I’ve been with my husband for 8 years, living together for 5, married for 4. Our daughter’s 3.5. Those first 3-4 years—before the wedding, the pregnancy, moving in —honestly felt like a dream. We didn’t argue at all. Probably because we were always travelling, going out to eat, doing fun stuff.
Then he proposed (really lovely, to be fair), I said yes, we moved in together—and little day-to-day things started to creep in. Like forgetting to put dishes in the dishwasher, soaking the floor after a shower, cancelling plans last minute because a mate had a spare football ticket. The odd snappy comment or silly disagreement. But even then, it was all small stuff and pretty rare. We still felt really solid.
But after the wedding and then getting pregnant, things started getting… heavier. Proper rows, more often. Nothing abusive—no physical or financial stuff, I want to be clear on that—but the arguments got more intense.
And now, it’s both of us constantly annoyed with each other. From my side, it’s: why am I always the one getting up in the night (when she was a baby)? I spend the whole day with the toddler, and then you go straight from work to the pub with your mates because it’s ’part of working’. From his side, he’s strict with our daughter and gets frustrated that she prefers me. I’m too cold and distant to his mum. The house is clean but often messy after a day with my toddler at home (especially if it’s raining or I’ve had to cook a meal and toddler played independently). There’s more but this is just off the top of my head. And I’m not asking to comment on each exact argument, just the fact there’s always some form of tension.
This morning I woke up before him, looked at him sleeping, and remembered how 5-6 years ago, my absolute favourite times were just evenings and mornings with him—those slow, cosy moments where we were just together. And now I’m counting the days until I go on holiday with my parents without him. Not because it’s a beach break or some amazing getaway, but because it’ll be an actual break from him. He’s staying in London.
(And before anyone says “oh, poor guy, working while she’s off enjoying herself”—we’re going on my parents’ money, not his. I don’t spend his money. I holiday, shop etc—on my own cash / savings.)