When my three children were very young, and my wife battled an ever-growing tide of nappies, soiled school uniforms, and dirty dishes, I found time to become a remarkably well-rounded man. I trained boxing and Jiu-Jitsu, learnt instruments, got good at chess and joined a book club. And yet, she seemed to view me less as a dashing renaissance man and more as a selfish s**t.
My wife found all my hobbies exasperating, but the martial arts was the one that always led to our bitterest rows. Happily, for me, my classes were perfectly timed to dodge the pre-school morning crush and/or the kid’s bedtime. Regardless of how I’d “pre-booked” the time off with her; verbally or in writing, her response as I strode out of the door was always one of surprised indignation: “Jiu Jitsu, again?” “Yeah, we discussed it,” I’d point out. “You should find something you want to do!”
We were stuck in a doom loop: even when I wasn’t enjoying my selfish little hobbies, she insisted she was “doing everything”. So I wondered, if I was surplus to requirements, why was my absence a problem?
My most recent guest on my podcast, Be a Happier Parent, is the American economist Corinne Lowe. She points out the biggest gap in how parents use their time isn’t housework, career, or childcare – it’s leisure time. At the age of 35, what Lowe described as “peak hating your husband time”, American surveys show this difference in leisure time as dads taking a whopping 2.5 hours a day more to themselves than their partners. This Mother’s Day, how many men in Britain will be unfortunately committed to their weekly 10k, football match, bike ride, or game of golf?
This imbalance in leisure time is clearly unjust. Whatever your work/childcare structure demands of you as individuals, equal downtime seems fair. So why is that not happening?
Steve Nicoll, 48, a fashion executive from North London, trained for his first marathon when his daughter was one. “Exercise just felt non-negotiable to me, in a way that it didn’t for my wife.” When I asked him about the atmosphere this created in his home he gave an audible shudder. “It made it a very shivery place.” It’s clear the male insistence on keeping up with fitness can create more stress than it relieves – so why do we do it?
Several studies have shown men’s testosterone falls when they become fathers: one, by the Memorial University of Newfoundland in 2011, reported a 34 per cent decrease in their evening levels. The theory is this is nature’s way of making them be better, more sympathetic and attuned carers, and less likely to cheat. Parenting fitness coach Lawrence Price suggests that for dads, the need to get fit could be a subconscious counterbalance. “Such a significant drop in testosterone can contribute to the uncertainty many fathers feel during the shift in identity that comes with parenthood. Re-establishing healthy testosterone levels through practices like resistance training is deeply linked to confidence in decision-making, a willingness to take responsibility, and an underlying sense of capability.”
Alex trained boxing and Jiu-Jitsu and learnt to play instruments when his children were young (Photo: Terri Pengilley)It’s comforting to imagine I was restoring my hormones for the good of the family. But in my own case, I was fleeing a domain where I felt useless. Parenting offers no belts, no podiums, no obvious markers of progress. Physical training does. And men aren’t raised to see the domestic sphere as theirs to master; our domestic incompetence is practically a sitcom genre. On the mat, I felt capable. At home, I was, by all accounts, pointless.
But if there were good, albeit selfish, reasons for me to exercise, why didn’t my wife take some time for herself? Maternal wellness gurus are forever reminding mothers that they cannot “pour from an empty cup”. So why was she so reluctant to take time for herself? I encouraged her to, after all. (Truthfully, l had loads of fun alone with my kids and it freed me from her micromanaging. It is less stressful with fewer chefs in the kitchen.)
Lucy Jones, author of Matrescence, noted that we’re living in an age of what’s been called “intensive motherhood” – the idea that good mothering requires constant time, resources, and emotional attunement. “You feel guilty if you spend any time away,” she said.
Girls are socialised early to prioritise others’ needs, and pregnancy primes the brain to respond intensely to a baby’s cues. Add a small voice saying “Don’t go, Mummy,” and leaving the house can feel almost impossible. “I used to feel guilty even going to the shop,” Lucy told me. “I haven’t exercised properly for 10 years. It’s affected my health.”
The contrast with my own feelings about going to the gym are remarkable. It never occurred to me to feel guilty, any more than it did to go to work. For Lucy, any time away felt like moral failure. Maybe my ability to walk out of the house for a couple of hours with no sense of guilt is the biggest male privilege of all.
Sophie Roberts, 43, a doctor and mother of two who has always resisted conventional gender norms, rejects the premise entirely. Sport, for her, isn’t indulgence – it’s survival. “It’s three hours a week,” she told me. “That’s collectively nothing and it’s the difference between you and an early death.” She sees the maternal guilt as optional. “If you let it consume you, you’ll never do anything with your life.”
Whatever the relationship with maternal guilt, there are practical domestic tasks which stand in the way of mothers enjoying leisure time. Hannah Rock, 41, a journalist from Headcorn, asked: “What’s going to make me feel better? Going for a walk and coming back to the chaos and worry of what still needs to be done? Or actually spending the time doing it, so I can relax?”
‘It never occurred to me to feel guilty’ (Photo: Teri Pengilley)Hannah’s perspective exposed what I’d been missing: when my wife did go out, I never treated the household as a business operation in the way that she did. I’d burn our budget on a takeaway rather than face the stress of meal prep, or I’d cook but not tidy. I put them to bed, but not get their school bags ready, order food for the week, or do any of the jobs that my wife did when I was boxing.
She always returned to find more work than when she had left. I hadn’t been making time for my hobbies – she had. “Filling her cup” became just another impossible task on her to-do list.
Since I learnt to be a manager in my home, my wife now goes out – frequently and without apology. She gets a social life, my children get to see me as a competent carer, not an Adam Sandler-esque uncle who turns up with pizza. When I head out to train, she isn’t furiously itemising the cost.Maybe fathers will never feel the reflexive guilt that mothers do when they leave the house. But more guilt isn’t the goal. The goal is to reduce the guilt my wife feels and create a system where one person’s restoration doesn’t harm the other’s.Men don’t want “free time”. We want resentment-free free time. We want to come home to warmth, not a cold audit of what our absence cost. The sustainable version of “me time” is the one that no one else pays for.
Hence then, the article about my wife didn t have any hobbies i realised it s my fault was published today ( ) and is available on inews ( Middle East ) The editorial team at PressBee has edited and verified it, and it may have been modified, fully republished, or quoted. You can read and follow the updates of this news or article from its original source.
Read More Details
Finally We wish PressBee provided you with enough information of ( My wife didn’t have any hobbies – I realised it’s my fault )
Also on site :