I lost everything in the post-natal depression.
Good kids are like sunsets. We take them for granted.
My mother phones daily to ask, "Did you just try to reach me?" When I reply no, she adds, "So, if you're not too busy, call me while I'm still alive," . . . and hangs up.
It is not until you become a mother that your judgment slowly turns to compassion and understanding.
A small waist makes you tire easily.
The grass is always greener over the septic tank.