People always said the number-one thing couples fight about is money. I had read it countless times in relationship articles and advice columns, and honestly, I never believed it. That kind of problem seemed like something only unhappy couples faced, I thought. Surely, we would be different.
Well… I was dead wrong.
I grew up in a very frugal household. We lived in a house built in 1899, and my parents were extreme DIYers. My mom spent hours canning vegetables, making sauces, and finding ways to reuse everything possible. Zip-loc bags, tinfoil, yogurt containers—they all had multiple lives before being tossed. Our weekends often included treasure hunts at garage sales, and we were proud of every bargain we found. To me, this wasn’t about pinching pennies—it was the way life worked: never hold a debt if you can avoid it, never waste anything, and you’ll always be okay.
When I got married, I assumed my approach to money would naturally align with my husband’s. After all, he came from a similar background, right? Turns out, similar upbringings can still result in very different financial philosophies.
It started small. One evening, as I washed out our used Ziploc bags and hung them to dry, he asked, “Why do you do that?”
“We can reuse them,” I said. “It saves money.”
“Seriously?” he said. “How much does a bag of Ziplocs even cost?”
I was more than huffy. I was angry. This wasn’t just about the bags—it was about my family, my upbringing, and the values my parents had instilled in me. He tried to reason with me, even calculating exactly how little money I was saving by reusing the bags. And yes, he really did the math.
Meanwhile, our daughter’s clothes became another battleground. My husband didn’t care about bargain hunting at all. He would come home with brand-new outfits, only for her to spill chocolate milk or have an accident within minutes. “We don’t work this hard to put our daughter in used clothes!” he’d exclaim. To him, it was about protecting our family and giving her the best he could without worry. To me, it felt wasteful.
We argued. A lot. Over and over. And no matter how much we debated, neither of us really heard the other.
Then something finally clicked. The arguments weren’t truly about money—they were about family values, about what mattered to each of us. My obsession with reusing baggies wasn’t just frugality; it was about connection to my upbringing, to my mother, and to the life lessons she taught me. For my husband, buying new clothes wasn’t frivolous—it was a way of caring for his child and ensuring she was well taken care of, without judgment.
Once I started seeing it that way, things began to shift. I realized that my husband’s concern was really about time and attention. Spending hours reusing tiny items might save a few dollars, but it also meant less time with our family. And he started to see that bargain hunting could meet his goals too. I showed him gently used children’s clothes I’d found at sales—practically new, and perfect for our daughter. Slowly, he began to understand my perspective.
Now, approaching our six-year anniversary, money is no longer a source of constant tension. Through countless conversations, heated debates, and careful “I feel” statements, we’ve built a mutual understanding. He appreciates that saving money can be valuable, even if it requires effort. I’ve learned that moments with family and shared experiences are more precious than a few saved dollars.
It wasn’t an easy road, but by keeping communication open and showing each other empathy, we’ve created a strong, united partnership. We’ve learned that money isn’t the enemy—it’s the lens through which our family values are expressed. And for us, love and understanding will always come before dollars and cents.
