#mothers

There are lots of things sons shouldn’t imagine about their mothers, above all what it was like to become one. ↗

— Bauvard

#humor #imagination #mothers #sons #funny

Some are kissing mothers and some are scolding mothers, but it is love just the same, and most mothers kiss and scold together. ↗

— Pearl S. Buck

#kiss #kissing #love #most #mothers

There are now grandmothers and grandfathers coming to see us because they are of that age, they grew up in the '50s and '60s and they bring their sons and their daughters to hear the songs they heard when they were young. ↗

— George Thorogood

#because #bring #coming #daughters #grandfathers

I still loved Granny. It flowed out of my chest. With Granny gone, where would my love go? ↗

— Jessica Maria Tuccelli

#death-of-a-loved-one #grandmothers #granny #love #death

To the former child migrants, who came to Australia from a home far away, led to believe this land would be a new beginning, when only to find it was not a beginning, but an end, an end of innocence - we apologise and we are sorry. To the mothers who lost the maternal right to love and care for their child - we apologise, and we are sorry. ↗

— Malcolm Turnbull

#australia #away #beginning #believe #came

You just hang in there, boy, hang in with that apprenticeship of yours, do you hear me? You are lucky they would even take someone like you. You’re a child of the slums. A ragtag. On top of that, you’re a whining piece of shit. Nobody will ever do anything for you. Do you understand what I’m saying? They’ll let you starve to death, no problem. Nobody is going to cry on your grave.” Poul-Erik’s Mother The Informer by Steen Langstrup ↗

— Steen Langstrup

#mothers #noir-style #scandinavian-mysteries #death

My mother's death changed the alchemy of food. Holidays run together now like ungrooved rivers. I forget what they are for. I buy bakery goods. They look dead under the blue lights. I don't do anything the way she taught me but I get fat. I don't look like her and I don't sound like her, but I stand like her. ↗

— Florence Weinberger

#mothers #poetry #change

The Dieter's Daughter Mom's got this taco guy's poem taped to the fridge, some ode to celery, which she is always eating. The celery, I mean, not the poem which talks about green angels and fragile corsets. I don't get it, but Mom says by the time she reads it she forgets she's hungry. One stalk for breakfast, along with half a grapefruit, or a glass of aloe vera juice, you know that stuff that comes from cactus, and one stalk for lunch with some protein drink that tastes like dried placenta, did you know that they put cow placenta in make-up, face cream, stuff like that? Yuck. Well, Mom says it's never too early to wish you looked different, which means I got to eat that crap too. Mom says: your body is a temple, not the place all good twinkies go to. Mom says: that boys remember girls that're slender. Mom says that underneath all this fat there's a whole new me, one I'd really like if only I gave myself the chance. Mom says: you are what you eat, which is why she eats celery, because she wants to be thin, not green or stringy, of course-- am I talking too fast?-- but thin as paper like the hearts we cut out and send to ourselves, don't tell anyone, like the hearts of gold melons we eat down to the bitter rind. ↗

— Anita Endrezze

#mothers-and-daughters #patriarchy #poetry #women #diet

Gilbert put his arm about them. 'Oh, you mothers!' he said. 'You mothers! God knew what He was about when He made you. ↗

— L.M. Montgomery

#dreams

No one ever died from sleeping in an unmade bed. I have known mothers who remake the bed after their children do it because there is wrinkle in the spread or the blanket is on crooked. This is sick. ↗

— Erma Bombeck

#because #bed #blanket #children #crooked