Quotes About Parenting

I told my Rebel daughter that I would tuck her in 'in five minutes.' She responded, 'How about four?

How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is To have a thankless child.

It seems to me, alas, that if you can so thoroughly dissect your children who are still to be born, you don't get horny enough to actually to father them.

She hoped for a son; he would be strong and dark; she would call him George; and this idea of having a male child was like an expected revenge for all her impotence in the past. A man, at least, is free; he may travel over passions and over countries, overcome obstacles, taste of the most far-away pleasures. But a woman is always hampered.

Our fathers were both rude and bold, And would not live like brothers; But we are of a finer mould - We're much more like our mothers!

In the beginning, his holding could calm the babies, but soon they wanted more motion and wouldn't allow their father to sit down, so Lin had to pace back and forth to stop them from crying......At times he was so miserable that he felt like crying together with his sons, but he controlled himself.

Vitur maður hefur sagt að næst því að missa móður sína sé fátt hollara úngum börnum en missa föður sinn.

If we can relax when our strong emotions come, then we don't pass fear on to our children and to future generations.

Maybe you never stop feeling like an eight-year-old in front of your parents. You resolve to be your mature self, to react in this considered way rather than that elemental way, to breathe evenly from the bottom of your stomach and to see your parents as equals, but within five minutes your intentions are blown to hell, and you're babbling and screaming in rage like an angry child.

Sometimes he'd get home before the children were asleep, and carry them around on his back, kick balls with them, and tell them stories of pigs with spiders on their heads. Other times he would turn up late so he could have his wife make supper, and be free of the feeling that the kids were devouring his life.

Kids don't come with instructions. We all mess up. Raising a child is pure impromptu.

God, she loved this kid. Wendy had one of those waves, the ones that sneak up on parents and crush them and make them just want to wrap their arms around their kid and never let him go.

Feeding teenage boys was like filling a bathtub with a grapefruit spoon.

It was true what they said: The older you become, the more you are like your parents. Soon he'd be telling a kid not to stick his elbow out the car window or he'd lose it.

Maya had one of those sudden "pow" moments sneak up on her, the ones all parents experience, when you are simply overwhelmed by your love for your child, when you are awestruck and you can feel something rising inside of you and you just want to hold onto it and yet, at the same time, that caring, that fear of losing this person, scares you into near paralysis. How, you wonder, will you ever relax again, knowing how unsafe the world is? Lily

I kept glancing at her animated face, scrunched up as though imitating an adult. I got hit with that overwhelming feeling. It sneaked up on me. Parents get it from time to time. You are looking at your child and it is an ordinary moment, not like they are onstage or hitting a winning shop, just sitting there, and you look at them and you know that they are your whole life and that moves you and scares you and makes you want to stop time.

I look at the helpless bundle in the crib and she looks up at me and I wonder what I would not do to protect her. I would lay down my life in a second. And truth be told, if push came to shove, I would lay down yours too.

I can only be as happy as my saddest child. Do

They think my male helplessness is cute. When a single mother does any of those things, she is neglectful and on the receiving end of the superior moms' scorn.

Kids don't come with instruction manuals," and you quickly learn that your child comes to you hardwired, that in the battle of nature vs nurture, nature kicks complete and total ass—still, when things go wrong, when something this dark invades your child's soul, you can only wonder where the hell you went wrong.

Two floors below them were the geneticists. One of them told Mike that in random population tests, more than ten percent of men were raising children that, unbeknownst to them, weren't biologically theirs. "Any

Where's Vickie?" Vickie was Cora's daughter. "She's spending the night at the McMansion with my ex and his horse-faced wife. Or as I prefer to put it, she's spending the night in the bunker with Adolf and Eva." Grace

He and his friends weren't heavily into the dope scene, but he had hung out at his buddy Weed's house—clue for parents: If your kid is nicknamed "Weed," it probably has little to do with legitimate gardening—when his folks were out of town. Mike

Ali's daughter, Erin, was matriculating at Arizona State. Ali, Erin, and Jack were flying out for the week to get the freshman settled.