Someone told me once that you can’t be friends with your kids. I say that person is an idiot. You quickly realize that making friends with these little people that confiscate most of your waking hours is a smart move on your part.

My children’s butts seem to be permanently stuck to the living room couch. I often wonder if it’s some kind of earthly magnetic pull that works on teenagers and men past forty.

Look,' I reason, 'Mommy doesn't wear flowers with lines does she?' She just shrugs as if to say, 'If YOU'RE that controlled by societal opinion, that's you're problem.

I'm the mother of 5. When God said, 'Multiply and replenish the earth' I thought he meant me personally!

You’re the prettiest mommy,” she said and I secretly felt grateful that she didn’t notice the gray and the extra pounds. In my heart I knew however, that if she had, she would have called them something wonderful.

My sister knows how to love my children as if they were her own, only she’s better at it, because she never gets tired of talking about dragons or the latest teen movie and she never gets mad when they forget to put the cap back on the toothpaste.