Judith Allison Pearson (née Lobbett;[1] born 22 July 1960) is a British columnist and author.[2][3] (wikipedia)
The quickest way to stop noticing something may be to buy it, just as the quickest way to stop appreciating a person may be to marry them.
Men worry about childcare with their wallets, women feel it in their wombs.
Women run the small country called Home, millions of us do it in our spare time, and no one who doesn't run that small country really knows what it feels like in the dead of night when task lists jitter like tickertape through your seething brain.
The times you don't make it are the ones children remember, not the times you do.
My mother was a stay-at-home mom until I was about 11, when she got a job - and it was like a light came on inside her. It's not wrong to be passionate about your career. When you love what you do, you bring that stimulation back to your family.
My ideals told me that men and women could both go out to work and be truly equal. My children told me something more complicated, something I really didn't want to hear. Their need for me was like the need for water or light: it had a devastating simplicity to it.
My husband is old-fashioned and kind, he does the greatest Sinatra impression, and I'd never have written anything if he hadn't read all those bedtime stories and unloaded the dishwasher while I slaved over chapters.
For centuries, the question of men needing to comprehend women simply didn't arise. Men were valued according to how they measured up to the manly virtues.
My child was one of Nature's Tories pitted against a mother who was one of nurture's Lefties: it was no contest.
I don't believe for a minute that women really want to be understood by men.