How Not to Hate Your Husband After Kids

So there I was. Standing in the kitchen, holding a half-eaten fish finger, covered in some unidentified toddler goo, while my husband sat on the couch scrolling TikTok like he was on a solo retreat in Bali.

Meanwhile, I’d just survived the 47th meltdown of the day, negotiated peace treaties between my kids like I worked for the UN, and speed-cleaned the house because apparently guests “might pop by.” (They didn’t. They never do.)

In that moment, a very real and very disturbing thought hit me:
I might actually hate this man.

Not all the time. Not even most of the time. Just… you know, whenever I’m drowning in motherhood and he has the audacity to look relaxed.

Fast forward to a few days later, I’m aimlessly walking through the library pretending to look for books for my kid, when this neon-orange beacon of hope catches my eye. The title?
“How Not to Hate Your Husband After Kids.”

I grabbed it so fast the librarian flinched. It felt like it was written for me—like the author had a camera inside my house and was quietly judging my life choices from afar.

Meet the Author Who Gets It

Jancee Dunn, the genius behind this gem, is a journalist, wife, and mother who went from “aw, he’s so helpful” to “I swear to god if he breathes near me right now I will combust.” Relatable? You have no idea.

The book is basically a love letter to all the mums silently seething as their partners ask, “Do we have any clean baby clothes?” when the laundry fairy (you) just folded 40 miniature onesies.

But this isn’t some boring academic guide. It’s honest, hilarious, and borderline savage in the best way. Jancee goes to couples’ therapy, interviews experts, and even hires a conflict coach who tells her she and her husband are “terrifying.” Iconic.

What This Book Told Me (That I Needed to Hear)

1. You’re Not Mad—You’re Exhausted and Carrying the Mental Load of a Fortune 500 CEO

Jancee dives deep into the whole default parent thing. You know, the one who knows the kids’ shoe sizes, snack preferences, who needs a birthday present for whose party—while your partner just… exists.

I used to think I was just “more organised.” Turns out, I was resentful AF.

2. Scorekeeping Will Ruin You

“I got up with the baby five times last night.”
“Yeah, well I changed 12 nappies.”
Sound familiar?

That was me and my husband, battling it out like parenting was a bloody point-based system. Jancee says keeping score is a race to the bottom, and honestly? She’s not wrong. I decided to let go of the scoreboard—and shockingly, I felt less murdery.

3. Weaponised Incompetence is Real and It Must Be Stopped

There’s a bit in the book where her husband can’t figure out how to load the dishwasher. “He doesn’t do it right,” she says. “So I just do it.”

NO. MORE.

I tested this at home. Asked my husband to pack the daycare bag. He put in one nappy, a banana, and a toy dinosaur. Not even a change of clothes.

Instead of redoing it myself, I said, “She poops. Regularly. Want to try again?”

He did. And he got better. Slowly. Like a toddler learning to walk—occasionally falling, but less sticky each time.

What Happened When I Tried Her Advice

So I actually read the book. Like, highlighter and all. (I never highlight. I don’t have the time. I barely have time to sit.)

Here’s what changed:

We now split tasks using a shared list instead of me just rage-doing everything and hoping he notices.
“Can you help?” became “You’re on bath duty tonight. I’m clocked out.”
I booked myself solo time. Not “go get groceries” time. Real, sit-in-a-cafe-and-scroll-in-silence time.

And the most surprising bit? He was on board. Turns out he didn’t know I was one meltdown away from packing a bag and moving into the linen closet. He thought I liked doing it all. (Bless.)

Why You Need to Read This (Especially If You’re Two Fish Fingers From Losing It)

Because it doesn’t sugarcoat anything.

This book won’t tell you that if you just breathe deeply or write your partner a love letter, everything will be fine. It’ll tell you that parenting is hard, marriage after kids is brutal, and communication needs more than a heart emoji text at 10 p.m.

But it also gives you real advice. Real humour. And real hope.

Plus, if nothing else, it’s therapeutic AF to read about someone else wanting to launch a sippy cup across the room. We’re all in this mess together, love.