Lately, I have been having nightmares, where I'm cut into so many pieces that there isn't enough of me to be put back together.

If he says jump, she doesn't even ask "How high?" She goes out and buys a pogo stick.

Accidents did not just happen. From time to time they were carefully plotted, calculated, and arranged to one’s advantage-all, of course, under the cloak of happenstance.

I don't know the first thing about holding together a family, especially one that resembles an heirloom vase, shattered but glued back together for its beauty, and no one mentions that you can see the cracks as plain as day.

sometimes words are not big enough to contain all the feelings you are trying to pour into them.

I think there are crossroads in our lives when we make grand, sweeping decisions without even realizing it.

Real mothers don't just listen with humble embarrassment to the elderly lady who offers unsolicited advice in the checkout line when a child is throwing a tantrum. We take the child, dump him in the lady's cart, and say, "Great. Maybe you can do a better job." Real mothers know that it's okay to eat cold pizza for breakfast. Real mothers admit it is easier to fail at this job than to succeed.