A Day In The Life Of A Lazy Father

Dear Diary,
Last night was difficult – the baby woke up crying for a bottle and briefly woke me up too.
I woke my partner and then pretended to be asleep, so she’d have to deal with her. I fell back to sleep within seconds, but I’m so knackered. 

I’m sure she’s fine, she’s used to having no sleep. 

This morning, I jumped out of bed, made myself some breakfast, I enjoyed a nice, hot coffee before having a relaxing poo, followed by jumping in to a hot shower on my own.

I didn’t make her anything for breakfast, though – she’s used to doing everything on her own; she doesn’t need my help.

I put my clean boxers and socks on, my freshly ironed work clothes and it was only 07:40 – I leave at 08:00. 
So, with all this spare time I had before leaving for work, I sat scrolling through my phone and watched her feed the baby whilst listening to her complain that she misses having a hot drink and something to eat without stopping every five minutes.

Probably hormones. She’s always moody.

Well, with 20 minutes spare and nothing to do, I left early for work so I didn’t get stuck in shitty traffic; she had loads of housework to do anyway, better not get in the way of that. 
I would help do a little bit, but I’d rather listen to the radio and have some quiet time before work.

Work is so stressful. 

Five days out of seven, I have to spend time with adults and socialise a bit. I get two fifteen minute tea breaks and an hour’s lunch – completely alone. 
On the plus side, I get a career and I know I’ll always be financially stable, so that’s a perk I guess.
My lunch was actually quite enjoyable – she packed my favourite snacks and made me a sandwich with my favourite filling!  
With an hour spare, I had plenty of time to reflect on my thoughts and actually, plan a night out with the lads.

I deserve it, I think. I only get two whole days and every evening to myself a week.

She won’t have plans anyway, she has a baby to look after.
Actually, I had a message from her on my break to tell me what was for dinner when I got home, that our baby had rolled over for the first time, that she loves me so much and and can’t wait for me to come home and spend the weekend with them as a family. 

She’s so needy, I only left a few hours ago.

I don’t think she’ll be happy when I tell her I’m going out with the lads at the weekend, but it’s tough. I earn the wage and put a roof over her head, I’m allowed. 

She has no friends anyway, they seem to have ditched her since having our baby.

 
I drove home from work after a tough day typing emails and speaking to clients, I could smell dinner as I pulled up, but was shocked to see her when I walked through the door.
She was still in the same clothes as she was this morning, she’d had no wash, there was more washing piled up and now she’s asking me to take the baby aswell. 

I told her that I couldn’t and I wanted to sort myself out after work. 

God, can I just have a minute to myself, please?

I took another hot shower and put my clean clothes on, sat down and complained at how hard my day’s been. 

I’m allowed to complain, right? She doesn’t work, so she doesn’t know how it feels. 

Out of nowhere, she burst in to tears and asked why I didn’t reply to her message at lunchtime; she asked if I still loved her and why I don’t help her out with our baby. 

I ignored her, had my dinner and decided to nip out for a drive to get some space, I needed to vent to somebody. 
Plus, the baby started crying again and needed rocking to sleep – I thought I had better leave her to it. 
I came back a bit later and the baby was asleep. 

Peace and quiet, finally.

She was in a bad mood when I got in, so I just went straight to bed – I have work tomorrow and I need a decent night’s sleep. 
Having a baby is hard work.
Goodnight.