My Wife Works Too Much—So I Made Memories with Our Kids Without Her

I’m Jonah, 36. My wife is 34, and we have 10-year-old twins. For years, she’s been too busy or too exhausted from work to join us at soccer games, school events, or even small weekend outings. It’s always the same — she comes home late, eats dinner half-asleep, and crashes on the couch. I get it, she works hard. But lately, it feels like she’s been living a completely separate life from us.

Because of that, it’s usually just me and the boys. We’ve built our own little routine together, and honestly, I thought I was doing the right thing — keeping things fun and normal for them, making sure they still had good memories even if their mom couldn’t be there.

Last weekend, while driving home from running errands, I noticed a small county fair set up along the road. The boys spotted it too and immediately started begging me to stop. I hadn’t planned to, but something in me just said, “Why not?”

We pulled in, got wristbands, and spent hours there — going on rides, eating funnel cakes, laughing until our sides hurt, and buying silly souvenirs. It was one of those simple, perfect afternoons that happen when you stop overthinking and just live in the moment.

On the drive back, one of the boys said, “Dad, this is my core memory with you.” I laughed at first, but honestly, my heart melted.

That night at dinner, they were still buzzing with excitement, telling their mom every little detail — how we rode the Ferris wheel, how the lights looked from the top, how they won a stuffed bear.

Then she froze. The whole mood shifted instantly. She stared at me for a long second before saying I was pushing her out — that I was stealing moments that should’ve been shared as a family.

I didn’t know how to respond. I just sat there, stunned.

The next morning, I found the fair souvenirs in the trash — the glow sticks, the little bear, everything. I was fuming.

When I asked her why, she said she wouldn’t let me “buy their love.” I was shocked. The kids were crushed. One of them even cried, asking why Mom had thrown away their things.

I didn’t know how to comfort them, because honestly, I felt just as hurt. I never meant to exclude her or make her feel left out. I just wanted the boys to have good memories — something warm and happy to hold onto.