I'm a hopeless mother; a hopeless wife; I have to try harder. I'm just a pathetic case history, really.
In the trunk of her car, my mother used to keep a collapsible easel, a clutch of brushes, a little wooden case stocked with tubes of paint, and, tucked into the spare-tire well, one of my father's old, tobacco-stained shirts, for a smock.
The sharpest memory of our old-fashioned Christmas eve is my mother's hand making sure I was settled in bed.
You know, my mother's beautiful, my dad was a really handsome man, and there was a lot of talk about looks when I was growing up.
When my dad needed a shirt ironed, he would yell downstairs to my mother, who would drop everything and iron his shirt.
Instead of joyfully looking forward to my birth, my mother began systematically preparing for her own death. She was fatalistic.
And after my mother's death I became more open to and empathetic about other people's struggles and losses.
My mother was really my partner in every project that I had. She was just the great enabler of my dreams.
My mother enjoyed few things more than investing in the underdogs and showing them that they were special and could achieve their dreams.
My mother used to sit at the foot of my bed, and she would share her dreams with me.
I just thank my father and mother, my lucky stars, that I had the advantage of an education in the humanities.
As a former teacher and a mother and grandmother, I know firsthand the importance of a quality education.
My mother was a woman who was very frustrated. She had a great deal of ability, and all this energy went into me and my brother.
I think being a mother helps keep your feet on the ground. There's very little dignity in parenthood. It's a great leveller.
One of the great things about my mother is she really valued people's character more than what they did.
I obviously have a great love and appreciation of jewelry, thanks to my mother, much to the dismay of both my father and my boyfriends.
My father was a soldier and my mother was a great mover. She once counted up how many places she had lived in during the first 25 years of her marriage and it came to 20.
What greater aspiration and challenge are there for a mother than the hope of raising a great son or daughter?
My mother took great relish in introducing me as 'This is my son - he's a doctor but not the kind that helps people.'
Maybe with boxing and good focus, I can fix myself and make my mother proud.
I was reading William Shawcross's biography of the Queen Mother, dressed in my witch outfit! And you know what? It was a really good mix; it was a therapeutic mix.
