiday childhood memory?”

“Yet another year rolls by and with it, the amount of scrolling I have to do to find my year of birth when completing internet forms increases. I’ve now been on this planet for 37 years and although this fleshy shell I’m encased in maybe creaking a little more than it used to & I’m now definitely more salt than pepper in the beard department, internally I feel about 15 and that’s largely due to these 4 little women who are the centre of my universe. With Clemmie on a long shift and not home until 11 tonight, it was down to the girls to come up with a party and despite licking all the Icing, handing me cards they’d obviously made 10 minutes before I recieved them, opening my present, blowing out my candles and giving my a spit covered cake as a gift, I think they did a grand job. Happy birthday to me and anyone else out there that shares it with me.”

“many people may celebrate hitting a number of followers but I prefer to celebrate the number of posts and today I reach 1000 posts precisely. 1000 smiles. 1000 arguments with @mother_of_daughters about bedtime routines and who’s turn it is to read stories. 1000 hours of lost sleep. 1000 lost hair clips. 1000 snap shots of our attempts into being half decent parents. 1000 rose tinted glimpses into our journey, with an infinite number of memories still to be captured. And if I had to do it all again, there’s only one person I’d want by my side through it all because without Clemmie, these 1000 moments would have been so much harder to navigate. Bringing up girls is challenge, I’m just glad I have a partner in all of it. On to the next…”

“To my girls,
4 years. 48 months. 2.1m minutes. However you want to say it, you’ve crammed more new experiences into your brief time on this planet than I have in the last 20 years; & yet you’ve barely scratched the surface in your pursuit of happiness. A journey in which your personalised collection of moments & memories will coalesce and solidify to form the person you’re destined to become. And right now is your sweet spot as your world is free from the complexity we adults create. 
I’m proud that you are comfortable with simply being you and aren’t afraid to say things as you see them. I’m jealous that from the moment you wake to the moment you refuse to go to bed, your sole purpose in life is to collect as many smiles as possible & wrap them in the kind of laughter that only comes from true unfiltered joy, the type of laughter that can fade with time unless you exercise it regularly. I’m happy you have the ability to dance with a helium soul, effortless and free from the weight of other peoples opinions. The strength of your character can only be matched by the warmth of your hugs – a hug accompanied with eyes so tightly closed that it makes my heart a little lighter. So as you grow, please try to remember the person you are right now. The untainted version of yourself. The younger you, whose collection of smiles far outweighs their cries. As long as I’m your dad, I’ll do my best to ensure the balance stays that way. Love daddy. X”

“Are you booking one of those things.. you know…Remember when the whole family used to upsticks for a week or 2 and do the same things as they did at home, just in a slightly warmer place with less emails? What did they used to call them? oh, I know – HOLIDAYS. That special time when parents alcohol consumption goes up, screen time goes down, sand gets everywhere (this is Delilah feeding her sister a sandy chip on holiday – I could hear the sound of grit on teeth from a 100ft away) and everyone is just a slightly nicer version of their normal selves. The question is, has anyone actually got the guts to commit and book a holiday this year – at home or abroad – knowing there’s a chance it will end up a puddle of childs tears and that familiar stench of disappointment when it gets cancelled? The last time i booked a holiday was in October 2019 – we’re still waiting to go on it and I’m not holding my breath.”

“There is nothing quite like the unbridled joy you feel when a child says that rarest of sentences – “daddy, can I go to bed early tonight?” – you don’t have to ask me twice! – in under a minute, I had them in PJs with the lights out! After 1 full week of being back at school, the girls are more shattered than my dreams of retiring before the age of 30. For the first time in forever they actually wanted to go to bed and seeing an opportunity to experience an evening without child based interruptions, I obliged. By 7.10pm we were calmly lying down, listening to the dulcet tones of the guy who reads the audio book of ‘Mog the Cat’. 45 minutes later, I woke up in a child’s bed in to a cat screeching (Mog), 2 snoring daughters, drool down my cheek and a dead arm. Turns out they’re not the only ones who are knackered, the difference is that I don’t have an excuse – I’m just becoming an old fart and I’m totally comfortable with that.”

“When does the easy part of parenting kick in? What age are they when you think you’ve nailed it? Seriously – when? Because I’ve been waiting for 14 years and although the look and feel of it changes over time, nothing about it is ever straight forward. I know for anyone who’s new to the parenting game, this might not be comforting, but I’d go back to the times when I could hold an 8 month old  in one hand while they quietly did a shit in a heart beat if it meant I didnt have to deal with 5 year old twins who either yell my name constantly, argue or just grunt when they don’t get what they want and 2 older girls who suddenly become deaf when I ask for help. 
I think the problem is that the older two have figured out that parents are essentially frauds. We don’t have all the answers, we make it up as go and our powers to enforce the rules we create are limited, which are all weaknesses to exploit. I’m basically ‘parental glass’ – they see right through me and know that I’m fragile – as a result, I spend alot of time shouting up to the general direction of their rooms, only to be met with complete silence. Tell me I’m not alone with this experience! I thought having 4 kids would mean more help, but it anything, it’s just 4 times as frustrating!”

“I like to talk but sometimes photos do enough to encapsulate what watching your child grow up is all about. She used to need me to reach the leaves, now I’m just an obverver. Where did the last decade go?”

“No this isn’t a post safari photo – this is the celebration of Keith – the unsung hero of our family that puts up with us and never complains (everyone names their car right?!). Keith is 10 years old, has a dent in the door when I miss judged a McDonald’s drive thru while kids screamed “chicken nuggets!” in my ear and I lost my shit, a missing wing mirror cover that was stolen, an interior that has a thin layer of sticky residue over it that can’t be explained & old crisps jammed down his seats that have now grown new species on them, but Keith is also a place where we make memories. Here’s to Keith, and every other family car out there. You may not set any land speed records, and you may feel unloved but you are literally what keeps us moving.”

“Let’s play a game of guess who. Whilst at the garden centre (otherwise known as one of the top places parents take kids for free when they can’t be arsed to go too far from home or spend any money – others similar places include airport car parks and pet shops), One twin started a game of rearranging frankly weird cast resin domestic animals into amusing positions, but having obviously not read the memo that stated ‘sharing is caring’, forcibly stopped her sister from joining in. This slow motion cat fight, which saw plastic squirrel being used as blunt force truma weapons, was promptly broken up by a passing parental referee i.e. me), peace was restored and the other twin then entered the game and copied her sister, right down to the dog she picked, resulting in the games original creator suddenly wanting no association with game she originally developed. Now, which one is which? Actually guessing isn’t necessary – the faces tell it all. twin life is no joke. It must be hard loving with a human shadow.”

“There are seemingly so many small milestones we collect along the path of parenthood, that if you could trade them in for air miles, we’d all have a lovely free holiday to the Maldives, with enough left over to take a weekend trip to the moon and back. That said, this weekend is quite a big one – the transition from cots to big girl beds & frankly I’m an emotional cocktail that no one wants to drink – bitter sadness & scared shitless in equal measures – (If I were name this drink, it would be called ‘brown tears’). I’m Sad that the last artifacts of having babies are vanishing, but scared that, free from the constraints of their partially barred sleep zones, they’ll now wonder around like disorientated zombies whenever they feel like it, no doubt coming into our room to watch us sleep (if you’ve ever woken to a child starring at you through the darkness at 3.45am, you’ll know how is can literally make your heart flat line & have you checking your underwear for wet patches). Any tips on getting them to stay put in those first couple of days?”

“Have you ever had one of those days when you need to pinch yourself to prove you’re not dreaming? Today was one of those days. When I started this journey to share the realities of parenting 4 girls & highlighting the humour in the mundane, I never could have dreamt of the opportunities it would open up and the experiences it would afford me and family. Today we rubbed shoulders with the A list at the European premier of The Lion King and although I didn’t get a selfie with Beyonce, I did get to accompany my gorgeous girls down the yellow carpet and feel rather special – and that’s all down to you. The million of you that have chosen to click that follow button. So thank you. Thank you for your comments, for your friendships, for the laughs and the tears. Thank you for the community you’ve created. Thank you for the support you give eachother. And thank you for giving us the privilege of being able to go to events like this that provide my girls memories they can cherish. Thanks a million. Literally. “

“Opportunities for a lads night in are rarer than a steak that’s still walking around in a field mooing. So with Clemmie out and an England game on, it was essential to execute a shortened bedtime routine with military precision and timing. Kids Dinner – Picnic plates at 5pm sharp. Wanna have a bath? Not tonight, you washed the other day, a damp flannel will do. Can we have a story? Sure. But the abridged version (i.e. skip pages and ad lib a lot). Lights out and beer in on the sofa at 7.30pm sharp. Man, I wish I was this organised every night – it’s amazing what you can achieve when you’re driven! Fyi Clemmie said as she left “why don’t you pause it and just watch it later so you don’t have to rush?” – I guess she’ll never understand the importance of watching live sport at the same time as everyone else, just I’ll never understand why you have to try on 7 outfits before leaving the house…”

“Is it just me, or are the lives of 3 year olds and that of slightly eccentric elderly ladies who have simply stopped caring about what society thinks of them practically the same? Sometimes I look on at my girls and don’t see a pair of pre-schoolers free from the limitations of adult life. I see a pair of 80 something women, nattering away as if words were about to be outlawed, dressed in colour clashing clothes, a cape adorned with ‘Girl Power’ because, well why not and a 3 wheeled mobility scooter with a small doll strapped to the front it to get people talking because thats what you do it you stopped giving a s**t about societies views of you. I guess 3 is the new 80. Besties for life.”

“Here’s a poem I wrote for anyone who’s ever given a kid a shoulder ride:

No more forests of legs for you,
for up on my shoulders, there’s a marvellous view.
With panoramic horizons spanning all round, leave all your troubles down there on the ground.

But with any good shoulder ride, there are some strict rules. We’ll start off real simple – please watch your damn shoes!
Refrain from grinding them into my top, the stains are a nightmare, this HAS to just stop.

Stop wiping your snot in my lovely clean hair – I know what you’re doing whilst sitting up there!
It may be subtle & speedily done, but picking it out really isn’t that fun.
That green slimmy substance from your dark nasal cave – THAT IS NOT HAIR GEL – for god sake, please behave!

And what’s that warm feeling on the back of my neck? You wouldn’t …It can’t be….. – YOU’VE PEE’D! – WHAT THE FECK?!! I asked if you needed one ages ago, to which you replied, “I really don’t know….”.
Yet here I am, in urine soaked clothes, (with a waft of ammonia going straight up my nose), so next time please try, next time please push, or at least give me notice, so I can find you a bush!

Remove your little digits from out my eyes. Despite what you think, I don’t want a surprize.
I value my retina and value my sight – playing peek-a-boo now? That doesn’t seem right.

And Yes, you’ve been doing this for many long years, but please stop steering me by pulling my ears.
I am not a horse or a decrepit old mule, I’m human like you , and it’s really not cool.
They’re attached to my head & glued super tight, so despite trying to remove them with all of your might, 
this is will end in one simple way; you not being carried for the rest of the day.

Comply with these rules & we’ll get along fine, I’ll ignore the compression of my poor fragile spine, I’ll ignore that you’re getting bigger and bigger, that your weight has increased, & your effects on my figure.
At the end of the day, you’re my child don’t you see.
Forget everyone else, it’s just you & me. “

“T’is the season to be jolly…..however t’is also the season for children to pick up some rank virus, bring it home & transform our house into a large industrial grade petri dish, where that bacteria multiples quicker than a boat load of bored rabbits that have been fed on nothing but Viagra for a month. Armed with our universal ‘sick kid’ kit of a large kitchen bowl, enough calpol to be classified as an independent pharmaceutical company & several damp clothes, for the last 2 nights clemmie & I have been a nocturnal tag team to adjudicate a competition between the twins to see who can produce the most “Christmas spirit”, otherwise known as vomit. It’s Ho ho ho-irrble. Anyone else knee deep in bile at the moment? (fyi clemmie’s the one doing the graft as I have still managed to retained the ability from back in the baby days to sleep through the whole thing & wake to proclaim “I think they’re better – last night went ok didn’t it?!” No wonder I was asked to take the day off today.”

“Although Christmas is a magical time of the year for the kids, for the backstage crew who pull all the strings to make the ‘magic’ happen (i.e. parents) it can a never ending list of stressful festive admin that’s drives to see how quickly you can drink gin without going blind. That said, after listening to endless renditons of ‘christmas pudding’ performed by 3 year olds that would be laughed off x factor, the annual muffled swearing marathon that accompanies the unravelling of the tree lights (how, despite being neatly put in a box a year ago and not being touched, do they tangle themselves into a vipers nest of illunimations every time?!) and all the smashed decorations are swept away, there are magical moments that make you proud to be a parent – like lifting your kid to put the star on the tree. Of course we had to do this twice to avoid twin based Armageddon and pretend it was equally amazing both times, but it’s finally starting to feel like Christmas. Now where’s that gin…”

“Here’s a riddle for you: When does a Holiday, not feel like a holiday? Answer: when your twins decide that from the moment you arrive at the airport, to the moment you arrive home again a week later, that you’re the designated favourite parent & proceed to weld themselves to you with ‘Emotional Loctite’ – the strongest bond known to the human race. Don’t get me wrong, it was still nice to be somewhere warm, to not cook or do house admin but for 90% of my waking hours (and some of the sleeping ones) Ottie & Delilah wouldn’t do anything without me. It was like 1 family went on 2 separate holidays in parallel universes, just inches apart from one another – One half was relaxing in the sun with time to eat their way through the walls Ice cream back catalogue, the other (i.e. me and the twins) were on a week long intensive toddler wrangling course conducted in an oven, each twin fitted with immobiliser alarm that ended in screaming if anyone apart from me tried to touch them or help. At customs when asked if I had anything to declare, I strongly considered saying “yes, I want to divorce my family” but instead I did the British thing, buried my feelings, gave a rye smile & said “nope, just that we have a nice time.” I ready to go back to work…”

“I thought it was a phase. I thought I would have grown out of it by now, but no, here I am 3 years after this was taken and it seems that biting, gnawing and nibbling the extermities of my offspring is still very much in Vogue. Tell me I’m not the only one that still enjoys a chew of an ear, a bite of a finger or a gum of a belly?! Is this first step in a long & complex journey towards canabalism – no. Do I have to remind myself to control the pressure of my own jaws in order to combat the overwhelming urge to bite down way too hard? Absolutely. Is It going to scar them for life both physically and mentally? Possibly, although the amount of giggling indicates they seem to be ok with it. I guess I’ll just have to resign myself to the fact they’ll all just have to wear ear muffs, gloves and socks around me for protection. I’m assuming that 5 is the cut off age for stopping this, right?”

“There’s a little known clause in the parenting contract you signed when you became the owner of a small person that you probably weren’t aware of (after all, who actually reads the small print) but it clearly states in 0.2 sized font that ‘under no circumstances are 2 parents are allowed to be unwell at the same time or the world will implode & will become a child run state of anarchy’. Unfortunately that’s the situation we’re in & it sucks – ticking off the list of symptoms like a game of covid bingo that no one wants to win. ‘Parenting in treacle’ is the best description I can come up with – the big girls are fine remote learning, but twins move from room to room causing havoc like a mob of marauding miniature attention seekers & we can’t keep up. Fingers crossed its just a common cold but it’s definitely added a layer of complexity to keeping our shit together. My hats off to any single parents out there who are suffering whilst in isolation – I hope you’re getting the moral support you need – keep smiling & embrace the internet – it might just save your sanity. “

“if there’s one positive I can take from this lock down, it’s that it’s forced grandparents all over the world to pick up that black rectangular paper weight that occasionally makes noises (i.e. their phone) and to get to grips with technology.
We’ve endured a lot of “whats my user name again?”, “oh, which camera do I look at?”, “what’s all this writing on the screen now?”, “who’s Janet? She’s calling me. Is That Janet from book club? ” and “can you hear me now?” but we’ve persevered and for the last 3 nights the girls have had their grandparents read them bed time stories via Skype & they’ve loved it – it’s just like having a real life audio book, just with a conversation about the weather and how empty the shops are thrown in for good measure. Perhaps I can get a whole bank of tech savvy grandparents lined up and make a business out of this & call it ‘Grandparent in my pocket: the slightly confused book reading app’ …mmm, on second thoughts, the tech support alone would bankrupt me as resetting a password when you’re over 70 seems to involve at least 5 Loud phone calls and a lengthy email about the ‘poor state of customer services these days’ ….still, the girls are loving this nightly fix so at least there’s that! “

“As everyone knows, it’s not the size that matters, it’s what you do with it that counts. But try telling that to 4 year olds as the struggle to drag construction grade timber they can barely lift, back from the woods. With every trip there’s a new branch that gets named and now, because they’ve humanised it, it simply can’t be left behind, despite being perfectly happy in its natural environment.  And what happens when this humanitarian aid mission to rescue Mr woodface is complete & we arrive home? He lies in hall, get ripped to shreds by the dog and then chucked in the garden, left to spend the rest of his days decomposing days next to pile of other unfortunate “recscuees”. I’m pretty sure we’re single handedly contributing to the deforestation of South East England.”

“As an adult, breaking up large rocks into smaller ones is something that is reserved for miners, quarry workers, crack dealers (granted, a different kind of rock) and those incarcerated in labour camps. However, when you’re 4 & you’ve been given the sign off to wield a claw hammer & a mallet that’s so heavy, you can’t physically lift above your head, it’s no longer classified as a chore – it’s a fun! Most of my formative years were spent ‘helping’ my dad by mixing cement and fetching tools, yet I can barely get my eldest 2 to make noises that resemble conversational english, let alone help with manual labour. Yet these 2 sat there for 30 minutes like miniature stone masons and actually helped (while miraculously managing not mangle any figures or faces). If only their biceps didn’t have the consistency and size of a month old grape that’s been left behind a radiator – then they’d actually be able to help shift the rubble too, but who am I to complain – that will come in time.
As I’ve said before, I’m pretty sure that if they’re your kids, it doesn’t count as child labour, right?!”

“Forget the spinal compression I suffered from the 4 seperate times I had to give shoulder rides to each daughter so they could each say THEY put the star on the tree.
Forget the accidentally smashed baubles and the thin coating of microscopic glass on the floor, waiting to rip my feet to shreds.
Forget the Micheal Buble festive audio assault we annually force ourselves to endure whilst we decorate.
Forget the ensuing arguements over branch real estate and criticisms of how I failed to evenly distribute the lights even though I know I nailed it. .
Forget it all, because for 30 seconds I got to stand back and see a rare scene – all the girls in my life working in harmony without trying to kill eachother. It’s a true Christmas miracle.”

“Let’s play ‘How to spot a walking cliche / stereotype of a late 30’s early 40’s male’ Bingo and see how many you / your other half ticks off (FYI , I’m all of these and I’m ok with that): has multiple kids with quirky names, constantly refers to travelling experiences / night outs that happened a decade ago, wears vaguely fashionable clothes including turned up trousers, a beanie worn so it doesn’t properly cover their ears & trainers that a 20 something might think are cool, always has a ‘project’ going that takes forever to complete, refers to other people as ‘dude or fella’, drives a family car that has some ‘poke’, listens to 6 music because they’re all about ‘new music’, moved out of the city & swears they’d never go back to metropolitan life because “the air and pace of life is nicer now”, gets a pet that they were initially against but then finds out it’s actually their best friend, has a great idea for a business but doesn’t’ do anything with it because theu’re now risk averse, discovered going out for walks is actually really nice, goes way to hard on a night out because they think they’re still 19, feels slightly smug when lockdown happened because they worked from home 3 days a week already, buys sourdough and the papers on the weekend but only reads 1 section, knows enough about multiple subjects to sound intelligent until they meet someone that actually knows stuff and then changes the conversation, still thinks they could have made it as a professional sportsman. 
IM A FULL HOUSE!”

“I blinked & suddenly my baby twin girls are 5. Birthdays have become a point of reflection of me (perhaps this is a sign of getting older, who knows!) – it’s a viewpoint from which you stare into the foggy haze of history to see how far you’ve come (swipe right) and to remember the journey that got you here. The sleepless nights, the constant balancing of priorities, the guilt of feeling I haven’t been there for them enough, the stages of development they’ve navigated to become the little people they are today and the moments of pure joy that are etched into my memory for eternity. It’s all there in pages of our family story, a story that has many blank sides still to fill. No one said having twins would be easy, but I wasn’t prepared for how much of a test it would be, not only on our parenting skills, but on our ability to keep moving forwards without things falling apart. Yet here we are 5 years on, a little wiser, a little greyer and little more tired. I’m proud of the people they’ve become & excited to see what they’ll do in the next 5. I just hope when they look back at their childhood, they can remember the day they got their first bikes and that their family loves them, even if they are a nightmare sometimes!”

“She’ll hate me saying this, but I’m proud to be able to call this on my daughter. It’s easy to assume that the young teens have coped ok with the last year, but they have been somewhat over looked in the media. uni students, nursery schools and those preparing for exams all shared their stories, but there, in the middle, are the other kids – the kids in limbo. The ones who have missed out on a year of social interaction at a time when they’re transitioning for children to young adults, whilst juggling a growing workload at school all with limited opportunities to vent and that has no doubt been tough (not that you’d necessarily be told by them as getting a blood donation from a boulder is easier than having a conversation sometimes). Being in your room alone with a screen for 8 hours a day sounds like a teenagers dream, but when it’s every day for a year, the novelty soon wears thin and it ends up taking its toll. That’s why I’m so proud of Anya – after school, she proactively found new friends online from around the country who had shared a passion for acting, they created a working group to develop a short film to highlight the emotional & mental impact that this last year has had on kids their age, scripted everything, edited it all and put themselves out there so that adults could see a different perspective and other kids could have something to relate to. I never would have done this at 13. Thank you for all those that watched and commented on their @nextgenshortfilms post. It put alot of smiles on some teens face and made the effort all worthwhile.”

“As your family gets older, the opportunity to experience things for the ‘first time’ starts to dwindle. But with the last year that the world has endured, we’ve starting to emerge from our hibernation, and (without wanting to sound like a Disney film) for the first time in forever, it felt normal again. This weekend was the first time to be with family, the first time we bothered to get dressed up, the first time I’ve managed to get all 6 pairs of eyes looking in the same direction (smiling was a step too far for Delilah) and the first time we had a family photo that doesn’t involve the same 4 walls as a back drop & everyone wearing soft clothing with elastic waists. It was the first time it felt that we might, just might be coming out of fog of the last 12 months and leaving it in our rear view mirror. 
Wherever you are and whoever you’re with, I hope you’ve had the opportunity to enjoy the Easter weekend and have the chance to see some hope on the horizon – A time for new beginnings indeed.”

“Have you ever stopped to listen the insane games your kids make up when they’re playing? I have and it’s weird. You know what else is weird? Dolls. Dolls are weird. And Dolls strapped to the front of scooters like some long distance truck driver are weirder still.  Infact, Twins are a bit odd. Combine that all with the imagination of children that seem to have one shared mind and it all gets very ‘Fear and loathing in Las Vegas’ The girls were playing a game of ‘dads and brothers’ (for some reason they’ve banned all females from their imagination) then Ottie started shouting “NO BROTHER!” right in the dolls face – “Do that again and you’ll go in the hole!” Turns out that despite not having a basis grasp of language or working vocal cords, the doll (brother) had said something mean to dad (Delilah) and it was deemed that the appropriate response what to bury her alive in the garden to teach her a lesson. Very kill Bill. Not sure it reflects well on my parenting though.”

“Before you ask, the answers NO. No, there were no mirrors used in this image and no, We haven’t got yet another dog because we are not totally insane and I’ve done enough cleaning up crap in the last decade to last a several lifetimes. But when we got Myrtle, Clemmies sister bought Myrtles sister, Darcy. So human sisters, bought canine sisters that are now being held by twin sisters – That’s a whole lot of females! I’ve always been outnumbered, but man, I really do feel like the sisterhood are trying to (not so subtly) run my solitary Y chromosome is out of town. (FYI – it would easier to remove my own brain using only Bonjela as anaesthetic than is to extract a puppy from a child arms at the end of the day).”

“Family. That’s what life is all about – At least for me. I hadn’t see my parents or hugged them in over a year so finally getting to spend time with them over the half-term filled my heart with the kind of warmth you get from a good hot water bottle. And although within 10 minutes of being home, it felt like nothing had changed, the truth is, for my parents lots has, at least when it comes to the grand kids. I’ve been shacked up with my offspring 24/7 for the best part of year so I don’t see the changes, but for my mum and dad, the changes they saw were substantial. The twins are reading and independent noise machines, it’s the first time they’ve seen Marnie since her diagnosis, Anya now looms over my mum like a adolescent shaped shadow and they’d never the newest addition to the family – Myrtle. I think we forget sometimes, a year is a long time and alot can happen, I’m just glad I finally got the catch up with my folks to share it all. If you’re infortunate me enough to have your parents around, Call then if you haven’t spoken in a while. I’m sure they’d love to hear from you.”

“These 4 regularly drive to me to point of wanted to eat my own hands in frustration, they rarely do what I ask without arguing and they’ve aged me dramatically (the lines on my forehead are so deep, you could plant crops in them). But without these people in my life, I’d be incomplete. So what did I get for all the efforts I plough into fatherhood? A lie in, homemade cards, a hungover bike ride that almost ended me, 4 hours of watching Pixar films on the sofa whilst being sat on by my offspring and served bottomless tea and a Chinese take away for dinner. As Father’s Day go, it was a banger. I hope all the other dads out there were suitably spoilt and milked it for it was worth – you deserve it.”

“From my memory of French school exchange trips , French markets revolved around buying bangers, friendship bracelets, combs that looked like flick knives, cheap skull necklaces on black string that turned your neck green and saying “c’est combien?” a lot without really understanding the answer. However, things seem to have changed and my experience differed a little as a 36 year old parent. I now had small humans welded to my shoulders as little legs magically stopped working after 10 paces from the car, the smell of artisan coffee and babyccinos hung thick in the air & despite telling everyone to fill up on the free tasters at the market to avoid a heavy lunch bill, Euros slipped through my fingers quicker than a heavy monopoly losing streak as we stock piled olives & there wasn’t a single flick comb or banger in sight – My 13 year old self would be so disappointed, but I know my girls lapped it up – both the coffee and the culture.”

“Dearest sleep, you mean so much to me but over the summer I feel like we’ve drifted apart. We used to enjoy eachothers company & I’d race home after work to embrace you, but something’s changed recently & we seem to have less & less time for eachother. Perhaps its the 4.30am musical beds routine we’re stuck in that means I get the 6 inches of bed real estate, while the twins lie spread eagle & try their hardest to turn our bedroom into a vaccum chamber by inhale literally all the air through their mouths. Or maybe its juggling work with kids who need more attention than a peacock that’s just had his tail feathers highlighted and wants everyone to know about it. It could be the dog in our room that pads around at all hours like a 4 legged intruder & licks any exposed body part that hangs out of the covers. Or maybe it’s the frequent 2.30am intrusions from an 8 year that’s convinced there’s a large cat in her room & refuses to go back to bed without a chaperone. Whatever it is, I’m shattered & I’m miss you. When the holidays are over, please let’s be together again. Love always, Simon. Xxx “

“Here’s a simple yet effective way to ensure you leave your family holiday bubble abruptly & come screaming back into reality with a massive bump – step 1: get some drunk A-hole in Gatwick to delay your plane by 3 hours (for added fun, only learn this when you arrive at the airport where there’s literally bugger all to do) – Step 2: try to entertain your shattered kids in a security pen at the gate for 2 hours with dangerously low tablet batteries. – Step 3: pack absolutely no nappies or spare clothes in your carry on and then have your 2 smallest child wet them themselves while they sleep a hour out from landing – Step 4: experience the M-O-T-H-E-R of all screaming fits as you try to dress them, using your jumper as trousers and a 12 year olds knickers tighten with a hair band. Step 5: land at 3am and wait for luggage for a freaking hour. Step 6: drive home as the sun comes up and carry knackered kids to bed before you finally hit the sack at 5.45am. step 7: be greeted by 3 year olds at 8.45am & start your day only to learn there’s no food in the house – the holiday is definitely over!”

“As the months and years pass, the amount of child based accessories you own slowly reduces to the point your house no long resembles a mama and papas distribution facility and you can actually walk around. For the most part, I’m glad all that stuff has gone, but there’s one thing I miss sometimes. A buggy. And more importantly, a buggy with restraints. Yes, they’re huge and cumbersome, yes take up the entire car boot and yes they are essentially large Petri dishes on wheels where new species feed on discarded rice cakes and pom bears, but back when we were ‘with buggy’, at least I didn’t have to manually carry two sets of tired legs when they simultaneously decide to just stop walking, like they did today. and with a buggy at least you strap them in so you know where they are. Today, they sprinted in opposite directions at warp factor 9 and just disappeared. It was like herding invisible cats on steroids. What accessories do you miss?”

“No, despite @mother_of_daughters clothing , this not the triumphant photo taken at end a great Antarctica adventure out on the very edges of human endurance. It’s just what we looked like after paying for the priviledge to harvest our own seasonal vegetables in a wet mud covered field along with other drenched families, all hoping to make memories for their kids while carrying grey Instagram friendly pumpkins home that they’ll all throw away in a week. The lasting memory that I’ve come away with – if you want to become a millionaire, start a pumpkin patch and get members of the public to hand over cold hard cash to come to you and pick it all for you. Genius. “

“They say that, thanks to modern technology, our children’s imaginations are rendered as useless as ejection seats in a helicopter. As a kid, I would read the tales from Brambly Hedge by Jill Barklem and lose myself in the incredible illustrations. So to make sure their imaginations are still firing on all cylinders, I decided to embrace technology & shrunk us down to the size of a field mice. (And yes, my 3 year is giving me a piggy back ride, because in your imagination, you can do what the hell you like). Ok my skills aren’t as good as @allthatisshe but when I showed the to the twins tonight and said “do you remember this?” ,Delilah replied “yes, of course I do!” She’s a terrible liar, but at least it made them (and me) smile. If you could inject yourself into a children’s story, which one would it be?”

“8 years ago, 3 years ago & today. Can’t quite believe we still haven’t received our call up for the Cirque du Soleil despite almost a decade of practice and a safety record that contains only 2 minor injuries, but hey ho. Now, if I could just get a child to sit on each limb, that really would be ‘Britain’s got talent’ grade stuff (probably for the bloopers reel when I Buckle under their collective weight – we really have to stop feeding this lot).”

“Today we managed to achieve the unachievable – our first family bike ride in the UK as a 6. And yes, yours truly drew the short straw & was hooked up to the ‘chariot’ that contained the 2 worst back seat drivers in history (go faster, stop jogging us, your bum is wiggling, I’m thirsty, stop moaning dad!). All this happened while the other girls cruised along, leaving me to sweat out every ml of liquid in my body. The 85km ride I did this morning was a doddle compared to lugging these two around. I felt like a tug boat powered solely by an elderly hamster in a wheel, trying to pull a cruise liner. We really must stop feeding this lot.”

“Advice needed please: It’s easy to forget that just because you’re fine not seeing people and putting your social life into a state of semi permanent hibernation (12 years of parenting has prepared me well for this lockdown), it doesn’t mean everyone else is coping & I’ve frankly been a bit blind to it. yes we’ve done our best to fend off boredom & keep the kids mentally stimulated, but the lack of physical social interaction with their friends is starting to take its toll. Marnie is a glass half full kind of kid but cabin fever has kicked in & the realisation that she won’t being going back to school until September has been the straw that broke the camels back. As the tears rolled down her cheeks, the words “I just want to be close to other humans that aren’t my family!” Feel out of her mouth. I’ve never felt so useless. The good times will return kid. Has anyone else dealt with this yet? If so, let me know if you have any advice.”

“”But why do we need so many lights daddy?” 

My answer: “because coronavirus has been rubbish this year, so I wanted to make this Christmas really special for you.”

The truth : there’s a guy down the road who is obviously trying to make his house into a festive light source so bright, it gives the sun a run for it’s money and as a result, I’m suffering from an massive inferiority complex. Fuelled by this obsession to not be outdone, daddy succumbed to the ‘3 for 2’ deals on Christmas lights at the local garden centre and now is the proud owner of over 4500 LEDs, meaning our house is now visible from space and will no doubt be used as a homing beacon for extra terrestrial life that fancy a trip to our planet. I now find myself locked in an unofficial illuminations competition with Mr. ‘Look how Christmasy I am compared to you’ down the road without him even knowing it – a battle where the winner is actually a loser. If we’re all eating cold beans directly out of a can in January, it will because our Christmas electricity bill has bankrupted us.”

“If you’re just joining us in the strictest level of lockdown , welcome! I’m sure you’ve all been suffering from FOMO, but don’t worry, you haven’t missed much. Pretty much the only thing we can do now is go for ever increasingly long walks to stop everyone killing eachother, but as every parent knows, it’s important to plan for all eventualities and reduce the risk of whining tired kids with short legs. As a result we actually had this stupid conversation / plan before setting off.

 ‘Let’s go for a long coastal walk over the next town – it’s about 12km there & back. ‘

Ok, but that’s quite far, will the kids make it without scooters?’

‘They’ll be fine. But just in case we should have a Back up plan’.

‘Ok how about this. You drive to the destination in one car. I’ll follow with the kids in the car because we can’t leave them home alone. You then jump in our car and we’ll drivego back home, leaving one car there. That way of we get there after the walk and their too shattered to walk back, we can just drive home.’

That’s 3 journeys for 1 6km walk – that’s stupid. Can’t we just get a taxi back? 

‘Oh yeah – or would could just get a taxi’.

In the end, they were too tired to walk back, but the taxi wouldn’t take us all, so guess who had to walk home with the dog in the rain? Yup, me. And it was the best 90 minutes of the day.”

“Have you ever stopped to think about the power your kids could exert over you – how quickly they could topple the status quo – if they just worked together? 
Currently, the only things that bond our girls together beyond the simple fact their siblings is a shared hatred of tomatoes, their loathing of forced family walks and their love of playing Mario kart together. This looks nice doesn’t it. But as I sat her watching them, I couldnt help wonder what they could achieve if they combined their strengths, formed a sisterly alliance and decided to just stop listening to the authoritarian powers that control their lives – .i.e. us. With 4 of them, were already heavily out numbered so would be over run in a matter of minutes – They could stage an insurrection before lunch and instill a new regime without much too resistance – if only they knew the potential power they could wield if they just worked together. Let’s hope they never figure that out – the day we do, were screwed.”

“‘When I get a dog, I’ll never let it get in our bed, that’s gross – I won’t be one of THOSE people!’ Is just one of the many unrealistic things I’ve told myself over the years with the aim of obtaining an ideal vision of life. Unsurprisingly the sausage dog crew now have more bed real estate than I do. We’re all guilty of having these ideas about how we’ll shape our future, only to find that many of them are either unobtainable or simply suck the fun out of existing – Other that’s have fallen by the way side include “my kids won’t watch TV all day – they’ll be outdoorsy, we’ll never eat at McDonald’s – we’ll make wholesome home cooked food instead, I’ll take a year off work before I’m 35 to travel with my family, we’ll make arts & crafts every weekend, I’ll never shout at my kids”. All absolute nonsense. As someone once said – ‘everyone’s a perfect parent until they become a parent…..'”

“Solar and lunar esclipses are all well & good but they’re no where near as rare as an ‘child eclipse’ – that well known phenomena that occurs on most holidays when a father chucks their precious off spring so high that even Icarus would be impressed with their proximity to the sun, all while their partners look on, drowned in a stressed related flop sweat from seeing their baby being forcefully entered into a lower earth obrit.
Clemmie should be used to this but now, but I’m sure the Pina Colada helped those worries dissipate and vanish on the warm Turkish breeze. God, I love holidays – aren’t they just the best memory making moments ever?!”

“As the girls have gotten older, I have slowly become the one thing that my 12 year old self hated the most – a parent who shouts too loudly at their kids sports events. I actually banned my parents from coming because it got to the point I would have rather had my head surgically removed & replaced with a chicken than have my mum bellow my name across the field or run on if I got injured – it was so embarrassing that I wanted the ground to swallow me up & leave no trace me or my bruised pride. The problem is, I’m now that parent – that competitive dad that lives vicariously through their offspring and sees a cross country race as an olympics trial. I know it’s about the enjoyment of sport & taking part, but my voice box goes into spasm and I blurt out words of personalised encouragement at 120 decibels as perplexed by standers look on & shake their heads. Anyone else struggle with this? Being a proud spectator is a real balancing act I’m still yet to master I guess. “

“While enjoying a quiet moment, naval gazing out to sea & drinking the last dregs out of 2019, I found myself reflecting on this time 4 years ago. we were on a countdown to the impending arrival of 2 more balls of screaming flesh & the realistion of my greatest fear – being out of my depth & not being good at something. The very idea of twins scared me into mental paralysis (not that I told anyone else than my heavily pregnant wife), yet here we are to tell the tail. So to anyone who’s currently in the position I was once in, don’t worry – It WILL work out. Don’t compare yourself to anyone else’s version of normal as we all have our own rhythms to follow. There is no ‘best’ way of doing things, only the best way you can do things for your own circumstances. It’s a journey, so find time to enjoy it and reflect on your accomplishments, even the small ones as they make you who you are. Learn from the challenges that are thrown at you because they make you stronger. And most of all, remember that although your life is set to change, you are still you so make time for yourself – that time is more valuable that you’ll ever realise.”

“And so, after what seems like a lifetime of exhaustive self-funded research, I can today confirm that their is literally no situation or weather condition that children won’t eat ice cream in. The lastest experiment was a 4.5 hour of sitting in the car whilst inhaling each others bodily gases on the way to Dorset for a half term break. Despite it being 3 degrees above freezing, horizontal rain cutting our faces, being dive bombed by seasoned sea gulls that prey on tourists and a wind that chilled your bone marrow, ice creams transformative powers made the world into a dairy based utopia. I even saw Delilah trip on the beach while holding her ice cream, but instead of put her hands out to break her all, she barrel rolled out of the it on her forearms to save her cone of frozen goodness. Now that’s dedication…”

“Yes, this gets a bit deep, but here me out: Have you ever tried to explain the concept of space and time to a child? In a world where they think breakfast was a life time ago & grandpa is practically a dinosaur, to say that the fossils you’re holding are 140 millions years old means literally less than nothing. Then factor in the universe is 13.8 billions years old & that everything you’ve ever known & will ever know is contained on this small blue ball hurtling through the dark vaccuum of space & time while orbiting around burning balls of gas for eternity, & you’ve lost them for good. Yet despite their age, fossils have stood the test of time & have left their mark for us to discover. And that got me thinking about us. The lowly human being. we may not last as long as ammonites physically, but the one thing that will out last our physical presence is the memories we create in the minds of the ones we love. So do your best to make those memories happy ones & make them smile at the thought of you. Be infinite. Be star dust. Be the reason their world keeps turning. Be content in who you are & love the ones who love you. I know it’s a bit deep, but sometimes it’s good to think about this stuff”

“If you had a choice, being locked down with a mirror image of yourself that also happens to be your best friend doesn’t seem like a bad option. Yes, 20% of the time they are thinking up ingenious ways annoy eachother, but when together, they are completely self sufficient (apart from asking for squash and endless snacks) which makes parenting just that little bit less stressful in these confined times. Who would have thought having more kids would have made it easier?! Not me, that’s for sure. Oh, and the weather helps. Imagine if it was pissing with rain everyday…”