#mother

The big difference between my mom and me-- besides the fact that she is dead normal and I'm a magic-handling freak-- is that she's the real thing. She may have a slight problem seeing other people's points of view, but she's honest about it. She's a brass-bound bitch because she believes she knows best. I'm a brass-bound bitch because I don't want anyone getting close enough to find out what a whiny little knot of naked nerve endings I really am. ↗

— Robin McKinley

#magic #mothers #humor

When you feel neglected, think of the female salmon, who lays 3,000,000 eggs but no one remembers her on Mother's Day ↗

— Sam Ewing

#mother #humor

Girls," their mother interjected, "you must both stop being strange - it is unattractive. And don't forget your hats. It would be absolutely the end for me if you two came down with freckles at a time like this. ↗

— Anna Godbersen

#freckles #hats #humor #luxe #mothers

She pondered the arrangements of the paintings on a wall like a writer pondered commas. ↗

— Jonathan Franzen

#mother #home

As Lacy waited for her turn to speak on Peter's behalf, she thought back to the first time she realized she could hate her own child. ↗

— Jodi Picoult

#hate #lacy #motherhood #peter #unconditional-love

The best way to keep children at home is to make the home atmosphere pleasant, and let the air out of the tires. ↗

— Dorothy Parker

#humor #motherhood #parenthood #parenting #humor

Sweater, n. Garment worn by child when its mother is feeling chilly. ↗

— Ambrose Bierce

#children #clothes #clothing #definition #humor

Half the time your kids end up hating you for at least 5 of their teenage years[.] And don't ever expect anything so mundane as a thank you ↗

— Donna Ball

#motherhood #humor

They loved the sea. They taught themselves to sail, to navigate and read the weather. Without their mother's knowledge and long before she thought them old enough to sail outside the harbor, they were piloting their catboat all the way to the Isles of Shoals. They were on the return leg of one such excursion when the fickle weather of early spring took an abrupt turn and the sky darkened and the sun vanished and the wind came squalling off the open sea. They were a half mile from the harbor when the storm overtook them. The rain struck in a slashing torrent and the swells hove them so high they felt they might be sent flying--then dropped them into troughs so deep they could see nothing but walls of water the color of iron. They feared the sail would be ripped away. Samuel Thomas wrestled the tiller and John Roger bailed in a frenzy and both were wide-eyed with euphoric terror as time and again they were nearly capsized before at last making the harbor. When they got home and Mary Margaret saw their sodden state she scolded them for dunces and wondered aloud how they could do so well in their schooling when they didn't have sense enough to get out of the rain. ↗

— James Carlos Blake

#sailing #sea #home

Our Mother feedeth thus our little life, That we may in turn feed her with our death ↗

— James Thomson

#mother-nature #poetry #death