People often write me and ask how I keep my wood floors so clean when I live with a child and a dog, and my answer is that I use a technique called Suffering From a Mental Illness.
That’s the miracle of babies, their ability to lay bare the tender, beating hearts of raging assholes.
He can make me love something just by showing me the energy with which he loves it.
There are certain sacred things in my life that I would never talk about. Because they are clear in my head, I can walk freely around the opposite side. I keep them completely separate in my mind.
I have to live the content, then come back and write about it.
People think they have the right to judge everything that I do.
I usually approach things with the idea that I will take something out of everything I do.
Keep writing. Keep doing it and doing it. Even in the moments when it's so hurtful to think about writing.
This is part of the essence of motherhood, watching your kid grow into her own person and not being able to do anything about it. Otherwise children would be nothing more than pets.
That’s sort of a cliché about parents. We all believe that our children are the most beautiful children in the world. But the thing is, what no one really talks about is the fact that we all really believe it.