I never thought a disagreement over bedtime would end my marriage.
I’m Emily, 36 now. This unfolded from 2021 to 2025, during the years we went from excited new parents to divorced co-parents who barely speak.
My ex-husband, Josh, and I met in 2010 at a music festival in Chicago. He was 27, a laid-back audio engineer with long hair and a perpetual smile. I was 25, a pediatric nurse who thrived on schedules and plans. Opposites attract, right? He loosened me up; I grounded him. We balanced each other perfectly. Married in 2014 in a casual outdoor wedding — barefoot, live band, 80 guests. Bought a house in the suburbs in 2017. Life was good.
Our son, Leo, was born in April 2021.
The first year was magical — sleepless nights, but we were a team. Josh took paternity leave, I went back to work part-time. We agreed on the big stuff: breastfeeding, vaccines, no cry-it-out sleep training.
Then Leo turned two.
That’s when the cracks appeared.
Josh had always been the “fun parent” — silly songs, messy finger painting, ice cream for dinner “sometimes.” I was the structure parent — consistent nap times, healthy meals, limits on treats. I thought it was a healthy balance.
But as Leo got older, Josh’s approach shifted to what he called “free-range parenting.” No rules, no consequences, let kids be kids. He’d read books about unschooling and gentle parenting and decided traditional discipline was “damaging.”
I believed in gentle parenting too — but with boundaries.
The disagreements started small.
Leo threw a tantrum in a store? I’d take him out to calm down. Josh would buy him a toy to “make him feel heard.”
Bedtime? I wanted 8 PM lights out for healthy sleep. Josh said, “He’ll sleep when he’s tired,” and let him stay up until 10 or 11 watching cartoons.
Screen time? I limited it to 1 hour a day. Josh handed him the iPad whenever he asked — “It’s educational!”
I tried talking to him.
“Josh, he needs routine. The pediatrician said structure helps development.”
He’d roll his eyes. “You’re too rigid, Em. Kids aren’t robots. Let him explore.”
By age three, Leo was running the house.
He’d scream if dinner wasn’t mac and cheese. Refuse to brush teeth. Hit us when he didn’t get his way. Josh would say, “He’s expressing big feelings,” and hug him until it passed — no apology required, no consequence.
I’d try a time-out. Josh would undermine me: “It’s okay, buddy, Daddy’s here.”
Leo learned quickly: cry to Daddy, get what you want.
I felt like the villain in my own home.
The fights escalated.
I’d come home from a 12-hour nursing shift to find the house destroyed, Leo up past midnight, Josh gaming with headphones on. I’d snap. He’d call me controlling. I’d call him irresponsible. We’d yell after Leo finally crashed.
I begged for compromise: family therapy, parenting classes, even just a shared bedtime routine.
He refused. “We’re not broken. You’re the one making everything a battle.”
In 2023, when Leo was four, things hit crisis.
He started preschool. Daily notes home: hitting other kids, refusing to follow directions, meltdowns during circle time.
The teacher pulled me aside: “He struggles with limits. Consistency at home would help.”
I showed Josh the notes.
He got defensive: “Schools just want obedient kids. He’s spirited.”
That night we had the worst fight of our marriage.
I said, “We’re failing him. He needs boundaries, or he’ll struggle forever.”
He said, “You’re turning him into a people-pleaser like you. I won’t let you crush his spirit.”
I cried: “His spirit isn’t crushed — he’s out of control because you won’t say no!”
He slept on the couch.
We tried couples therapy for six months.
The therapist sided with neither — said we had fundamentally different values around authority and autonomy. Suggested co-parenting classes instead of marriage counseling.
We took the classes. Didn’t help.
By 2024, we were roommates.
Separate bedrooms. Parallel parenting — I enforced rules when Josh wasn’t home, he ignored them when I wasn’t. Leo was confused, anxious, acting out more.
I couldn’t live like that.
In January 2025, I asked for separation.
Josh was stunned. “Over parenting styles? We can work on it.”
I said, “We’ve tried for years. Our values are too different. Leo needs consistency, and we can’t give it together.”
We mediated divorce — amicable on paper. 50/50 custody. Kept the house, nested for six months (one parent in the house with Leo, the other in an apartment) to ease the transition.
Leo struggled at first — regression, nightmares, anger. Therapy helped.
Josh and I communicate only through a co-parenting app now. Short, factual messages about schedules and school.
Leo is six now. With me, he has routines, chores, limits — and he’s thriving. Clear boundaries, lots of love. At Josh’s, it’s looser — later bedtimes, more screens. Leo adapts, but he tells me, “I like rules at your house. It feels safe.”
Josh and I will never agree on parenting.
But we agree on loving Leo.
The marriage ended not with a bang — no affair, no abuse, no money fights — but with a slow erosion over how to raise the person we love most.
People say, “Pick your partner based on how you’ll parent together.”
We didn’t know how true that was until it was too late.
Our parenting disagreement didn’t just divide us.
It showed us we were never truly aligned on the thing that mattered most.
And some foundations, once cracked, can’t be rebuilt.
TL;DR: My husband and I had irreconcilable parenting styles — I believed in gentle but firm boundaries, he believed in almost no rules at all. Years of clashing over discipline, screen time, and bedtime undermined our marriage, confused our son, and led to divorce in 2025. We now parallel parent with 50/50 custody, proving that fundamental differences in parenting values can end even a loving marriage.
