Imagine if you succeeded in making the world perfect for your children what a shock the rest of life would be for them.

Growing up in the fifties and sixties, I can only remember knowing one child, ever, whose parents got a divorce, and hardly any whose mother "worked" at anything besides raising her children.

Every child, woman, and man should possess license to speak or sing in his or her true voice.

I have long observed that the act of writing is viewed, by some, as an elite and otherworldly act, all the more so if a person isn't paid for what she writes.

You lay your hand against his skin and just rib his back. Blow into his ear. Press that baby up against your own skin and walk outside with him, where the night air will sourround him, and moonlight fall on his face. Whistle, maybe. Dance. Hum. Pray. (how to calm a crying baby)

If I told you about all the stories I don't tell, I would be violating the very boundaries I set for myself.

For 25 years, I did take my responsibilities as a pleaser of others sufficiently seriously.