I don't have a "Real Job". I am a "Housewife." My home is my business, my children are my career... I am mother, doctor, nurse, secretary, taxi cab driver, maid, cook, referee, waitress, guidance counselor, and teacher... I clean, scrub, wash, launder, dust, mop, sweep, disinfect, shop for, manage and maintain my household... I nurture, bathe, cloth, support, love, feed, drive, read to, play with and encourage my children... I tend to their coughs, sniffles, runny noses, sore throats, earaches, fevers, viruses, disappointments, failures, teacher scoldings, fights with friends, rivalries with siblings and heartaches... I praise their accomplishments, wins, losses, endeavors, projects, assignments, basketball games, dance recitals, school concerts, kind words and thoughtful gestures... I have no paid vacation, no sick days, no personal days, no raises, no overtime pay, no disability, no bonuses and no evaluations... I virtually never know if I am doing a good job, if I have failed or succeeded, or if my duties are even acknowledged... But every now and then, someone will climb into my lap and tell me they love me for no reason at all. Or someone will grab me and hug my leg, just because I'm their mom. Or maybe even one of them will eat what I just spent 2 hours cooking for dinner because last week it was their favorite... And as for compensation goes, that's enough for me. That's my pay... After all, it's not like I have a "Real Job." One afternoon a man came home from work to find total mayhem in his house. His three children were outside, still in their pajamas, playing in the mud, with empty food boxes and wrappers strewn all around the front yard. The door of his wife's car was open, as was the front door to the house. Proceeding into the entry, he found an even bigger mess. A lamp had been knocked over, and the throw rug was wadded against one wall. In the front room the TV was loudly blaring a cartoon channel, and the family room was strewn with toys and various items of clothing. In the kitchen, dishes filled the sink, breakfast food was spilled on the counter, dog food was spilled on the floor, a broken glass lay under the table, and a small pile of sand was spread by the back door. He quickly headed up the stairs, stepping over toys and more piles of clothes, looking for his wife. He was worried she may be ill, or that something serious had happened. He found her lounging in the bedroom, still curled in the bed in her pajamas, reading a novel. She looked up at him, smiled, and asked how his day went. He looked at her bewildered and asked, "What happened here today?" She again smiled and answered, "You know every day when you come home from work and ask me what in the world I did today?" "Yes" was his incredulous reply. She answered, "Well, today I didn't do it." Send this page to another Mother. I received both of these through the e-mail. Author unknown to both. I do not take credit for writing either of these! This page built and maintained by: Nicky