You know, I feel like my job is to write a book. Then filmmakers come and they make a movie. And they're two really different art forms.

I love my husband more than I love my children.

I just don't have a lick of optimism left in me.

When my first daughter was born, my husband held her in his hands and said, 'My God, she's so beautiful.' I unwrapped the baby from her blankets. She was average size, with long thin fingers and a random assortment of toes. Her eyes were close set, and she had her father's hooked nose. It looked better on him.

I’ve sometimes thought that it’s only by recalling that desperate devotion my kids once felt for me that I can maintain my own desperate devotion in the face of their adolescent sneering.

In a perfect world, probably we'd never yell, we'd just be firm and dispassionate. But of course, everyone yells at their children.

Here are my Mommy Messages: Wear a condom and test your Molly.