Age to women is what kryptonite is to Superman. Inside every older woman is a younger woman screaming, 'Get me the hell outta here.'

My sisters and I miss our dad dreadfully. But grief, of course, is the price of love.

Any woman who calls herself a post-feminist should keep her Wonderbra and burn her brains.

living with a teenage daughter is like living with the Taliban a mum is not allowed to laugh, sing, dance or wear short skirts

Home is where the heartache is.

. . . planning a brilliant menu and preparing it beautifully doesn't guarantee a recipe for success.

It's a mystery of parenthood that your son can give mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to a stray, worm-riddled dog, share a piece of re-chewed gum from a kid with bronchitis and pick his nose and eat it on a regular basis, yet won't sit next to his sister because of 'Girl Germs'.