I have to say that my husband and my children are so tough, there really is no space for pretension.
The husband - by primitive instinct partly, certainly by ancient tradition - regards himself as the active partner in matters of love and his own pleasure as legitimately the prime motive for activity.
For someone to say that marriage is only about procreation is a joke. I didn't marry my husband to have children. I married my husband because I love my husband.
During prom season, I travel around the country with a 20-by-24 camera - which is logistically complicated - and photograph proms. My husband made a film of it.
Use visual cues to prompt yourself to put away more. A photograph of the beach house where you and your husband can envision spending your retirement will remind you to bump up the contribution to your 401(k); a snapshot of your child in a college sweatshirt can encourage you to put more into a 529 college savings plan.
Families, generally, suck. And I say that as someone who, like my husband, had parents who proved the proverbial exception to the rule.
I'm a character and a sports entertainer and a wrestler, but I'm also a father and a husband and a provider.
This is how psychiatry has functioned-as a kind of property arm of the government, who can put you away if your husband doesn't like you.
My father was the quintessential husband and dad.
I have to say I know much more about football than I would like to, because my husband is a rabid football fan, and it's been so horrible.
To what a bad choice is many a worthy woman betrayed, by that false and inconsiderate notion, That a reformed rake makes the best husband!
I want people to see how hard my husband and kids work on the ranch.
When I'm writing, I spend all my time in The Grocer on Elgin buying ready-made meals; I think they are the only reason my husband and kids haven't left me.
Portion control is a real problem. My husband and I always split one appetizer and one entree. I'm sure waiters hate us.
Like all New York hotel lady cashiers she had red hair and had been disappointed in her first husband.
I know someone young whose husband left her for another woman. He later came back and wanted to rekindle the relationship. It was too late. His ex-wife had found someone else. Good for her.
I didn't write about my mother much in the third year after she died. I was still trying to get my argument straight: When her friends or our relatives wondered why I was still so hard on her, I could really lay out the case for what it had been like to be raised by someone who had loathed herself, her husband, even her own name.
I honestly never had the biological need to reproduce until I met my husband. But by the same token, even if we were unsuccessful, we were totally okay with adopting.
That is, the wife must care for what the husband cares for if he is to remain resolute.
When a man retires, his wife gets twice the husband but only half the income.
