The other daughter in law apparently was a super stay at home mum who waited on
her husband hand and foot.
It still amazes me to find bright, educated women who are forbidden to work outside the home, have no idea of their finances and must wait on
their husbands hand and foot.
Not exact matches
I tell them about standing up with my
husband's arms under my arms, a total stranger kneeling at my
feet to make sure that the baby didn't hit the cement floor,
and how I delivered that nearly 9 lbs baby boy into my own
hands.
On Sunday, a woman I know, a woman I like, mama of three, stood on stage in her jeans, with a guitar in her
hands, surrounded by neighbour - musicians, her
husband, too,
and she sang loud
and lusty psalm praise, her throat exposed, her
feet thumping, hair moving, voice carrying anthems,
and I stood in front of her, unable to move while everyone sang like Pentecostals.
I love long walks on the beach, answering emails from my hammock chair, putting my cold
hands and feet all over my
husband once he's warm in bed,
and pretending caffeine doesn't bother me.
You've nursed them since day one, grown to understand each one of their cries, have developed some sort of routine where waking up every hour to breastfeed only happens once or twice a week,
and hey, not to mention time off from work
and your
husband waiting on you
hand and foot.
My
husband has fibromyalgia
and neuropathy in His
hands and feet.
Walking into rooms full of only men, sitting in chairs hovered over by men, advised
and talked down to by her board that is only men, compared constantly to her father
and reminded repeatedly that he
handed over the business to her late
husband,
and in one significant moment, even talked to sharply by Bradlee himself (a scene lifted out of the mundane by just the look Streep gives,
and he ignores), the actor gives an outstanding portrayal of a woman finding her
feet.