Endless meltdowns, messy eating, the stubborn refusal to do even the most basic tasks, the sobbing over trivial things, looking back at those early years of parenting I expected more from myself.
But when the hand of destiny lands on your shoulder, what can you do but instinctively whip around with an angry demeanour, realise who it is, apologise profusely, and offer to buy them a drink. Or, as it turned out, buy every single round, plus crisps and a kebab and an Uber home. I shouldn’t judge. Destiny was going through a hard time back then.
I hear their adorable little mouths they need feeding
And their fragrant heads need somewhere to rest
Yeah and the rest mate. We went to places I thought only Other People went to. But the rewards were waiting, eventually, on the other side. A deeper level of joy, more authentic relationships, the kind of strength only born of struggle, a new dimension of love, all available for the low, low price of the complete restructuring of every fibre of my being.
Which is very beautiful, but also my fibres in their previous arrangement were quite nice as they were thank you. I liked them. They were comfortable. They wrote more songs. I clung onto them as long as I could, but they became ill-fitting. I had changed shape.
One day I woke up to find a guy with my face and my name, asking for my life. I figured he deserved it more than me, so I gave it to him.
Things got a lot better after that. Actually our first kid has turned out so well, our gifts for parenting so obviously abundant, we have decided it is our moral responsibility to produce a second. For the betterment of humanity🍻. It is the least absolute most we can do, barely, if given sufficient quantities of caffeine.
Kid #2 is due sometime this autumn, and we are absolutely delighted.
I see it as a wild, unfounded vote of optimism for the future. A new player of the game with their own fresh hopes and ideas, ready to remake the world. A new voice, as deserving of the mic as any other. An original take on all the classics like “Waaaaa“, ”I don’t like this food I haven’t tried,” and “For god’s sake dad can you stop fussing. I’m 25 years old and can look after myself. Though actually yes a lift on Sunday would be quite useful.”
Somehow I’m convinced it will be different this time. I have a sense of who I am for a start. A musician, a writer of long emails, and a dad, though not always in that order.
I’m still a messy eater, looking back that was probably unrelated to parenthood.
Many Fish To Fry Live
You might see baby Morley at the merch table if you join us on Saturday 21st February 2026 at Bush Hall, London, UK, as part of a one-off celebration of the Many Fish To Fry album.
Turning this event into a meet-and-greet for an as-yet-unborn child feels problematic, but apparently I’m comfortable with that if it comes with the possibility of shifting more tickets.
Event page is here: https://jakemorley.com/many-fish-to-fry-live-2026/ You know what to do.
Part two soon.
Love jake
With huge thanks to Kevin Maguire of The New Fatherhood for many inspiring newsletters on this subject 🙏
Massive congratulations Jake, that's love news. Just realised I've already got tickets to Jeff Tweedy on the 21st which is bloody annoying...