For every hour a mother gets to herself, a father will demand five times that amount for drinking with friends and acting like an immature dipshit.

You always worry and you always fear what's next. But you eventually just push forward knowing you can't really do much about getting rid of the anxiety. You see people get pets after their kids leave the house because they're so used to having something around to dote on and worry about.

I know there's no heaven. I know it all turns to nothingness. But I fear there will be some remnant of me left within that void. Left conscious by some random fluke. Something that will scream out for this. That one speck of my soul will still exist and be left trapped and wanting. For you. For the light. For anything.

When a teacher is paying extra attention to your child, you believe that it's because you raised such an exceptional kid, one that stands out head and shoulders above the rest of her booger-eating friends.

You'll paint some nursery and the kid will want to sleep in a drawer.

With toilet books, people don't review them that much. They don't really pay much attention to them. It's just like, "Oh, okay. I'll put this in your stocking."

You need to be funny in a way that people feel like you're trying to make a deeper connection. So that's what I try to do.