As a #husband and #father, I feel like I’m just an #unglorified #wallet. #Reddit #story #stories

As a husband and father, I feel like I’m just an unglorified wallet and no one respects me

#Entertainment #Love #Reddit #live #viral #story #stories #redditstories

I’ve been married 8 years. I’m 30, my wife is 33. We have two kids; a boy (5) and a girl (3).

I get up every week day at 4:00am. Clean up the litter box, walk the dog, sweep up the house (no vacuum because everyone is still sleeping). I fold the clothes that had dried overnight in the dryer. I check the children’s laundry baskets, and start new loads.

I go for a three miles run in the dark at 5:00am. I’m showered and on the road by 6:00am. I commute for an hour and a half to a job I’m not particularly thrilled about but I’m good at it and I’m paid well. I’d rather be home building furniture and learning to be a chef.

Officially I work from 8:00am to 5:00pm but we rarely finish at the office before 6:30pm. I drive home another hour and a half.

When I get home the house is a mess. There’s no dinner. I’m starving. Did they eat? Yes they did. Uber Eats. Did they order anything for dad? Maybe, if I’m lucky. Wife will be on her phone. Daughter sometimes sleeping, sometimes not, son sometimes sleeping, sometimes not.

I’d like to spend time with them, but I need to eat. Bowl of cereal or TV dinner, then.

I check the laundry machine. Yep. Laundry from this morning is still there, and a huge pile that didn’t even get started is next to the machine. I put the first load into the dryer and start the next ones.

Wife lectures me on how stressful and hard her day was. How hard can it be when I hired a day nanny.

Oh she means stressful drama with her friends. Oh yes, tell me about what a bitch Brenda is and what a perfect mom she thinks she is and how she’s fake. My, that’s so interesting.

Yes, a blowjob would be awesome. Oh wait you didn’t say blowjob, you said bill, as in the bill for all the just had to have things you ordered off amazon today.

She tells me about how I never have time for any of them and how I’m an absentee father and I need to “step up” my contribution at home. Well, this weekend I have to mow the lawn and paint the garage and do all sorts of other chores you insist need to be done only by me, I’m sorry if there’s not two of me and I can’t go on play dates with you and go to champagne brunches where you all pat one another on the back and tell one another how brave and hard working you are to be sitting in a restaurant paying $50 for a plate of food at noon on a weekday for a three hour lunch and yoga afterward when your husband gets a Stouffer’s TV dinner that he heats himself.

I’m sorry I can’t be like the J Crew family in the ad and be smiling all the time. Someone has to pay for the house you insisted on, the SUVs you insisted on, the Montessori school you insisted on, the fashionable clothes you insisted on, the organic this and that you insisted on, the hair salon and nail appointments you insisted on.

Thanks for calling me selfish for spending time on myself on my three mile runs. It’s the only thing for me I ever get to do, thanks, and it’s while you’re sleeping.

I really wish you wouldn’t condescend to me when you discuss me to your friends, as if I’m obsessed with my career and that’s why you’re stuck being supermom. You already know I’m happy with an apartment and used economy cars and buying our clothes at Target and working a job where I get to be home to see my kids.

Why are you and the nanny so busy that your combined efforts can’t put the load of laundry in the dryer and press a button. Why do you leave dishes in the sink for me to do after I come home.

If you want me to keep working my 160k a year job to to fun your lifestyle that’s fine, I’m your hubby and that’s what I signed up for. I’m your man and it’s my job to support you.

I wish you would act like you’re on my side, though, realize that I want to be home, but if you want all the stuff you insist are non negotiable, someone’’s got to go out there and pay for them because that shit ain’t free.

Thing is, all of it would be more okay if you just said thanks, Mike, I know you’re working hard or us and that you’re doing your part to keep this train rolling.

Instead you paint this picture on social media like you’re busting your ass and I’m just off playing golf instead of stressing every second if I’m making enough money to support the lifestyle you want and feel entitled to.

You paint me like I’m into myself when I want to be into all of us, be part of the bubble you’re keeping me out of.

Why do you resent it so much when our son says he loves me and appreciates me and wants to spend time with me. Why do you hate it when our daughter wants to stay up and watch me eat and talk to me.

I’m a husband and a father. I’m a workhorse. That’s life.

I’ve told you how I feel but you tell me I’m crazy and being a crybaby. I don’t think asking you to order something for me if you’re going to spend money on dinner is unreasonable.