When my husband, Eric, suggested having a third child, I knew something had to change. I wasn’t about to take on more responsibility while he lounged around like a king. After I told him exactly what I thought, he kicked me out β but not before I turned the tables on him.
Have you ever had one of those moments where you finally hit your breaking point? That was me when my husband demanded another baby as if I didn’t already have my hands full raising two kids practically alone.
What followed was a showdown I never saw coming.
My husband, Eric, and I have been married for 12 years. I’m 32, and he’s 43. We have two kids: our daughter, Lily, who’s ten, and our son, Brandon, who’s five. Raising them has been my full-time job while I keep this house running. I work part-time from home to help with the bills, but still handle everything. By everything, I mean cooking, cleaning, school drop-offs, laundry, bedtime routines, and more.
Eric, on the other hand, believes his only job is to “provide.” And that’s where his involvement ends. He’s never changed a diaper, stayed up with a sick kid, or even packed a lunchbox. It’s exhausting, but I love my kids. I’ve accepted that I’m basically a single parent while Eric sits on the couch, watching sports or playing video games. But that doesn’t mean I don’t get frustrated.
Eric rolled his eyes, reaching for the remote. “Katie, you’re the mom. Moms don’t get breaks. My mom never needed breaks. Neither did my sister.” My jaw clenched. “Oh, so Brianna and Amber never felt overwhelmed? They never needed a minute to themselves?” “Exactly,” he said smugly. “They managed just fine. You should, too.” That’s when I lost it.
“Eric, your mom and sister probably felt exactly like I do! They just never said it out loud because they knew no one would listen.” Eric waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever. It’s your job, Katie. You wanted kids. Now take care of them.” I wanted to scream. “They’re your kids, too!” I said. “When do you ever take care of them? When was the last time you helped Lily with her homework? Or played with Brandon? Or asked them how their day was?”
“I go to work to keep a roof over your head. That’s enough.” “No, it’s not!” I shot back. “Providing money isn’t the same as being a parent. You’re their father, Eric. They need you.” “Well, tough. I’m not changing how things are.” I stared at him, speechless. How did I end up married to someone so selfish?
“Excuse me?” I said as I turned toward him. He looked up. “A third kid. I think it’s time.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Eric, I barely manage with the two we already have. And you want to add another?” His brow furrowed like I was the one being unreasonable. “What’s the big deal? We’ve already done it twice. You know how it works.”
Criticized? I was fuming. “I’m not criticizing him. I’m asking him to be a parent. There’s a difference.” But Brianna wasn’t hearing it. “Eric works hard to provide for this family. You should be grateful.” Grateful. Right. For a man who thought fatherhood ended with conception. “And you’re already blessed with two beautiful children,” Brianna continued. “Why wouldn’t you want another?” She heard our conversation. Nice. “Because I’m exhausted,” I said flatly. “I’m already doing everything by myself. Why would I want to make my life even harder?”
That’s when Amber, Eric’s sister, chimed in, stepping into the kitchen like she owned the place. “Honestly, Katie, you sound a little spoiled. Mom raised both of us without complaining.” “Right,” I said with a bitter laugh. “And I’m sure she never felt overwhelmed. She just kept quiet because no one would’ve cared if she did.” Amber’s eyes narrowed. “Well, maybe you need to toughen up. Women have been doing this for centuries. It’s just what we do.”
