My Husband Demanded a Third Child – After My Response, He Kicked Me Out, but I Turned the Tables on Him

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 — 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.

A woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney

A woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney

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.

A woman working in the kitchen | Source: Pexels

A woman working in the kitchen | Source: Pexels

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.

A person holding a game controller | Source: Pexels

A person holding a game controller | Source: Pexels

Last month, my best friend invited me out for coffee. It was the first time in weeks I had a chance to get out of the house for something fun.

“Eric, can you watch the kids for an hour?” I asked as I slipped on my shoes.

His eyes stayed glued to the TV. “I’m tired. I worked all week. Why don’t you just take them with you?”

I sighed. “Because I want a break. It’s just an hour. They’ll be fine.”

A close-up shot of a woman's face | Source: Midjourney

A close-up shot of a woman’s face | Source: Midjourney

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.

A man looking at his wife | Source: Midjourney

A man looking at his wife | Source: Midjourney

“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?”

A woman arguing with her husband | Source: Midjourney

A woman arguing with her husband | Source: Midjourney

“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?

A woman sitting in her house | Source: Midjourney

A woman sitting in her house | Source: Midjourney

A few days later, Eric started mentioning having another baby. At first, I thought he was joking. I mean, we could barely handle the two kids we already had.

But the more he brought it up, the more I realized he was serious.

The next time Eric brought up having a third child, it wasn’t just a passing comment. He was serious.

It started over dinner one night. I was cutting up Brandon’s chicken nuggets when Eric, casually scrolling on his phone, said, “You know, I’ve been thinking… we should have another baby.”

A man talking to his wife | Source: Midjourney

A man talking to his wife | Source: Midjourney

“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.”

A man looking at a woman | Source: Midjourney

A man looking at a woman | Source: Midjourney

“That’s exactly the point,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “I know how it works. I’m the one who does all the work. I’m the one up at night. I’m the one running around like a lunatic, trying to keep everything together. You don’t help.”

Eric’s face darkened. “I provide for this family, Katie. That’s helping.”

“No, it’s not,” I snapped. “Being a parent is more than just bringing home a paycheck.”

A woman talking to a man | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking to a man | Source: Midjourney

Before Eric could respond, his mother, Brianna, who had stopped by earlier to “visit the kids” with her daughter, walked into the kitchen.

“Everything okay in here?” Brianna asked, her eyes darting between us.

Eric sighed dramatically. “Mom, she’s at it again.”

I rolled my eyes. “At what again?”

“She keeps telling me I don’t help with the kids.”

Brianna’s lips pursed as she took a seat. “Katie, sweetheart, you need to be careful. A man doesn’t like to feel criticized by his wife.”

An older woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney

An older woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney

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?”

An upset woman | Source: Midjourney

An upset woman | Source: Midjourney

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.”

A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

I turned to Eric. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re so stuck in this outdated mindset where women are expected to handle everything. It’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, Katie,” Eric shrugged. “Deal with it.”

I stared at him, feeling like I’d hit a wall. He wasn’t going to change. Neither was his mother or sister.

Later that night, after Brianna and Amber had left, Eric brought up the third child again. This time, his tone was more insistent.

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” he said as we got ready for bed. “We’ve got a good life. I take care of you and the kids. We should have another.”

A man standing in his bedroom | Source: Midjourney

A man standing in his bedroom | Source: Midjourney

I turned to him, finally at my breaking point. “Eric, you don’t take care of me. Or the kids. You barely even know them.”

He just stared at me, his expression blank.

“You’re not the great dad you think you are,” I continued. “And I have zero interest in being a single mom to three kids. Two is hard enough.”

Eric’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

A doorknob | Source: Pexels

A doorknob | Source: Pexels

I heard his car start, and moments later, he was gone. Off to his mother’s house, no doubt.

The next morning, I was up early, sipping my coffee in silence. The kids were at my sister’s place. I’d called her the night before, knowing I needed someone to lean on.

I didn’t expect Eric to come back right away, but I wasn’t surprised when Brianna and Amber showed up instead.

They didn’t even knock.

A woman standing in her son's house | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing in her son’s house | Source: Midjourney

“Katie,” Brianna began, stepping into the kitchen. Amber followed, arms crossed and lips pursed. “We need to talk.”

I leaned against the counter, keeping my face calm. “I’m not sure what there is to talk about. Eric and I need to work things out ourselves.”

Amber scoffed. “That’s exactly what we’re here to help with.”

“I don’t need your help,” I said, my voice steady.

But Brianna wasn’t backing down. “Katie, dear, you’ve changed. You’re not the sweet girl my son married.”

An angry older woman | Source: Midjourney

An angry older woman | Source: Midjourney

That comment hit me harder than I expected.

For years, I’d been trying to live up to some version of myself they had in their heads. I wasn’t that girl anymore. I was a grown woman with responsibilities they couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

“You’re right,” I said, locking eyes with her. “I’m not that girl anymore. Eric married a teenager. Now, I’m a woman who knows her worth.”

Brianna’s face turned red. “Excuse me?”

A close-up shot of an older woman's face | Source: Pexels

A close-up shot of an older woman’s face | Source: Pexels

I crossed my arms. “You heard me. And honestly, if Eric has a problem with how I run my household, he should be here talking to me. Not sending you two to do it for him.”

Amber’s voice was sharp. “That’s not how family works. We support each other.”

“Really? Funny how that support only ever seems to go one way.”

At that, my sister walked in. She took one look at the scene and immediately sensed the tension. “Everything okay here?”

A woman in her sister's house | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her sister’s house | Source: Midjourney

Brianna turned on her. “Who are you?”

“Her sister,” she replied with a sweet smile. “And you guys need to calm down. Otherwise, I can call the authorities.

Brianna’s face twisted with rage, and I braced myself for the onslaught of insults. Sure enough, she launched into a tirade about how I was “ruining” her son’s life, how I was a bad wife, and how my kids would grow up hating me.

But I didn’t flinch.

A woman standing in her kitchen, looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing in her kitchen, looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

They finally left a few minutes later, slamming the door behind them.

Later that day, Eric came home. I heard his footsteps before I saw him, and I could feel the tension as he stepped into the kitchen.

“So,” he began, his voice cold, “you insulted my mother and sister?”

I folded my arms. “I didn’t insult anyone. I told them they had no right to interfere in our marriage.”

Eric’s expression darkened. “You don’t love me. You don’t love the kids. You’ve changed.”

An upset man in his house | Source: Midjourney

An upset man in his house | Source: Midjourney

“I haven’t changed, Eric. I’ve grown up. There’s a difference.”

Our argument spiraled, going in circles until he finally exploded.

“Pack your things and leave,” he demanded, pointing to the door. “I can’t live with you anymore.”

I was stunned, but I didn’t argue. I packed my bags and stood at the door, ready to leave. But before I stepped out, I turned to him one last time.

A woman standing in the doorway | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing in the doorway | Source: Midjourney

“The kids are staying here,” I said. “Whichever parent stays in this house will be responsible for them. They’re not going anywhere.”

“Wait… what?” he asked. “That’s not happening.”

“You heard me,” I said calmly. “You wanted me gone, fine. But the kids stay.”

Then, I walked out with my sister without listening to anything else Eric had to say.

He tried calling me later, but it was too late.

Ultimately, Eric refused to take custody of the kids, and I filed for divorce.

A person signing a paper | Source: Pexels

A person signing a paper | Source: Pexels

In the end, I kept the house, got full custody, and received substantial child support payments. I’m glad I stood up for myself before it was too late. Do you think I did the right thing? Or did I go too far?

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

My Neighbor Refused to Carpool My Daughter Claiming She Had No Space in the Car — So I Taught Her a Harsh Lesson

When Lena agrees to help her neighbor Karen by driving their daughters to school, she thinks it’s just a one-time favor. But as Karen’s requests become a daily expectation, Lena starts feeling used. When Karen refuses to return the favor with a blatant lie, Lena decides to teach her a lesson.

I used to think I was one of those people who could just go with the flow, you know? Avoid drama, and keep things pleasant. But that all started to change the morning Karen knocked on my door.

A woman looking at a front door | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking at a front door | Source: Midjourney

“Lena, hey! I’m so sorry to bother you this early,” Karen said, flashing that overly sweet smile of hers.

I was still in my pajamas, trying to coax my brain into waking up with a cup of coffee. Sophie, my eight-year-old, was upstairs getting dressed for school. The last thing I expected was a surprise visit from the neighbor.

“No bother at all, Karen,” I replied, yawning as I opened the door wider. “What’s up?”

A woman answering her front door | Source: Midjourney

A woman answering her front door | Source: Midjourney

“I have an early meeting today, and I was wondering if you could take Emily to school with Sophie. Just this once? I hate to ask, but I’m in such a bind.”

I hesitated. Not because I didn’t want to help, but because I wasn’t sure if I could juggle two kids in the morning rush. But then I remembered how much Sophie liked Emily, and how sweet Emily always was, so I shrugged it off.

“Sure, no problem. I can drop them both off.”

Karen’s face lit up like I’d just offered her the winning lottery ticket.

A happy woman | Source: Midjourney

A happy woman | Source: Midjourney

“You’re a lifesaver, Lena. I owe you one!”

I waved her off, smiling. “Don’t worry about it, really. It’s just a quick favor.”

That’s where it all began. A ‘quick favor’ that turned into something much more complicated.

The next morning, Karen was at my door again, looking just as polished and perky as before. “I have another early meeting today. Would you mind taking Emily again? She loves riding with Sophie, and it would be such a help.”

A woman asking a question | Source: Midjourney

A woman asking a question | Source: Midjourney

This went on for weeks. Every morning, there was Karen, all smiles and gratitude, asking me to take Emily. At first, I didn’t mind. Emily was well-behaved, and Sophie loved having her along.

But soon, it started to feel less like a favor and more like an obligation. Karen wasn’t asking anymore — she was expecting.

One morning, Sophie and I were running late. I’d hit snooze on my alarm one too many times, and the house was a whirlwind of chaos. Sophie couldn’t find her shoes, the cat had knocked over a vase, and I hadn’t even had a chance to brush my hair.

A woman rushing to get ready | Source: Midjourney

A woman rushing to get ready | Source: Midjourney

As I scrambled to get us out the door, my phone buzzed with a text from Karen: Can you take Emily today?

I stared at the message. I was already frazzled, and the thought of adding another kid to the mix made me want to scream. But then, I had an idea, a simple, desperate one.

I texted Karen back: Actually, I’m running late today. Can you take Sophie?

A cell phone | Source: Pexels

A cell phone | Source: Pexels

I figured it was only fair. After all, I’d been driving Emily to school for weeks now. Surely Karen could handle one morning, right?

The reply came almost immediately: Sorry, the car’s too full today.

I blinked at the screen, disbelief flooding over me. Too full? Karen drove a massive SUV! And all she ever transported in there was Emily!

My mind raced, trying to come up with any reasonable explanation for that blatant lie, but there was none. Karen had just shown her true colors, and they weren’t pretty.

A woman reading a text | Source: Midjourney

A woman reading a text | Source: Midjourney

That was the moment I realized I’d been played. My goodwill had been mistaken for weakness, and Karen had been taking advantage of me, plain and simple.

I wanted to march over to her house and confront her, let her know exactly what I thought of her flimsy excuse. But instead, I clenched my teeth, forcing myself to stay calm. This wasn’t the time for a confrontation. Not yet.

Instead, I got Sophie ready, drove her to school, and spent the rest of the day stewing in my anger. Every time I thought about Karen’s text, a fresh wave of frustration washed over me.

A woman near a window | Source: Midjourney

A woman near a window | Source: Midjourney

I wasn’t going to let Karen get away with this. Not anymore. She’d poked the bear one too many times, and she was about to learn that I wasn’t as much of a pushover as she thought.

The next morning, sure enough, I got the text: Can you take Emily again today?

I could practically see Karen’s smug smile as I read those words. She was so sure I’d say yes, just like every other time. And I did say yes — only this time, I had a plan.

A woman smirking | Source: Midjourney

A woman smirking | Source: Midjourney

“Hey, Sophie, how about we stop at Rosie’s Donuts on the way to school today?” I called up the stairs as I finished packing her lunch. Sophie’s favorite donut shop was just a few minutes out of the way, but I knew it’d add enough time to our trip to make Karen notice.

“Really? On a school day?” Sophie’s voice was full of excitement as she came bounding down the stairs, her backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Yep. It’s a special Friday treat. What do you say?”

A woman looking up a flight of stairs | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking up a flight of stairs | Source: Midjourney

“Yay!” Sophie practically danced her way to the car, her ponytail bouncing behind her.

I smiled to myself, the bitterness of Karen’s betrayal easing just a little at the sight of Sophie’s joy.

As expected, Karen was waiting outside with Emily.

“Good morning, Lena!” Karen chirped, her smile bright but her eyes sharp, assessing. “Thanks again for doing this. You’re such a lifesaver.”

“Oh, no problem at all,” I replied, matching her fake cheerfulness with some of my own. “It’s always a pleasure.”

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

Sophie and Emily climbed into the backseat, chatting away about their favorite YouTube videos, and I pulled out of the driveway, waving to Karen as we drove off.

I could feel her eyes on us, probably already mentally checking off another morning of childcare that she didn’t have to worry about.

But today, things were different.

Instead of taking the usual route to school, I turned left at the next intersection, heading straight for Rosie’s. Emily noticed immediately.

“Miss Richards? Aren’t we supposed to go that way?” she asked.

A girl in a car | Source: Midjourney

A girl in a car | Source: Midjourney

“We’re stopping for donuts this morning, Emily,” I said with a wink.

Emily looked confused. “Won’t we be late?”

I glanced at her in the rearview mirror and smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll get there in time.”

Except that wasn’t exactly true. By the time we reached the donut shop, we were already cutting it close. But I wasn’t in any rush. We strolled inside, and I let the girls pick out their favorite treats.

Donuts | Source: Pexels

Donuts | Source: Pexels

“Mom, this is the best day ever!” Sophie exclaimed, her mouth full of a donut.

I smiled, savoring the moment. “Glad you think so, sweetie.”

We took our time eating, chatting about nothing in particular, while the clock ticked on. I wasn’t usually the type to make my kid late for school, but this wasn’t about Sophie or Emily. This was about making a point.

By the time we finally left Rosie’s, the morning rush had died down, and the roads were blissfully empty.

A car driving on a city street | Source: Unsplash

A car driving on a city street | Source: Unsplash

When we finally pulled up to the school, the parking lot was nearly empty. I could see the school staff starting to pack up from the morning drop-off, and I felt a twinge of guilt. But it was quickly drowned out by the satisfaction of knowing Karen was probably already fuming.

“Alright, girls, here we are,” I said as I parked the car. “Have a great day, and don’t forget to tell your teachers we had a special morning!”

Sophie grinned, giving me a quick hug before she and Emily hurried inside. As I watched them go, I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the fallout.

A woman in her car | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her car | Source: Midjourney

Sure enough, when I got back home, Karen was standing on her porch, arms crossed, waiting for me. She looked like she was trying to keep it together, but her eyes were practically blazing with anger.

“Lena, what happened? Emily was late for school! I thought you were going to drop them off on time!” she snapped the moment I stepped out of the car.

I walked up to her, keeping my expression as innocent as possible. “Oh, Karen, I’m so sorry! But you know how it is.”

A woman looking innocent | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking innocent | Source: Midjourney

Her jaw tightened, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. “I see,” she said through gritted teeth. “Well, try not to let it happen again.”

“Or maybe you could take Emily yourself? Just a thought.”

Karen didn’t reply. She just turned on her heel and marched back inside, slamming the door behind her. I watched her go, feeling a wave of triumph wash over me. It wasn’t often that I stood up for myself, but this time, it felt good. Really good.

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

And that was the last time Karen ever asked me to take Emily to school. From then on, she made sure to get her daughter ready early enough to handle the drive herself.

She also avoided me whenever possible, clearly embarrassed and resentful, but I didn’t mind. She’d finally learned her lesson.

And I’d finally learned mine too. Being a good neighbor doesn’t mean being a doormat. Sometimes, you’ve got to stand up for yourself, even if it means taking the scenic route to get there.

A satisfied woman | Source: Midjourney

Here’s another story: Who charges a $500 bill for a family BBQ? My stepsister Karen, that’s who. Instead of paying, I decided to teach her a lesson in family hospitality — with a twist she never saw coming. Click here to read more.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

Related Posts

Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.


*