It’s a familiar routine. The last child’s door creaks shut, the sound of toothbrushes fades, and the house gradually settles into silence. My partner gives me a sleepy kiss and heads off to bed, muttering something about being up early. The lights go off, the stairs creak as they always do, and then… nothing. Just me, the quiet hum of the fridge, and a house that finally stops needing things from me.
This is the time I look forward to the most—when everyone else is asleep, and I’m still up.
It’s Not Just a Bad Habit
I used to think staying up late was just a leftover trait from my student days, when I could coast into lectures on three hours of sleep and a strong coffee. But now, as a dad, it’s something else entirely. It’s not procrastination. It’s not about bingeing TV or catching up on work emails—though those do happen occasionally. It’s about finding a pocket of calm in a day that’s otherwise full to bursting.
During the day, the hours aren’t really mine. From the moment we’re all up, it’s a whirlwind of packed lunches, misplaced socks, school runs, work calls, washing up, and refereeing arguments about who touched whose Lego. Even in the evening, once dinner is done and everyone’s theoretically winding down, there’s still bedtime chaos to navigate.
But once the house is asleep, the demands stop. There are no snack requests, no questions, no negotiations about screen time. Just quiet.
A Moment to Reconnect with Myself
I don’t need a huge amount of time. Sometimes it’s 20 minutes. Sometimes it stretches to an hour if I’m feeling particularly stubborn about going to bed. But in that time, I get to decide what happens. I might read a chapter of a book—one with no talking animals or cartoon tie-ins. I might watch something that isn’t a family film or a quiz show. Or I might just sit on the sofa with a cup of tea and scroll aimlessly through my phone without being asked what I’m looking at.
In a house where the volume is usually set to maximum and there’s a running commentary on everything from the backseat, these moments of silence are golden. They give me a chance to think about things other than logistics. To just be a person—not a parent, not a partner, not the guy who knows where the plasters are.
Tidying Without Interruption
Sometimes, if I’ve got the energy, I use this time to reset the house for the next day. I put away the toys, sort the laundry into piles, and clear the kitchen counters. It’s not thrilling, but it’s oddly satisfying when no one’s undoing your efforts while you work.
There’s something about restoring a bit of order—quietly, methodically—that helps me feel more in control. During the day, it can feel like we’re constantly reacting. At night, it’s a chance to get ahead, even just slightly.
Catching Up on Things I Like
I’ve realised how often the things I enjoy get squeezed out of the day. Podcasts, long articles, even music without cartoon sound effects—it all waits for the evening. This is when I can put on something I want to hear without worrying about little ears picking up inappropriate lyrics or bedtime being delayed by a new curiosity.
It’s a small window to rediscover things I used to love and keep a little hold on my own identity. I think that matters. It’s easy to lose track of the things that make you feel like you.
The Late-Night Dad Club
From chatting to other dads, I know I’m not alone in this. There’s a whole unofficial club of us who do the rounds at night—putting the bins out, checking the back door, switching off the TV someone forgot to turn off. Then, instead of going straight to bed, we sit up a bit longer. Not out of duty, but out of quiet defiance.
Because once you’ve spent the day doing all the things, it’s oddly satisfying to do nothing at all. Or something just for yourself.
Whether it’s catching up on football highlights, chipping away at a DIY project in the garage, or simply sitting in the dark with a snack you didn’t have to share, it all comes from the same place: a need to balance the giving with a bit of reclaiming.
Being Realistic About Sleep
Of course, there are trade-offs. Staying up late usually means being a bit groggy in the morning, especially when the kids come bounding in at 6am like it’s Christmas. I’ve learned the hard way that I can’t burn the candle at both ends forever. So I try to be realistic.
I pick my nights. If it’s been a particularly hectic day, I stay up. If I’m already running on fumes, I make myself go to bed early and remind myself the quiet will still be there another night.
The Beauty of Being the Last One Awake
There’s something oddly comforting about being the last one up. It’s not lonely—it’s peaceful. I get to see the house in a different light, quite literally. The rooms feel different when they’re still. The mess doesn’t seem quite as urgent. The unfinished jobs can wait.
And for a little while, I get to feel like myself again—not just someone’s dad or someone’s husband, but a person with his own thoughts, tastes, and preferences.
It’s a small act of self-care, and it works for me. I suspect it might work for others too.
So if you ever find yourself still up long after everyone else has gone to bed, don’t feel guilty about it. That quiet might be exactly what you need.
Just don’t forget to turn off the kitchen light on your way up.
