… on being named Emily:

“So, yeah.  About three years ago, my generation decided to, en masse, name their daughters Emily.  While flattering, these other Emilies are now approaching the obnoxious years where they get yelled at the mall by their parents.  A lot.  And Loudly.  This has been a trial for me.  ‘Emily, don’t lick the railing! Emily! Don’t kick your brother! Emily, your Godiva membership only gets you ONE chocolate a month! GO HOME!’ It’s hard to know which of those comments is directed at me. Needless to say, I’m glad to see my name falling in the rankings.”

… on being married to Frank:

“Before Frank married me, he was a simple man. He had like, maybe, three emotions. Hungry, tired, happy. Those were really good emotions for him.  I’d like to think that I taught him a depth and breadth of emotions that have enriched his life. He is now perplexed, confused, concerned, aggravated, elated, energized, demotivated, exhausted, really concerned, shocked, enraged, mystified and deeply, deeply concerned – and that’s just from opening up our monthly budget on Mint.com.  You should see what happens when he samples my cooking!”

… on being a mom:

“So, yeah. Kids. Man. First of all, if you can, have yours one at a time.  Frank and I thought twins were buy-one-get-one (BOGO!), but it appears, after three years of having twins, that it’s buy-one-buy-another (BOBA?). There are very few efficiencies to having twins.  There are actually so few efficiencies that I can’t really think of a single one.  Well, ok, here’s one: you get a TON of sleep deprivation all at once. Cuz, since you’re already up feeding one kid, you may as well feed another. So, you know, there’s that. Twins.  Good times, though.  Once they hit three, they turn on each other which has given Frank and I break. During that break, we decided to have a third child. Another girl. See me in ten years cuz it’s gonna be MAGIC around here when all the cycles line up.”

… more on being a mom:

“But, you know, seriously… I love it. I do. There is truly no other avenue of your life where hiding in your pantry while very quietly eating a cookie in the dark is both coping as well as playing. Our games of hide and seek go on for hours.”

… on being tall:

“Like most things in life, if you’re going to be tall, be FREAKING TALL. Don’t be kinda tall.  Like, 5’9″. That’s the worst.  I feel bad for people who are 5’9″ than I do for me (6’1″). When you’re 5’9″ you’re just tall enough to not be able to wear a lot of the pants, but not tall enough to get the tall clothes.  Sometimes clothes fit, sometimes they don’t.  And you’re not super model tall or basketball tall or volleyball tall.  You’re just tall enough that your girlfriends stick you in the back row for pictures, but all that anyone can see is your eyebrows. Bummer.”