. . . but mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute - look at it and really see it - live it - and never give it back.

To my way of thinking, the American family started to decline when parents began to communicate with their children.

It's [motherhood] the biggest on-the-job- training program in existence today.

Who in their infinite wisdom decreed that Little League uniforms be white? Certainly not a mother.

The family. We are a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms. . . and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together.

With girls, everything looks great on the surface. But beware of drawers that won't open. They contain a three-month supply of dirty underwear, unwashed hose, and rubber bands with blobs of hair in them.

Women are never what they seem to be. There is the woman you see and there is the woman who is hidden. Buy the gift for the woman who is hidden.