The Daddy Complex

Stalled career, sleepless nights and a mind that’s turned to mush. What fatherhood does to a man – and why Andrew Hankinson has had enough

- Andrew Hankinson

I’m sitting at a desk in Northumbria University library at 1pm on a Sunday trying to write this article. I have an office at home but I couldn’t write there because my son was downstairs vacuuming rooms that didn’t need vacuuming, the baby was wailing, and my daughter kept knocking at the door asking me to judge her fart noises. So I came here to write in peace. My wife’s at home with the kids. It’s Mother’s Day.

What a chauvinist. What a sh*t husband. What a dick. I get what you’re saying, but you don’t understand. The truth is, my wife is getting the good end of this deal. She’s been away in Glasgow for two weeks attending lectures for work. She stayed in a hotel. She had breakfast alone. She had a second to think. She slept. I was here with the kids. I was at the battlefront. My day in the library? That’s the bad end of a negotiated settlement.

Everything is negotiated when you’ve got three kids. Any moment alone – minutes in the shower, a phone call, putting the kettle on – has a price which must be paid. It’s like you’ve clocked on at a crappy, full-time job assisting three bosses who need everything done for them – feeding, cleaning, transport, forms, clubs, beds, bottoms, doctors – and although you’re entitled to holidays, if you take them, your boss and all your work comes with you, so you don’t bother.