she

My mom, through my dad, rented the apartment next door to his... he had the lease on both places. But then, she would dress up and act like his maid... a practical maid. No fantasies.

My mom was a saint. She taught me to be terminally nice.

Mom worked as a school librarian, and she felt summers were for education.

My mom never wanted to be a grandmom. She never wanted to be a mom, really.

I'm a really bad liar. My mom finds out every time, especially now that she's got Facebook.

My mom is still yelling at me because she needs more autographed pictures.

Sometimes, it's hard to separate manager mode from mom mode. I think, as our manager, my mom will get more emotional about situations than she would if she was just our manager.

My mom is very confident and she was always a role model of mine.

I skated and rode bikes on ramps, and my mom was always super supportive. She was one of the only divorced moms in the neighborhood, so all the other parents looked down upon her for letting her kids do that kind of thing.

My mom was essentially a single mother raising three boys. If anyone could have had any reason to give up, it was her. But she didn't, and neither did we.

When I go home, I still have to clean my room; I still have to do the dishes. We have somebody come every now and then to do that stuff, but my mom still makes me clean before she comes.

My mom, if you asked her if she was interested in whether or not people gambled, would say no.

I'm not bothered by the idea of getting old, or I guess you could say by having arrived at old. I was 10 when my mom turned 55. For 1955, she was a very old mom.

My mom was very strict. She didn't let me watch anything rated R or anything with cussing.

My mom grew up in the Soviet Bloc, and she was a Tiger Mom. We didn't get away with much.

My mom had Julia Child and 'The Fannie Farmer Cookbook' on top of the refrigerator, and she had a small repertoire of French dishes.

My mom would have different fragrances for different times of the year. They were a part of her identity. I don't remember the specific ones she used, but I remember the bottles.

At 13, I was wearing plain t-shirts. Then I used to steal my mom's clothing. She had all these crushed-velvet shirts with French-cut sleeves. And, like, seersucker bell-bottoms.