If I Raised My Hand To Wipe

Most Mothers Entering The Labor Market Outside The Home Are Naive. They Stagger Home Each Evening, Holding Mail In Their Teeth, The Cleaning Over Their Arm, A Lamb Chop Defrosting Under Each Armpit, Balancing Two Gallons Of Frozen Milk Between Their Knees, And Expect One Of The Kids To Get The Door.

Remember, You Can Lead A Fifty-seven-year-old Body To Motherhood, But You Can't Make It Stay Awake.

The Family. We Are A Strange Little Band Of Characters Trudging Through Life Sharing Diseases And Toothpaste, Coveting One Another's Desserts, Hiding Shampoo, Borrowing Money, Locking Each Other Out Of Our Rooms. . . And Trying To Figure Out The Common Thread That Bound Us All Together.

Why Would Anyone Steal A Shopping Cart? It's Like Stealing A Two-year-old.

Laugh Now, Cry Later.