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Family life got better and we got our car back - as soon as we put 'I love Mom' on the license plate.
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With boys, you always know where you stand. Right in the path of a hurricane.
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What's with you men? Would hair stop growing on your chest if you asked directions somewhere?
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A grandmother pretends she doesn't know who you are on Halloween.
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Housework can kill you if done right.
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Housework, if it is done properly, can cause brain damage.
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Explain to me how he [her son] can ride a bicycle, run, play ball, set up a camp, swing, fight a war, swim and race for eight hours ... and has to be driven to the garbage can.
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My mind works . . . two boobs never get me a job.
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Mothers are not the nameless, faceless stereotypes who appear once a year on a greeting card with their virtues set to prose, but women who have been dealt a hand for life and play each card one at a time the best way they know how. No mother is all good or all bad, all laughing or all serious, all loving or all angry. Ambivalence rushes through their veins.
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Youngsters of the age of two and three are endowed with extraordinary strength. They can lift a dog twice their own weight and dump him into the bathtub.
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My type of humor is almost pure identification. A housewife reads my column and says, 'But that's happened to ME! I know just what she's talking about!
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I have finally mastered what to do with the second tennis ball. Having small hands, I was becoming terribly self-conscious about keeping it in a can in the car while I served the first one. I noted some women tucked the second ball just inside the elastic leg of their tennis panties. I tried, but found the space already occupied by a leg. Now, I simply drop the second ball down my cleavage, giving me a chest that often stuns my opponent throughout an entire set.
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Who in their infinite wisdom decreed that Little League uniforms be white? Certainly not a mother.
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What we're really talking about is a wonderful day set aside on the fourth Thursday of November when no one diets. I mean, why else would they call it Thanksgiving?
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Once you get a spice in your home, you have it forever. Women never throw out spices. The Egyptians were buried with their spices. I know which one I'm taking with me when I go.
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I read one psychologist's theory that said, "Never strike a child in your anger." When could I strike him? When he is kissing me on my birthday? When he's recuperating from measles? Do I slap the Bible out of his hand on Sunday?
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Hello there. I'm out social climbing, but if you leave your name and number and if you're anybody, I'll get back to you.
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I take a very practical view of raising children. I put a sign in each of their rooms: 'Checkout Time is 18 years.'
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There is only one thing harder in this world than forgiving. It's to ask forgiveness armed only with, 'I'm sorry'.
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A kitchen without an ironing board? Are you kidding? It's un-American. It's like Simon without Garfunkel.
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Women are never what they seem to be. There is the woman you see and there is the woman who is hidden. Buy the gift for the woman who is hidden.
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You always hear about fashion's success stories. How a starlet lost an earring one night and by the next morning, the entire country was wearing one earring. Or how sweaters made a comeback in a drugstore, or a First Lady influenced how we dressed during her reign. But what about the losers? The fashions that came and went out the same day? The hopes and dreams of designers that were shattered by the sound of fifty million women ... laughing themselves to death.
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He who laughs.....lasts.
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A grandparent is the only baby-sitter who doesn't charge more after midnight - or anything before midnight.