**My Partner Plays Video Games All Night and Sleeps All Day, Leaving Me to Take Care of the Kids Alone**

Every morning, the alarm goes off at 6:30. I get up, make breakfast for the kids, pack their lunches, and fight the usual battle of getting shoes on little feet. Meanwhile, my partner is still in bed—snoring, dead to the world, headset dangling off the nightstand.

I know exactly what he was doing all night. I can hear the rapid clicking of the controller through the walls, the bursts of laughter through his microphone. Midnight. Two a.m. Four a.m. By the time I’m waking up, he’s just collapsing into bed.

So it’s me. Always me. School drop-offs, pickups, doctor’s appointments, laundry, dinner. On top of my own full-time job.

Last week, I hit a breaking point. I was juggling groceries, a crying toddler on my hip, and my phone buzzing from work emails when my oldest asked, “Why doesn’t Daddy ever eat dinner with us?”

I didn’t know what to say. I just swallowed the lump in my throat and changed the subject.

That night, after I finally got the kids down, I walked into the living room. He was on the couch, headset on, face lit by the glow of the TV. I unplugged the console mid-match.

He spun around, furious. “What the hell, I was in the middle of a raid!”

“And I’m in the middle of raising two kids alone,” I snapped. My voice shook, but I kept going. “You sleep all day, you game all night, and I’m drowning. When was the last time you bathed them? Helped with homework? Even *sat at the table* with us?”

He scoffed. “I’m allowed to have hobbies. You’re overreacting.”

“Hobbies don’t replace fatherhood,” I shot back.

We fought for hours. He swore he’d “do better,” but I’d heard it before. Empty promises, followed by another night of gunfire sounds and shouting through a mic.

So last weekend, while he slept until noon, I packed bags—for me and the kids. I left a note on the counter that said:

*We need a partner, not a roommate with a gaming addiction. When you’re ready to choose us over your console, you know where to find us.*

Then I buckled the kids into the car and drove to my sister’s.

Because here’s the truth: I’d rather raise them alone than let them grow up thinking neglect is normal.