Suddenly a Single Father of Five. What Now?

Hey Uncle Gary,

Twenty years of marriage. Five kids. Back in February I lost my job, and though I’ve recently found another in the same field, it came with a 50% pay cut. I was overpaid before, and the financial stress has been crushing. I’ll admit it, I haven’t been the best husband these past months, buried under the weight of being the sole provider.

Meanwhile, my wife started going out three to five nights a week, coming home drunk more often than not. While I was away for two weeks on a work assignment, my kids were texting me almost nightly that Mom wasn’t home.

When I got back on Halloween, I took the kids trick-or-treating while she went out again. A few nights later, she claimed she was with a friend, but I’d just run into that friend at the grocery store. My gut told me something was off. I checked her phone. Found texts with a man I’d never heard of, going back weeks, heating up while I was gone.

I confronted her. She deleted the messages, swore he was “just a friend.” But the next day she asked for a divorce. Then I saw a text to him: “I have good news. Can’t wait to talk.”

Now she’s giving me full custody of the kids. No fight, no conditions. Just gone.

Here’s the reality: I work 7 to 4, Monday through Friday. I don’t know how I’m supposed to get five kids to school, pick them up, and still keep food on the table. I’d been picking up side gigs to make up for the pay cut, but that’s off the table now.

I asked if we could work on things. She has no interest.

I haven’t slept in two days. I’m heartbroken. I’m lost. And I’m suddenly a single father of five. What do I do?

Signed, Father of Five

Dear Father of Five,

First, let’s pause on the most important fact: your kids. They texted you when Mom wasn’t home. They leaned on you when things felt unstable. And now, whether you asked for it or not, you’re the anchor. That’s not punishment, it’s proof of who they trust.

Yes, you’re heartbroken. Yes, you’re exhausted. But you’re also the one who showed up on Halloween night, who took them trick-or-treating when their world was wobbling. That’s the job description now: show up, even when you’re running on fumes.

Here’s the hard truth: your marriage is over. She’s chosen her path, and you can’t drag her back. What you can do is stop bleeding energy into the “why” and start pouring it into the “how.” How do you keep five kids fed, schooled, and loved while rebuilding your own life?

Start with logistics. Schools have resources, before-care, after-care, bus routes, carpools. Lean on them. Don’t be shy about asking other parents for help; you’d be surprised how many will step up when they know you’re carrying this load.

Next, money. A 50% pay cut hurts, but you’ve already proven you can hustle with side gigs. Now you need stability more than extra cash. Focus on keeping the main job secure, then explore supplemental income that doesn’t pull you away from the kids, remote work, weekend shifts, even creative freelancing.

And don’t forget you. Sleep. Eat something green. Talk to someone who isn’t under your roof. A counselor, a buddy, a sibling, anyone who can remind you you’re not alone. Because right now, isolation is your enemy.

You’re not a “shit husband.” You’re a man who got crushed under pressure and is now standing in the rubble, trying to figure out how to build again. That’s not failure, that’s the start of resilience.

Your kids don’t need perfect. They need present. They need Dad at the table, Dad at pickup, Dad who listens when they say they’re scared. You can do that. One day at a time. One meal at a time. One bedtime story at a time.

You asked, “What do I do?” You do the thing you’ve already been doing: you show up. And you keep showing up until the chaos quiets down and the new normal feels like home.

You’ve got this. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s necessary. And because those five kids already know, you’re the one they can count on.

Uncle Gary