Housewife Mother Quotes

My father was a history professor, and my mother a housewife—" She married a house?

Mothers were the only ones you could depend on to tell the whole, unvarnished truth.

Voicemail #1: “Hi, Isabel Culpeper. I am lying in my bed, looking at the ceiling. I am mostly naked. I am thinking of … your mother. Call me.” Voicemail #2: The first minute and thirty seconds of “I’ve Gotta Get a Message to You” by the Bee Gees. Voicemail #3: “I’m bored. I need to be entertained. Sam is moping. I may kill him with his own guitar. It would give me something to do and also make him say something. Two birds with one stone! I find all these old expressions unnecessarily violent. Like, ring around the rosy. That’s about the plague, did you know? Of course you did. The plague is, like, your older cousin. Hey, does Sam talk to you? He says jack shit to me. God, I’m bored. Call me.” Voicemail #4: “Hotel California” by the Eagles, in its entirety, with every instance of the word California replaced with Minnesota. Voicemail #5: “Hi, this is Cole St. Clair. Want to know two true things? One, you’re never picking up this phone. Two, I’m never going to stop leaving long messages. It’s like therapy. Gotta talk to someone. Hey, you know what I figured out today? Victor’s dead. I figured it out yesterday, too. Every day I figure it out again. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I feel like there’s no one I can —” Voicemail #6: “So, yeah, I’m sorry. That last message went a little pear-shaped. You like that expression? Sam said it the other day. Hey, try this theory on for size: I think he’s a dead British housewife reincarnated into a Beatle’s body. You know, I used to know this band that put on fake British accents for their shows. Boy, did they suck, aside from being assholes. I can’t remember their name now. I’m either getting senile or I’ve done enough to my brain that stuff’s falling out. Not so fair of me to make this one-sided, is it? I’m always talking about myself in these things. So, how are you, Isabel Rosemary Culpeper? Smile lately? Hot Toddies. That was the name of the band. The Hot Toddies.” Voicemail #20: “I wish you’d answer.

Being a housewife and a mother is the biggest job in the world, but if it doesn't interest you, don't do it - I would have made a terrible mother.

Of course, to be a mother and a housewife is a vocation of a very high kind. But I simply felt that it was not the whole of my vocation. I knew that I also wanted a career. A phrase that Irene Ward, MP for Tynemouth, and I often used was that ‘while the home must always be the centre of one’s life, it should not be the boundary of one’s ambitions’.

I had never thought I had much in common with anybody. I had no mother, no father, no roots, no biological similarities called sisters and brothers. And for a future I didn't want a split-level home with a station wagon, pastel refrigerator, and a houseful of blonde children evenly spaced through the years. I didn't want to walk into the pages of McCall's magazine and become the model housewife. I didn't even want a husband or any man for that matter. I wanted to go my own way. That's all I think I ever wanted, to go my own way and maybe find some love here and there. Love, but not the now and forever kind with chains around your vagina and a short circuit in your brain. I'd rather be alone.

Maybe it's just not the right time for us to be married. I don't want to be a bounty hunter for the rest of my life, but I certainly don't want to be a housewife right now. And I really don't want to be married to someone who gives me ultimatums. And maybe Joe needs to examine what he wants from a wife. He was raised in a traditional Italian household with a stay-at-home mother and domineering father. If he wants a wife who will fit into that mold, I'm not for him. I might be a stay-at-home mother someday, but I'll always be trying to fly off the garage roof. That's just who I am.

I could write pages and pages about the delights of being a full-time housewife and mother and trying to write and support a family with two babies—but I don’t use that kind of language in public.

It is precisely because I valued myself that I was unwilling to remain miserable in a school and whole social environment that did not fit my needs. It is because the housewife had regard for herself that she refused to tolerate any longer a marriage that so totally limited her freedom and repressed her personality. It is because the businessman cared for himself that he was no longer willing to nearly kill himself in order to meet the expectations of his mother.

It was difficult to write about someone I felt I knew so well. The words were unwieldy, engorged with pretension. I wanted to uncover something special about her that only I could reveal. That she was so much more than a housewife, than a mother. That she was her own spectacular individual. Perhaps I was still sanctimoniously belittling the two roles she was ultimately most proud of, unable to accept that the same degree of fulfillment may await those who wish to nurture and love as those who seek to earn and create. Her art was the love that beat on in her loved ones, a contribution to the world that could be just as monumental as a song or a book. There could not be one without the other. Maybe I was just terrified that I might be the closest thing she had to leaving a piece of herself behind.

That she was so much more than a housewife, than a mother. That she was her own spectacular individual. Perhaps I was still sanctimoniously belittling the two roles she was ultimately most proud of, unable to accept that the same degree of fulfillment may await those who wish to nurture and love as those who seek to earn and create. Her art was the love that beat on in her loved ones, a contribution to the world that could be just as monumental as a song or a book.

By Franklin Roosevelt's time Hilda Dietrich was forty, a housewife and mother, married to the Reverend Herman Dietrich, pastor of the Lutheran church. Like her husband, who said as much from his pulpit, Mrs Dietrich was fully persuaded that Italians were creatures with African blood, that all Italians carried knives, and that the country was in the clutches of the Mafia. It was no extremist theory. A lot of worried people believed it, particularly Italian-Americans.

She felt lately as though she had served her purpose, done her job, and been dispensed with, not only by her children, but by her husband as well.

But being a housewife and mother wasn’t really a job, was it? More like a role.

His wife had recently left him, saying that he didn’t respect her job as a housewife and mother. But being a housewife and mother wasn’t really a job, was it? More like a role. Anyway, she was gone.

Why is it 'housewife'? What would I call myself if we lived in a hotel? Nobody ever puts down just 'wife,' or even just 'mother.' If you haven't got a job, and you don't keep house, then you aren't anything. apparently. I wish I was something else. I mean, besides keeping house, I wish I was a designer, for instance. The children would think a lot more of me, if I was a designer. Maybe Tom would, too.

What is the age of the soul of man? As she hath the virtue of the chameleon to change her hue at every new approach, to be gay with the merry and mournful with the downcast, so too is her age changeable as her mood. No longer is Leopold, as he sits there, ruminating, chewing the cud of reminiscence, that staid agent of publicity and holder of a modest substance in the funds. He is young Leopold, as in a retrospective arrangement, a mirror within a mirror (hey, presto!), he beholdeth himself. That young figure of then is seen, precociously manly, walking on a nipping morning from the old house in Clambrassil street to the high school, his booksatchel on him bandolierwise, and in it a goodly hunk of wheaten loaf, a mother's thought. Or it is the same figure, a year or so gone over, in his first hard hat (ah, that was a day!), already on the road, a fullfledged traveller for the family firm, equipped with an orderbook, a scented handkerchief (not for show only), his case of bright trinketware (alas, a thing now of the past!), and a quiverful of compliant smiles for this or that halfwon housewife reckoning it out upon her fingertips or for a budding virgin shyly acknowledging (but the heart? tell me!) his studied baisemoins. The scent, the smile but more than these, the dark eyes and oleaginous address brought home at duskfall many a commission to the head of the firm seated with Jacob's pipe after like labours in the paternal ingle (a meal of noodles, you may be sure, is aheating), reading through round horned spectacles some paper from the Europe of a month before. But hey, presto, the mirror is breathed on and the young knighterrant recedes, shrivels, to a tiny speck within the mist. Now he is himself paternal and these about him might be his sons. Who can say? The wise father knows his own child. He thinks of a drizzling night in Hatch street, hard by the bonded stores there, the first. Together (she is a poor waif, a child of shame, yours and mine and of all for a bare shilling and her luckpenny), together they hear the heavy tread of the watch as two raincaped shadows pass the new royal university. Bridie! Bridie Kelly! He will never forget the name, ever remember the night, first night, the bridenight. They are entwined in nethermost darkness, the willer and the willed, and in an instant (fiat!) light shall flood the world. Did heart leap to heart? Nay, fair reader. In a breath 'twas done but - hold! Back! It must not be! In terror the poor girl flees away through the murk. She is the bride of darkness, a daughter of night. She dare not bear the sunnygolden babe of day. No, Leopold! Name and memory solace thee not. That youthful illusion of thy strength was taken from thee and in vain. No son of thy loins is by thee. There is none to be for Leopold, what Leopold was for Rudolph.

It was a woman in Minnesota who clarified this shift for me. She pointed out that her mother called herself a housewife. She, on the other hand, called herself a stay at home mom. The change in nomenclature reflects the shift in cultural emphasis: the pressures on women have gone from keeping an immaculate house to being an irreproachable mom … Back in the fifties, women were told to master the differences between oven cleaners and floor wax and special sprays for wood; today they’re told to master the differences between toys that hone problem solving skills and those that encourage imaginative play.

We may live without poetry, music and art; We may live without conscience, and live without heart; We may live without friends; we may live without books; But civilized man cannot live without cooks. ("OWEN MEREDITH")—Lucile.

I’m an old man trying to give a young daughter advice, and it’s like a monkey trying to teach table manners to a bear. A drunk driver took my son’s life seventeen years ago and my wife has never been the same since. I’ve always seen the question of abortion in terms of Fred. I seem to be helpless to see it any other way, just as helpless as you were to stop your giggles when they came on you at that poetry reading, Frannie. Your mother would argue against it for all the standard reasons. Morality, she’d say. A morality that goes back two thousand years. The right to life. All our Western morality is based on that idea. I’ve read the philosophers. I range up and down them like a housewife with a dividend check in the Sears and Roebuck store. Your mother sticks with the Reader’s Digest, but it’s me that ends up arguing from feeling and her from the codes of morality. I just see Fred. He was destroyed inside. There was no chance for him. These right-to-life biddies hold up their pictures of babies drowned in salt, and arms and legs scraped out onto a steel table, so what? The end of a life is never pretty. I just see Fred, lying in that bed for seven days, everything that was ruined pasted over with bandages. Life is cheap, abortion makes it cheaper. I read more than she does, but she is the one who ends up making more sense on this one. What we do and what we think… those things are so often based on arbitrary judgments when they are right. I can’t get over that. It’s like a block in my throat, how all true logic seems to proceed from irrationality. From faith. I’m not making much sense, am I?

When Pat Schroeder, a Harvard Law graduate, ran for office in 1972, the headlines read "Housewife" or "Mother" runs for Congress. When facing one indignant male colleague after another who demanded how she could be both a member of Congress and a mother, she said, "Because I have a brain and a uterus and both work.

In the back of the fridge I checked out some stewed apples destined to fester. I examined them closely and reckoned they had only a day to go, even by my standards. I spooned the apples into tiny bowls, tossed in some dried fruit and sprinkled them with crumble topping. Delicious, they said that night, scraping the bowls so clean they hardly needed to go in the dishwasher. The fools.

then stay at home, paula, and become a housewife and help me with the housework and with the animals and wait upon your dada as i wait upon him and also wait upon your brother, when he comes from the wood, why should you be better off than me, I was never better off than my mother, who was a housewife, because in those days there weren't any sales assistants here yet, and my dada would have beaten me to death if there had been any.

When you are a mother and a homemaker, you are your own boss. The days are what you make of them. The tasks that need to get done are put on a list at your discretion. This means that you must be leadership material. At the same time, what you get done is up to you, too. You also have to be a hardworking employee. The part of you that decides where to go must work with the part of you that needs to go there. Making a list that you cannot accomplish does not make you a better housewife, it makes you a bad leader.

In the storyline, Judy’s father Melvyn owned the Foster Can Company. Her mother was a typical radio housewife. Her brother Randolph had a large vocabulary and a “supreme distaste for girls” (Radio Life). Oogie Pringle, Judy’s boyfriend, was a paragon of radio adolescents. Her friends were named Gloria, Mitzi, Eleanor, Stinky Edwards, and Jo-Jo Duran. The plots were almost interchangeable with others involving teenagers of either sex: less zany, certainly, than The Aldrich Family, about on a par with Corliss Archer, and perhaps more palatable than Archie Andrews.

The suburban housewife—she was the dream image of the young American woman and the envy, it was said, of women all over the world. The American housewife—freed by science and labor-saving appliances from the drudgery, the dangers of childbirth and the illnesses of her grandmother. She was healthy, beautiful, educated, concerned only about her husband, her children, her home. She had found true feminine fulfillment. As a housewife and mother, she was respected as a full and equal partner to man in his world. She was free to choose automobiles, clothes, appliances, supermarkets; she had everything that women ever dreamed of.

This was no coincidence. The best short stories and the most successful jokes have a lot in common. Each form relies on suggestion and economy. Characters have to be drawn in a few deft strokes. There's generally a setup, a reveal, a reversal, and a release. The structure is delicate. If one element fails, the edifice crumbles. In a novel you might get away with a loose line or two, a saggy paragraph, even a limp chapter. But in the joke and in the short story, the beginning and end are precisely anchored tent poles, and what lies between must pull so taut it twangs. I'm not sure if there is any pattern to these selections. I did not spend a lot of time with those that seemed afraid to tell stories, that handled plot as if it were a hair in the soup, unwelcome and embarrassing. I also tended not to revisit stories that seemed bleak without having earned it, where the emotional notes were false, or where the writing was tricked out or primped up with fashionable devices stressing form over content. I do know that the easiest and the first choices were the stories to which I had a physical response. I read Jennifer Egan's "Out of Body" clenched from head to toe by tension as her suicidal, drug-addled protagonist moves through the Manhattan night toward an unforgivable betrayal. I shed tears over two stories of childhood shadowed by unbearable memory: "The Hare's Mask," by Mark Slouka, with its piercing ending, and Claire Keegan's Irishinflected tale of neglect and rescue, "Foster." Elizabeth McCracken's "Property" also moved me, with its sudden perception shift along the wavering sightlines of loss and grief. Nathan Englander's "Free Fruit for Young Widows" opened with a gasp-inducing act of unexpected violence and evolved into an ethical Rubik's cube. A couple of stories made me laugh: Tom Bissell's "A Bridge Under Water," even as it foreshadows the dissolution of a marriage and probes what religion does for us, and to us; and Richard Powers's "To the Measures Fall," a deftly comic meditation on the uses of literature in the course of a life, and a lifetime. Some stories didn't call forth such a strong immediate response but had instead a lingering resonance. Of these, many dealt with love and its costs, leaving behind indelible images. In Megan Mayhew Bergman's "Housewifely Arts," a bereaved daughter drives miles to visit her dead mother's parrot because she yearns to hear the bird mimic her mother's voice. In Allegra Goodman's "La Vita Nuova," a jilted fiancée lets her art class paint all over her wedding dress. In Ehud Havazelet's spare and tender story, "Gurov in Manhattan," an ailing man and his aging dog must confront life's necessary losses. A complicated, only partly welcome romance blossoms between a Korean woman and her demented

Becoming a parent is like being coated in beef blood and being thrown in a cage with an angry tiger.          Maybe I'm wrong, the tiger might actually have mercy on you and kill you quickly. Children have no mercy. They see that you have a weakness and they exploit it starting with pregnancy. I don’t believe for a second that they don’t know what they are doing in there. They do! Oh you want to go out today? BAM Bout of morning sickness that would lay low an elephant. You like that food? Let me tweek at your taste buds so it suddenly tastes like rhinoceros rectum deep fried. I think they have a little control center in your uterus to just continuously screw with you until you give up and just want them the hell out of your body.

It would be hard. After all, I'm working. I'm a mother. Number one, I'm a mother & housewife, so there's the house kind of chores. In the evenings, I might attend some meeting, & then late at night, I would be either writing to the brothers & sisters in prison or working on the leaflets of their cases. Then on the weekend, at least every other weekend, we'd visit the political prisoners...I mean everybody has their whole life & things they have to do at home. But I'll tell you, we were busy during this time. Every week, more brothers & sisters would be arrested. We were working on scores of cases at the same time--trying to keep up with visiting, writing, attending court hearings. If I could show you all the leaflets we made, you'd get an idea of how expansive the work was.

The antecedents of Friedan's version of feminism also bear revisiting in light of the new information. Her infamous description of America's suburban family household as "a comfortable concentration camp," in The Feminine Mystique, probably had more to do with her marxist hatred for America than for her own experience as a housewife and mother. Her husband, Carl, also a leftist, once complained to a reporter in 1970 that, far from being a homebody, his wife "was in the world during the whole marriage, either full time or free lance," lived in an eleven-room mansion on the Hudson with a full-time maid, and "seldom was a wife and a mother." Of course, no one paid much attention to the family "patriarch" when he supplied these interesting details, because as a male he was deemed guilty before the fact.

The traditional Roman wedding was a splendid affair designed to dramatize the bride’s transfer from the protection of her father’s household gods to those of her husband. Originally, this literally meant that she passed from the authority of her father to her husband, but at the end of the Republic women achieved a greater degree of independence, and the bride remained formally in the care of a guardian from her blood family. In the event of financial and other disagreements, this meant that her interests were more easily protected. Divorce was easy, frequent and often consensual, although husbands were obliged to repay their wives’ dowries. The bride was dressed at home in a white tunic, gathered by a special belt which her husband would later have to untie. Over this she wore a flame-colored veil. Her hair was carefully dressed with pads of artificial hair into six tufts and held together by ribbons. The groom went to her father’s house and, taking her right hand in his, confirmed his vow of fidelity. An animal (usually a ewe or a pig) was sacrificed in the atrium or a nearby shrine and an Augur was appointed to examine the entrails and declare the auspices favorable. The couple exchanged vows after this and the marriage was complete. A wedding banquet, attended by the two families, concluded with a ritual attempt to drag the bride from her mother’s arms in a pretended abduction. A procession was then formed which led the bride to her husband’s house, holding the symbols of housewifely duty, a spindle and distaff. She took the hand of a child whose parents were living, while another child, waving a hawthorn torch, walked in front to clear the way. All those in the procession laughed and made obscene jokes at the happy couple’s expense. When the bride arrived at her new home, she smeared the front door with oil and lard and decorated it with strands of wool. Her husband, who had already arrived, was waiting inside and asked for her praenomen or first name. Because Roman women did not have one and were called only by their family name, she replied in a set phrase: “Wherever you are Caius, I will be Caia.” She was then lifted over the threshold. The husband undid the girdle of his wife’s tunic, at which point the guests discreetly withdrew. On the following morning she dressed in the traditional costume of married women and made a sacrifice to her new household gods. By the late Republic this complicated ritual had lost its appeal for sophisticated Romans and could be replaced by a much simpler ceremony, much as today many people marry in a registry office. The man asked the woman if she wished to become the mistress of a household (materfamilias), to which she answered yes. In turn, she asked him if he wished to become paterfamilias, and on his saying he did the couple became husband and wife.

were touched, though in my case gently, by the war’s long shadow. My husband and I both had fathers who served in the US Army, as did all our uncles except for one in the navy and one who became an air force pilot. But women played an active role too. An aunt by marriage was an army nurse, and my own mother was an officer in WAVES, “Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service.” As a child, I was fascinated to learn that my respectable mother, housewife and pillar of her church, had once worn a pistol on her hip—one

Whoa,” Becky said, because the baby kicked her hard in the bladder. Felix startled, backing up and nearly falling over a chair. “Sorry, I was whoa-ing because right when you came in, the baby kicked, not because you’re Felix Callahan. Oh, you know what it reminded me of ? When Elisabeth’s baby kicks just as Mary greets her? Isn’t that funny? As if I had some spiritual sign when I saw you.” Annette smiled, her eyebrows raised. Felix glared handsomely. Becky stamped down a desire to squirm. “No, it’s not terribly funny,” Felix said, “particularly as I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Elisabeth, wife of Zacharias, cousin to Mary, mother of Jesus? No? Nothing?” Felix looked at her with a careful lack of amusement. “Oh, maybe you don’t have the Bible in England. See, there’s this guy named Jesus and his mother is named Mary, and well, it’s a really interesting read if you don’t mind parables.

It must be about six o’clock. My knees are tense. I realise that what I used to refer to, to Mother Sugar, as “the housewife’s disease”has taken hold of me. The tension in me, so that peace has already gone away from me, is because the current has been switched on: I must-dress-Janet-get-her-breakfast-send-her-off-to-school-get-Michael’s-breakfast-don’t-forget-I’m-out-of-tea-etc.-etc. With this useless but apparently unavoidable tension resentment is also switched on. Resentment against what? An unfairness. That I should have to spend so much of my time worrying over details. The resentment focuses itself on Michael; although I know with my intelligence it has nothing to do with Michael. And yet I do resent him, because he will spend his day, served by secretaries, nurses, women in all kinds of capacities, who will take this weight off him. I try to relax myself, to switch off the current. But my limbs have started to ache, and I must turn over.

To the casual observer there was nothing unusual about these six hours. To the casual observer this Friday was a normal Friday. Six hours of routine. Six hours of the expected. Six hours. One Friday. Enough time for a shepherd to examine his flocks, a housewife to clean and organize her house, a physician to receive a baby from a mother’s womb and cool the fever of one near death. Six hours. From 9:00 am to 3:00 PM. Six hours. One Friday. Six hours filled with, as are all hours, the mystery of life.

Observing Colette made me question my mother’s dreams. Her lack of purpose seemed more and more an oddity, suspect, even anti-feminist. That my care played such a principal role in her life was a vocation I naively condemned, rebuffing the intensive, invisible labor as the errand work of a housewife who’d neglected to develop a passion or a practical skill set. It wasn’t until years later, after I left for college, that I began to understand what it meant to make a home and just how much I had taken mine for granted.

Odd how differently people look on home. To me it’s my real ‘core’ of life and living. I can always relax and read or sew happily if I’m on my own, and would like to have people in rather than go out looking for change. My husband has his mother’s deep horror of being in the house by himself, and only wanders around unhappily, looking out of windows, watching the clock and timing my return.

Her mother in particular spoke at length about her disappointment in my wife’s lack of professional accomplishments, noted that her being a housewife was nothing to be proud

It’s funny. My own mother was a housewife all her life. And yet it’s turned out that I’ve hired a lot of women for top jobs, and they’ve been among my best people. Often, in fact, they are far more effective than the men around them.

Her very soul is in home, and in the discharge of all those quiet virtues of which home is the centre. Her husband will be to her the object of all her care, solicitude and affection. She will see nothing but by him, and through him. If he is a man of sense and virtue, she will sympathize in his sorrows, divert his fatigue, and share his pleasures. If she becomes the property of a churlish or negligent husband, she will suit his taste also, for she will not long survive his unkindness."—SIR WALTER SCOTT—Waverley.

She, keeping green Love's lilies for the one unseen, Counselling but her woman's heart, Chose in all ways the better part. BENJAMIN HATHAWAY—By the Fireside.

February 4–15: The couple visits holy places, Osaka, Mount Fuji, Yokohama, and the Izu Peninsula. Marilyn looks especially comfortable among a group of women dressed in traditional Japanese clothing. In some shots she wears a hat and a modestly cut suit. Marilyn accepts the Japanese emperor’s gift of a natural pearl necklace. In Korea to entertain the troops General John E. Hull invites Marilyn to entertain American troops in Korea. A disturbed DiMaggio opposes the invitation, but Marilyn accepts it. Marilyn writes photographer Bruno Bernard from Japan: “I’m so happy and in love. . . . I’ve decided for sure that it’ll be better if I only make one or two more films after I shoot There’s No Business Like Show Business and then retire to the simple good life of a housewife and, hopefully, mother. Joe wants a big family. He was real surprised when we were met at the airport by such gigantic crowds and press. He said he never saw so much excitement, not even when the Yankees won the World Series.

We have been conditioned by today's advertising to respond instantly to the word "housewife" with the word "drudgery". ... A creative Counterpart is more than just a helper. She is a woman who having chosen (or have found herself in) the vocation of wife and mother, decides to learn and grow in all the areas this role and to work as hard as if she were aiming for the presidency of corporation. Functioning as a professional in all areas of marriage is the essence of being a creative counterpart.

Jan was born in a small town outside of Kiev, Ukraine. He was an only child. His mother was a housewife, his father a construction manager. When Koum was sixteen, he and his mother immigrated to Mountain View, California, mainly to escape the anti-semitic environment of their homeland. Unfortunately, Jan’s father never made the trip. He got stuck in the Ukraine, where he eventually died years later. His mother swept the floors of a grocery store to make ends meet, but she was soon diagnosed with cancer. They barely survived off her disability insurance. It certainly wasn’t the most glamorous childhood, but he made it through. After college, Jan applied to work at Yahoo as an infrastructure engineer. He spent nine years building his skills at Yahoo, and then applied to work at Facebook. Unfortunately, he was rejected. In 2009, Jan bought an iPhone and realized there was an opportunity to build something on top of Apple’s burgeoning mobile platform. He began building an app that could send status updates between devices. It didn’t do very well at first, but then Apple released push notifications. All of the sudden, people started getting pinged when statuses were updated. And then people began pinging back and forth. Jan realized he had inadvertently created a messaging service. The app continued to grow, but Jan kept quiet. He didn’t care about headlines or marketing buzz. He just wanted to build something valuable, and do it well. By early 2011, his app had reached the top twenty in the U.S. app store. Two years later, in 2013, the app had 200 million users. And then it happened: In 2014, Jan’s company, WhatsApp, was acquired by Facebook―the company who had rejected him years earlier―for $19 billion. I’m not telling this story to insinuate that you should go build a billion-dollar company. The remarkable part of the story isn’t the payday, but the relentless hustle Jan demonstrated throughout his entire life. After surviving a tumultuous childhood, he practiced his craft and built iteratively. When had had a product that was working, he stayed quiet, which takes extreme discipline. More often than not, hustling isn’t fast or showy. Most of the time it’s slow and unglamorous―until it’s not. 

That a mother should wish to see her daughters happily married, is natural and proper; that a young lady should be pleased with polite attentions is likewise natural and innocent; but this undue anxiety, this foolish excitement about showing off the attentions of somebody, no matter whom, is attended with consequences seriously injurious. It promotes envy and rivalship; it leads our young girls to spend their time between the public streets, the ball room, and the toilet; and, worst of all, it leads them to contract engagements, without any knowledge of their own hearts, merely for the sake of being married as soon as their companions. When married, they find themselves ignorant of the important duties of domestic life; and its quiet pleasures soon grow tiresome to minds worn out by frivolous excitements. If they remain unmarried, their disappointment and discontent are, of course, in proportion to their exaggerated idea of the eclat attendant upon having a lover. The evil increases in a startling ratio; for these girls, so injudiciously educated, will, nine times out of ten, make injudicious mothers, aunts, and friends;

The Mommy Wars, as they stand today, serve as an effective check on the ambitions of the American mother. The phenomenon keeps women in a perpetual state of guilt, shame and inadequacy, and does so without involving anyone but wealthy white women.

The outrageous madonna/whore duality that we mock in Women’s Studies 101 has its subtle, and very insidious, expression in the good/bad mother paradigm that we grapple with every day of our lives.

I want the housewife to know that she is filling the most important need in the world. I want her to know that she was designed to be a good wife and mother and that to be a good wife and mother is the greatest profession in the world. I want to challenge every wife and mother in the world to assume a feeling of genuine importance and to know how needed they are. Fill our minds with the thoughts of who you really are and how important you are.

Bread, however, is their chief food. It is cheap; they like it; it comes into the house ready cooked, it is always at hand, and needs no plate and spoon. Spread with a scraping of butter, jam, or margarine, according to the length of purse of the mother, they never, tire of it as long as they are in their ordinary state of health. They receive it into their hands, and can please themselves as to where and how they eat it. It makes the sole article in the menu for two meals in the day. Dinner may consist of anything from the joint on Sunday to boiled rice on Friday. Potatoes will play a great part as a rule, at dinner, but breakfast and tea will be bread.

My own mother was never a housewife. But she’s always deferred to my father. He’s the head of the family, and she’s his right hand. I don’t want to be anybody’s hand. That’s why I’m never getting married.

was difficult to write about someone I felt I knew so well. The words were unwieldy, engorged with pretension. I wanted to uncover something special about her that only I could reveal. That she was so much more than a housewife, than a mother. That she was her own spectacular individual. Perhaps I was still sanctimoniously belittling the two roles she was ultimately most proud of, unable to accept that the same degree of fulfillment may await those who wish to nurture and love as those who seek to earn and create. Her art was the love that beat on in her loved ones, a contribution to the world that could be just as monumental as a song or a book. There could not be one without the other. Maybe I was just terrified that I might be the closest thing she had to leaving a piece of herself behind.

For women, the life choices (which by in large are made for them by their societies) come down to one of two evils - either the overloaded worker / wife / mother with her double burden, or the underoccupied housewife / drone with her half-life of deprivation and despair.

Michelle Obama is queen of modern feminism, but she’s still a wife and mother and she still has great hair. It’s about having the right to choose—you can choose to put on a pinny and be a fifties housewife if you want, you can choose to travel to Peru and join a commune or enlist in the space program and be the first woman on Mars. You can live how you like; but the point is we should have the chance to choose, not get railroaded into a role society dictates for us.

Someone once said to me, ‘Well, at least your dad died doing what he loved.’ My dad was fifty-four! I said, ‘What does your mother do?’ He said, ‘Oh, she’s a housewife.’ I said, ‘Let’s go over to her house while she’s doing the laundry and I’ll blow her fucking head off. At least she will have died doing what she loved.

The ideal of the perfect housewife and mother may have changed a little over the years, but these roles did not disappear or become obsolete. Instead they were added to the new roles women were taking on in the world and in their careers.

I lived my life as best I could, hidden behind a thin yet sturdy veil of shyness. Yes, I know it’s hard to believe, but I was really shy, perhaps because of our situation: My father was absent, and my mother was too blond, too tall, too lively, and, above all, unmarried. Her eccentric, excessive beauty embarrassed me. She was a ragazza madre, a girl-mother, as the saying goes. I dreamed of a normal, reassuring mother, with black hair, a creased apron, her hands rough, and her eyes tired—like Mamma Luisa, whom I would find once again a few decades later in A Special Day, a movie in which I play a character named Antonietta, a devoted housewife and mother of six.

It's difficult not to read Vivien(ne) as this pathetic spectacle of illness and dependence. The ultimate grotesque of femininity, like Freud's hysteric/housewife (both Dora and her mother). But channeling her, imagining an interior life, I can sense her early inner spirit and see it squelched and doomed into sickness and submission. Under different circumstances and with more strength and less of a mother who crafted her as an invalid from childhood., she could have been an author. Maybe.

Look,' she said. 'Being a mother is the most complicated thing I have done in this life. It's as if, overnight, you have lost the self you once knew. ... And sometimes - sometimes that is unbearable. And yes, sometimes you are the housewife, you are standing there with the laundry and cursing to yourself, you are ready to scream, you think: How can I exist in this domestic scene when I have all these thoughts, all these things I want to be doing, all these things I want to say! But it was only after I adopted the girls that I began to actually see what life was. ... Being a feminist is about love ... It's about finding power in love, finding a politics in love. ... A mother's is the deepest love that exists. There's nothing else that comes close.

Mom wasn’t a weak person, or a wisp of a domineered housewife who hid in the background. Far from it. She was a vivacious, funny, and smart woman who loudly voiced her opinions, and would’ve been a suffragette had she lived in the twenties. She was gorgeous, with shoulder-length brown hair and beautiful brown eyes. She was strong and was an athlete as a teenager. She smoked, drank, and laughed out loud. A vital presence. She just never did understand or relate to children. She left school as a teenager and worked full-time in an office, then married young and became a mother and housewife. Now she found herself in New York in the swinging sixties, and despite my dad’s best efforts to make her the perfect square wife, she was energized, curious, and had time on her hands. She took music lessons, looked longingly at the bohemian lifestyle, and went off alone to the Newport Jazz Festival to see Miles Davis. Not about to be the happy homemaker, she wanted to party. Dad never became rich, and I’ve been told some blame fell upon my mom for failing to help him climb the career ladder. Instead of standing by her man, she acquired hippie habits, wore dashikis, and was a lousy teammate at cocktail parties.

Mom wasn’t a weak person, or a wisp of a domineered housewife who hid in the background. Far from it. She was a vivacious, funny, and smart woman who loudly voiced her opinions, and would’ve been a suffragette had she lived in the twenties. She was gorgeous, with shoulder-length brown hair and beautiful brown eyes. She was strong and was an athlete as a teenager. She smoked, drank, and laughed out loud. A vital presence. She just never did understand or relate to children. She left school as a teenager and worked full-time in an office, then married young and became a mother and housewife. Now she found herself in New York in the swinging sixties, and despite my dad’s best efforts to make her the perfect square wife, she was energized, curious, and had time on her hands. She took music lessons, looked longingly at the bohemian lifestyle, and went off alone to the Newport Jazz Festival to see Miles Davis. Not about to be the happy homemaker, she wanted to party.

Her mother had detested being a housewife—forced into a role her mother had played and her mother before her—and yet, in the ultimate life blind spot, what did Mom want for her own daughter? To find a man and settle down and have children of her own—as though resentment and unhappiness were a legacy she hoped to pass down. What kind of subversive logic was that? Now

Lorenzo married a local English woman called Patricia Brown, who was also getting used to life's disappointments, having exchanged her dream of being an actress for the mundane, daily theatre of the suburban housewife, and whose culinary skills were forever under the ghostly shadow of her dead Puglian mother-in-law and her legendary spaghetti dishes, which, in Lorenzo's eyes, could never be surpassed.

Feminism has waged war on the traditional family by undermining male rule in the home and by degrading the roles of mother and housewife.

The Great Divorce where the main character witnesses the spectacle of a heavenly parade with shining angels, saints, and animals flowing and dancing around a luminous woman who was so beautiful she was almost “unbearable” to behold. At first the observer thinks she must be Eve or Mary, the mother of Jesus. But he is told that, no, it is Sarah Smith, who lived as a suburban London housewife. In heaven, though, she is counted as one of the “great ones.” How did she get this status? Because in her ordinary life, she became mother to every young man, woman, boy, girl, dog, or cat she encountered, loving them all in a way that made them more loveable and more eager to love others.

Call Girls in Lahore 03205753005 Young Girls at Low Price Available 24/7 Lahore call girls Service | call girls for Dating Hookups Today, everyone’s life is dominated by stress from work and anxiety. To get through these problems, we need a loving and caring partner more than anything else. However, many men are lonely because they don’t have a female partner intimacy. You’ve come to the right place if you want to meet hot women and escape this lonely world. Welcome to the best and most popular Lahore call girls service. We are very proud to offer a wide range of beautiful call girls for our clients to choose from and hire the one who is perfect for them. We have a special list of call girls in Lahore, and each one was carefully chosen for her stunning good looks, fantastic body, and, most importantly, professionalism. We have many choices to meet your needs and satisfy your desires, whether you’re looking for a night out or a loving relationship. Just like everyone is unique, each person has different wants and needs, and it is our job to ensure all of their dreams come true. To make things even better, we have a vast selection of high-class, model, celebrity, and young, mother-female call girls for dating and hookups. We know privacy is essential to everyone, and no one wants it to be revealed. Because of this, we provide our high-class clients with call girls in Lahore hotels to keep them safe from any risks or unknowns. In addition to having beautiful bodies and looks, all of our Lahore call girls are highly trained and professional. They are committed to meeting all of your needs, whether or related to dating, in just one meeting. Know What Kind of call girls in Lahore You Can Hire With Us? At Lahore call girls Service Agency, we’re known for being the first and only place women looking for work must go. This didn’t just happen; it took years of hard work to meet different people’s needs and wants. To keep our word, we offer the most extensive list of strippers in call girls in Lahore, with over 100 profiles of beautiful girls ready to make your night the and most memorable of your life. We have a lot of different call girls, but here are some of the most popular ones that you can hire from us: 1. High Profile call girls Here are our high-profile call girls, who are always ready to go to high-class events or business meetings with all of these top or wealthy men who want to be with a beautiful and sophisticated woman. They come from a rich family and spend much time with affluent clients, so they know how to treat or act around wealthy people respectfully. 2. Housewife call girls If you’re tired of making out with your partner who can’t make you happy, don’t be afraid to hire one of our housewife models. They are much more skilled and professional than regular companions, and they can meet all of your fantasies, whether you are dreaming about them or expecting your friends to do it for you. 3. Incall Outcall call girls Almost all men want to make out with female hookers, but most of them give up on their plan because they don’t feel safe going to their place. But what if we told you you could hire them to come to your place? Yes, you can. We have a wide range of exclusive in-call and out-call call girls for you to choose from, and you can either go to their private, safe places or call them at any time. Meet call girls in Lahore Hotel Rooms for a One-Night Stand. As one of the best and most trustworthy agencies, we must serve our customers in the safest and best ways possible. That’s why we want you to meet a beautiful and curvy Lahore call girl in a hotel room for a one-night stand without any worries. #low price call girl in Lahore || #Lahore call girl || #Lahore call girl contact no || call girls in Lahore || call girl Lahore || #Lahore escort call girl || call girl Lahore number || #Lahore call girls service || #Lahore call girls numbers

Lahore Escort Service >> 03294111153 >> 100+ Sexy Call Girls Available Call Girls Available For Booking/Appointment Contact us on these Number: 03210033448 03292178555 03294111153 Party All Night With Our Independent Escorts in Lahore In Lahore, the fun never ends. It’s always party time, and you won’t want to miss any of them with our lahore escorts service. Our beautiful maid is here for you if you are single and here. When it comes to Lahore, our exotic escort services always know where the party is, making it easy for you to join. You should end your trip to Lahore with a DJ night party, and we can help you do that. We can take you to the best nightclubs, pubs, and lounges in Lahore so you can have the best time. Meet Hot Lahore Escorts to Fulfill your Sexual Requirements Everybody needs to have sex. There are sexual needs for every living thing on the world. We also want to have fun and sex. Everybody wants their sex life to be fun and enjoyable. Far too many guys are unhappy with their sex lives, which is a shame. A lot of guys don’t have exciting sex lives. They don’t have much fun with their sex lives because they can’t find the right escorts in Lahore. They’re single, but they always want to hang out with a hot girl who can make their girlfriend’s life more interesting. Are you one of them, or are you really single? Also, do you want some fun and pleasure in your sex life? If so, this is the end of your search. Do you always want to satisfy your sex needs with a hot massage girl? Are you always on the lookout for a beautiful woman who can make you forget about your problems and enjoy life? If so, you should meet one of our single escorts in Lahore to get rid of all your stress. Our hot and sexy girls in Lahore are always ready to meet all of your sexual needs and wants. This is where you can always find the sexiest group of famous girls in Lahore. We can give you very pretty hookers who have been checked out. Of all the people you will ever meet, they are all the most attractive. The skills and talents of our independent escorts in Lahore are truly amazing. You’ll never be let down by our women in Lahore. Do you understand? Because these beautiful women aren’t in the city anywhere else. The women who do these hookups are really into sex. They do a lot of sexy things to get guys to like them. Our Pakistani girls are also experts at changing positions in bed for more than one sex and pleasure. You should look into private escort services in Lahore. Lahore Independent Escorts For Memorable Are you looking for amazing Lahore escorts to satisfy your sex needs? There are times when you need to do something just for yourself. Turn off all the noise inside and outside your head and get going with Lahore’s beautiful women and girls. Our sources make it easy to find independent women in Lahore. Women who work and girls from wealthy families give their time to guys who will make them happy in return. The work they have to do with you is something they are very good at. We even teach our Lahore independent girls how to please a man if they don’t know how already. You don’t have to hide how you feel about anything. She’s only there to make you happy, and the point of our secret meeting is to make you happy. Grooms in Lahore are ready to take a chance on your plans for a fun night out. Lahore Housewife Escort Our Bhabhi, or mother, escorts in Lahore are the first choice for young boys who want a hard-core sex service. Unsatisfied Housewife Escorts are the best way to get more sexual pleasure. Your life will be full of happiness with all the grown or skilled newlywed girls out there. VIP Escort Girl in Lahore There is a Premium and VIP Escorts Service for all High Class Clients. If you want to find VIP escorts for sex in 5 star hotels in Lahore.

Call Girls in Bilal town 03205753005 Sexy Girls at Low Price Available 24/7 Bilal town call girls Service | call girls for Dating & Sex Hookups Today, everyone’s life is dominated by stress from work and anxiety. To get through these problems, we need a loving and caring partner more than anything else. However, many men are lonely because they don’t have a female partner or sexual intimacy. You’ve come to the right place if you want to meet hot women and escape this lonely world. Welcome to the best and most popular Bilal Town call girls service. We are very proud to offer a wide range of beautiful call girls for our clients to choose from and hire the one who is perfect for them. We have a special list of call girls in Bilal Town, and each one was carefully chosen for her stunning good looks, fantastic body, and, most importantly, professionalism. We have many choices to meet your needs and satisfy your desires, whether you’re looking for a sexy night out or a loving relationship. Just like everyone is unique, each person has different wants and needs, and it is our job to ensure all of their dreams come true. To make things even better, we have a vast selection of high-class, model, celebrity, and young, mother-female call girls for dating and sex hookups. We know privacy is essential to everyone, and no one wants it to be revealed. Because of this, we provide our high-class clients with call girls in Bilal Town hotels to keep them safe from any risks or unknowns. In addition to having beautiful bodies and looks, all of our Islamabad call girls are highly trained and professional. They are committed to meeting all of your needs, whether sexual or related to dating, in just one meeting. Know What Kind of call girls in Bilal Town You Can Hire With Us? At Bilal Town call girls Service Agency, we’re known for being the first and only place women looking for work must go. This didn’t just happen; it took years of hard work to meet different people’s needs and wants. To keep our word, we offer the most extensive list of strippers in call girls in Bilal Town, with over 100 profiles of beautiful girls ready to make your night the sexiest and most memorable of your life. We have a lot of different call girls, but here are some of the most popular ones that you can hire from us: 1. High Profile call girls Here are our high-profile call girls, who are always ready to go to high-class events or business meetings with all of these top or wealthy men who want to be with a beautiful and sophisticated woman. They come from a rich family and spend much time with affluent clients, so they know how to treat or act around wealthy people respectfully. 2. Housewife call girls If you’re tired of making out with your partner who can’t make you happy, don’t be afraid to hire one of our housewife models. They are much more skilled and professional than regular companions, and they can meet all of your sexual fantasies, whether you are dreaming about them or expecting your friends to do it for you. 3. Incall Outcall call girls Almost all men want to make out with female hookers, but most of them give up on their plan because they don’t feel safe going to their place. But what if we told you you could hire them to come to your place? Yes, you can. We have a wide range of exclusive in-call and out-call call girls for you to choose from, and you can either go to their private, safe places or call them at any time. Meet call girls in Bilal Town Hotel Rooms for a One-Night Stand.

Call Girls in F-6 03205753005 Sexy Girls at Low Price Available 24/7 F-6 call girls Service | call girls for Dating & Sex Hookups Today, everyone’s life is dominated by stress from work and anxiety. To get through these problems, we need a loving and caring partner more than anything else. However, many men are lonely because they don’t have a female partner or sexual intimacy. You’ve come to the right place if you want to meet hot women and escape this lonely world. Welcome to the best and most popular F-6 call girls service. We are very proud to offer a wide range of beautiful call girls for our clients to choose from and hire the one who is perfect for them. We have a special list of call girls in F-6, and each one was carefully chosen for her stunning good looks, fantastic body, and, most importantly, professionalism. We have many choices to meet your needs and satisfy your desires, whether you’re looking for a sexy night out or a loving relationship. Just like everyone is unique, each person has different wants and needs, and it is our job to ensure all of their dreams come true. To make things even better, we have a vast selection of high-class, model, celebrity, and young, mother-female call girls for dating and sex hookups. We know privacy is essential to everyone, and no one wants it to be revealed. Because of this, we provide our high-class clients with call girls in F-6 hotels to keep them safe from any risks or unknowns. In addition to having beautiful bodies and looks, all of our Islamabad call girls are highly trained and professional. They are committed to meeting all of your needs, whether sexual or related to dating, in just one meeting. Know What Kind of call girls in F-6 You Can Hire With Us? At F-6 call girls Service Agency, we’re known for being the first and only place women looking for work must go. This didn’t just happen; it took years of hard work to meet different people’s needs and wants. To keep our word, we offer the most extensive list of strippers in call girls in F-6, with over 100 profiles of beautiful girls ready to make your night the sexiest and most memorable of your life. We have a lot of different call girls, but here are some of the most popular ones that you can hire from us: 1. High Profile call girls Here are our high-profile call girls, who are always ready to go to high-class events or business meetings with all of these top or wealthy men who want to be with a beautiful and sophisticated woman. They come from a rich family and spend much time with affluent clients, so they know how to treat or act around wealthy people respectfully. 2. Housewife call girls If you’re tired of making out with your partner who can’t make you happy, don’t be afraid to hire one of our housewife models. They are much more skilled and professional than regular companions, and they can meet all of your sexual fantasies, whether you are dreaming about them or expecting your friends to do it for you. 3. Incall Outcall call girls Almost all men want to make out with female hookers, but most of them give up on their plan because they don’t feel safe going to their place. But what if we told you you could hire them to come to your place? Yes, you can. We have a wide range of exclusive in-call and out-call call girls for you to choose from, and you can either go to their private, safe places or call them at any time. Meet call girls in F-6 Hotel Rooms for a One-Night Stand. As one of the best and most trustworthy agencies, we must serve our customers in the safest and best ways possible. That’s why we want you to meet a beautiful and curvy F-6 call girl in a hotel room for a one-night stand without any worries.