When my husband first said the word “budget”, I rolled my eyes so hard, I almost gave myself a headache. I was already juggling work, kids, NEPA, traffic, groceries, and remembering who likes what in their jollof rice. Now you want me to sit down and start making charts?
Abeg.
To be honest, we were barely managing. Every month ended with us borrowing from the next. Silent tension. Passive-aggressive “so-you-went-out-again?” comments. I deleted alerts before he saw them. He pretended the generator fuel just magically refilled itself.
So when he suggested we do the budget together, I felt two things: dread… and lowkey insult. Like, do you think I don’t already manage this house with mathematical precision?
But we did it anyway.
We cleared the dining table. Opened a fresh Excel sheet. Sat down with our phones, notebooks, ATM receipts… and pride.
At first, it was all blame.
“Why are we spending ₦25,000 on shawarma in a month?”
“Who subscribed to Netflix, Showmax, and Prime Video?”
“Wait, what is ‘Miscellaneous – ₦60,000’?”
Then it shifted.
We started seeing things we didn’t know. That he was sending ₦15,000 to his younger brother every month.
That I was still paying for my late mother’s data plan, three months after she passed. That we hadn’t really saved anything since our second child was born.
Somewhere between “Utilities” and “Transport,” we stopped being defensive.
We started being honest.
He told me he feels ashamed that he can’t give me more. I told him I feel guilty for wanting more than we can afford. We both admitted how scared we are of money, of failure, of becoming strangers who only talk about bills.
And then it happened.
Right there in front of the laptop, in the middle of a sea of rows and figures… I started crying.
Not because of the money. Because of how close I felt to him. Because in that moment, it wasn’t just numbers, it was our life. Our dreams, our disappointments, our quiet sacrifices.
He held my hand. No speeches. No motivational quotes. Just held it.
That was the moment we became a team.
Today, we still budget. Every first Sunday of the month. With suya and malt, sometimes even music. We argue. We negotiate. But we always leave that table feeling like we’re facing the world together.
So yeah, budgeting isn’t romantic. But neither is survival. And somehow, the tedious spreadsheet and grown-up task became the most intimate thing we’ve ever done.
This isn’t just about money, it’s about choosing each other, even when it’s hard.
Visit marriageandmoney.com.ng for money conversation templates to help you and the person you wish to share love and life with.
Adetutu Afolabi is a Personal Freedom Coach helping families build wealth through aligned values and intentional living. She believes strong relationships are key to lasting financial freedom
Copyright 2025 TheCable. All rights reserved. This material, and other digital content on this website, may not be reproduced, published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed in whole or in part without prior express written permission from TheCable.
Follow us on twitter @Thecablestyle