Kate Ryan

Motherhood is easily the toughest, most sacred job on earth. Without moms, the human race simply wouldn’t be here. But personally, I’d rather dangle myself from dental floss over a volcano full of spiders than push another human being out of my body.

12:48 AM. Why would someone schedule an exorcism for the middle of a weeknight?

My tights are cutting me in half at the waist . . . just like a sausage in its casing.

I have no choice but to start all over again, tomorrow or not at all.

“Don’t you smash that cake in my face, or I’ll never forgive you,” she said, and she never did, not really.

A bloated mother in her polka dot one-piece gnaws on a corndog while reading the romantic pulp she picked up on her way out of the supermarket . . .

Alison learned from her grandmother how a plastic smile could take you places—especially in a place like Hollywood.

Sheila applied widely and on a whim. She needed a job and she needed one fast.

His mind rode the lines, circling on an endless loop to nowhere as he attempted to go about his activities.

She couldn’t imagine the water she sat in, the water that enveloped her body, wanted to be here.