Fighter Mom Quotes

Rule number one of anime," Simon said. He sat propped up against a pile of pillows at the foot of his bed, a bag of potato chips in one hand and the TV remote in the other. He was wearing a black T-shirt that said I BLOGGED YOUR MOM and a pair of jeans with a hole ripped in one knee. "Never screw with a blind monk." "I know," Clary said, taking a potato chip and dunking it into the can of dip balanced on the TV tray between them. "For some reason they're always way better fighters than monks who can see." She peered at the screen. "Are those guys dancing?" "That's not dancing. They're trying to kill each other. This is the guy who's the mortal enemy of the other guy, remember? He killed his dad. Why would they be dancing?

I didn’t want it to look like I was running away. I don’t want him to think he broke me.” “I hear you. But leaving doesn’t always mean you’re running away. Sometimes you have to regroup before you go back and fight another battle.” “There won’t be another battle. I already lost the war.” And my best friend. “Don’t be so sure. You’re a fighter like your mom. Don’t let a pathetic excuse for a boy change that.

Grandson: Were you in the war, Grandpa? Grandpa: Yes, I was a fighter pilot. Kid’s mom: Weren’t you stationed in Illinois, Dad? Grandpa: Yes, and I’ll have you know not one enemy aircraft got passed Missouri! Good

Yeah, it's a souvenir from my very first XWL win. Vicious headlock, but I managed. The fighter ears definitely bring down my stock. It’s a bitch, for sure. I constantly have to drain fluid from them with a syringe.” “That’s disgusting, Tyler.” This, from my nana, who has a green, double-headed dildo on her nightstand. My mom still thinks it’s a decorative cactus.

She comes from fighters—her mom can drive a stick shift, smoke a cigarette, drink a soda, put on mascara, and deliver a smack to every member of the family without taking her eyes off the highway.

We had a very Tom and Jerry relationship, me and my mom. She was the strict disciplinarian; I was naughty as shit. She would send me out to buy groceries, and I wouldn’t come right home because I’d be using the change from the milk and bread to play arcade games at the supermarket. I loved videogames. I was a master at Street Fighter. I could go forever on a single play. I’d drop a coin in, time would fly, and the next thing I knew there’d be a woman behind me with a belt. It was

There are no words for this. But he stays right there, my last bit of warmth in a world turning to dust. I weep for tham all. Farley, Tristan, Walsh, Will. Shade, Bree, Tramy, Gisa, Mom, and Dad. Fighters, all of them. And Kilorn. I couldn't save him, no matter how hard I tried. I can't even save myself. At least I have my earrings. The little specks, sharp in my skin, will stay with me until the end. I die with them, and they with me.

If you could design a new structure for Camp Half-Blood what would it be? Annabeth: I’m glad you asked. We seriously need a temple. Here we are, children of the Greek gods, and we don’t even have a monument to our parents. I’d put it on the hill just south of Half-Blood Hill, and I’d design it so that every morning the rising sun would shine through its windows and make a different god’s emblem on the floor: like one day an eagle, the next an owl. It would have statues for all the gods, of course, and golden braziers for burnt offerings. I’d design it with perfect acoustics, like Carnegie Hall, so we could have lyre and reed pipe concerts there. I could go on and on, but you probably get the idea. Chiron says we’d have to sell four million truckloads of strawberries to pay for a project like that, but I think it would be worth it. Aside from your mom, who do you think is the wisest god or goddess on the Olympian Council? Annabeth: Wow, let me think . . . um. The thing is, the Olympians aren’t exactly known for wisdom, and I mean that with the greatest possible respect. Zeus is wise in his own way. I mean he’s kept the family together for four thousand years, and that’s not easy. Hermes is clever. He even fooled Apollo once by stealing his cattle, and Apollo is no slouch. I’ve always admired Artemis, too. She doesn’t compromise her beliefs. She just does her own thing and doesn’t spend a lot of time arguing with the other gods on the council. She spends more time in the mortal world than most gods, too, so she understands what’s going on. She doesn’t understand guys, though. I guess nobody’s perfect. Of all your Camp Half-Blood friends, who would you most like to have with you in battle? Annabeth: Oh, Percy. No contest. I mean, sure he can be annoying, but he’s dependable. He’s brave and he’s a good fighter. Normally, as long as I’m telling him what to do, he wins in a fight. You’ve been known to call Percy “Seaweed Brain” from time to time. What’s his most annoying quality? Annabeth: Well, I don’t call him that because he’s so bright, do I? I mean he’s not dumb. He’s actually pretty intelligent, but he acts so dumb sometimes. I wonder if he does it just to annoy me. The guy has a lot going for him. He’s courageous. He’s got a sense of humor. He’s good-looking, but don’t you dare tell him I said that. Where was I? Oh yeah, so he’s got a lot going for him, but he’s so . . . obtuse. That’s the word. I mean he doesn’t see really obvious stuff, like the way people feel, even when you’re giving him hints, and being totally blatant. What? No, I’m not talking about anyone or anything in particular! I’m just making a general statement. Why does everyone always think . . . agh! Forget it. Interview with GROVER UNDERWOOD, Satyr What’s your favorite song to play on the reed pipes?

She’s a single mother with three daughters, but it’s this seventeen-year-old boy who worries her more than anything. A boy who cares too little about the future and frets too much about the past: nothing could depress a mother more. Her little Benjamin, the fighter with whom it’s far too easy for the girls of Beartown to fall in love. The boy with the most handsome face, the saddest eyes, and the wildest heart they’ve ever seen. His mom knows, because she married a man who looked just the same, and nothing but trouble lies ahead for men like that. *

My mom’s funeral was pathetic. She had saved up some money for a plot in Linden, New Jersey. There were only eight of us there – me, my brother and sister, my father Jimmy, her boyfriend Eddie, and three of my mother’s friends. I wore a suit that I had bought with some of the money that I had stolen. She only had a thin cardboard casket and there wasn’t enough money for a headstone. Before we left the grave, I said, “Mom, I promise I’m going to be a good guy. I’m going to be the best fighter ever and everybody is going to know my name. When they think of Tyson, they’re not going to think of Tyson Foods or Cicely Tyson, they’re going to think of Mike Tyson.” I said this to her because this was what Cus had been telling me about the Tyson name. Up until then, our family’s only claim to fame was that we shared the same last name as Cicely. My mom loved Cicely Tyson.

Dear Natasha, if you are reading this, it means something has happened to your dad and me, and I am so sorry that I left you alone, baby, and I really hope you are happy. Happy Fourteenth Birthday, sweetheart. Everything you need to know is in the diaries and if you have any questions, I hope Mark and Anna will be able to answer them. I never meant to leave you like this, but your Dad and I made some very stupid and impulsive decisions and put your life in danger. I hope once you realize why we did what we did, you will forgive us. The world you are going to be exposed to is scary and I hope my diaries and weapons will help you navigate through the labyrinths of obstacles that you will face. They will find you soon, and when they do, remember to make smart and thoughtful decisions—decisions that will depend on your knowledge and wisdom and not feelings or family. Always remember that Luna, we and he are always looking out for you. Remember that I love you and I never meant to do what I did. I am sorry. And if you find him, please take care of each other. Love, Mom

Dear Natasha, if you are reading this, it means something has happened to your dad and me, and I am so sorry that I left you alone, baby, and I really hope you are happy. Happy Fourteenth Birthday, sweetheart. Everything you need to know is in the diaries and if you have any questions, I hope Mark and Anna will be able to answer them. I never meant to leave you like this, but your Dad and I made some very stupid and impulsive decisions and put your life in danger. I hope once you realize why we did 8 what we did, you will forgive us. The world you are going to be exposed to is scary and I hope my diaries and weapons will help you navigate through the labyrinths of obstacles that you will face. They will find you soon, and when they do, remember to make smart and thoughtful decisions—decisions that will depend on your knowledge and wisdom and not feelings or family. Always remember that Luna, we and he are always looking out for you. Remember that I love you and I never meant to do what I did. I am sorry. And if you find him, please take care of each other. Love, Mom

As we were getting Mia’s things ready for her discharge, her nurse started to excuse herself to get a wheelchair to transport Mia to the car. Instantly, Mia said, “I’m not riding in a wheelchair.” “Yes, you are, Mia. It’s a hospital regulation,” I said, believing that was true. “Mom,” she protested, “they said I’m supposed to walk as much as possible. I’m walking to the car.” I saw a certain look in Mia’s eyes as she made this announcement, the look that says “I am going to push hard for this.” I knew she was determined, and I would fight a losing battle to try to talk her out of it. “I’m walking out of here,” she said again. I guess the medical staff noticed that look too because they allowed her to try to walk, with a nurse close beside her. Seeing that little girl limp her way down the hall, holding Reed’s hand, was one of the proudest moments of my life. I was absolutely amazed by her spunk and determination. I grabbed my cell phone from my purse and snapped a picture. She is such a fighter, I thought as Jase and I followed her. Visually, she looked roughed up, as though she had been through about fifteen rounds in a boxing match. But in that moment, she showed a level of toughness and resilience I have never seen in a child. Remembering the information we were told on that first visit to ICI when Mia was seventeen days old, that she would need physical therapy to help her walk again after this surgery, I thanked God as I watched our daughter walk right out of the hospital twenty-four hours postoperation! When we got into the car, Jase asked Mia, “Well, what do you think about that?” “I’m a little tired, but I made it,” she replied. Indeed she did.

We’ve all heard that if you end up with two or three people in this category, consider yourself blessed, which is a word. The besties are an important subgroup and everyone ain’t that. The True Blues are the people who know where all the bodies are buried, because they were probably right there with the shovel next to us. We can be our truest selves with them, without pretense or angst. They’ve seen us at our worst but hold space for us to make it back to our best selves. They will fight for us, even without our permission. They will come to our house and open our fridge like they live there. Your mom probably asks you how they’re doing once a month, and sometimes she doesn’t because they’ve called her already. The inside jokes are aplenty, and they’ve seen you in the morning when you still had eye crusties. Our True Blues aren’t automatically people we’ve known the longest. They are people who showed up somehow, at some point, and barreled their way into our hearts. We don’t know how to NOT trust them, because they’ve shown us over and over again that they are here to stay. Sometimes they’ll disappoint us and upset us, because we are all flawed. But friendship isn’t about perfection.

Division headquarters then located in the San Jose Armory, so I

Take care, Lillia. And have fun.” “Thanks, Mom. Have fun with your new fighter plane. And also—” “Yes?” “Whatever base you’re staying at, please try to get up on your own. Otherwise you’ll give a really hard time to the poor soul who has to wake you up.” “Ohh… All right, I’ll try. Have a good trip, Lillia.” Allison smiled, and planted a kiss on Lillia’s cheek. Lillia kissed her mother back. As Treize watched he suddenly found himself meeting Allison’s gaze. “Would you like one too, Treize?” Allison asked, reaching toward him. Lillia slapped down her hand. “Don’t bother, Mom.” “Hey, that’s not nice.” Treize grumbled. “Ask your own mom for a kiss.” Lillia snapped back. Then, she added in a softer tone, “As I wish, right?” Treize nodded, slightly. “Yeah.” “Hmm… Lillia, you should be the one giving Treize a kiss after all.” Lillia reacted instantly. “Denied!” “It’s going to be a long trip, you know. Plenty of time for at least one.” “Denied.” “There’s no need to be stingy.” “I said, denied.” “You keep saying so, but I bet you’re thinking to yourself that once might be all right? A mother knows what her children are thinking.” “Nope.” “Just do it when no one’s looking.” “That’s not the problem here.” “Just a quick one on the forehead.” “It’s not about where.” “It’s not like it’ll hurt.” “That’s not the problem, either.” “Or maybe you’re too shy when you’re sober?” “Mom, I’m a minor.” “…” Standing idly by the mother and daughter, Treize waited for their conversation to end.

I know I have these babies inside me that I have to be strong for, but I'm so tired of fighting and being strong. I was strong with my mom’s abuse, I was a fighter when I bounced back from Caesar and his perverted ways, but now my past and what they did is haunting me.

A Special Prayer For Mothers To all the Mothers Who stand for what is right They work so hard Never let the weather dictate How they love their children Always there whenever needed Do what is best for loved ones Yes, they guide leaders on how to reign Cry out to God to save future generations As they plead for true liberation A reliable source of inspiration Not ordinary humans But special women Whom we call Moms Fighters of hunger Seekers of wellbeing Promoters of longevity Providers of stability Pioneers of societies Pillars of many countries Teachers of morals and values We pray for their blessings And breakthroughs in all they do! This is our special prayer for Mothers

Trying my very best to avoid falling into a fatalistic mood. It's scary because there is so much information coming at us from dozens of sources we don't know who or what to believe. Yes, take precautions, but will this help? Live your life as usual, but will this help? Have faith, but will this help? I definitely don't have an answer and the ones that should, it seems don't know better either! What I do know is stressing over something completely out my control is futile. This fear of the little known is only heightening hysteria. Handle it the best way you know how but stop, take a breath, make a plan, roll with the changes and ride this out. It's already in motion. Now we just have to decide if the situation controls us or we control our response to it. I checked on my mom and Dad. Made sure they are ok and told them I love them. Dont let fear make you lose sight of who and what is important. When life gets rough all we have is each other. What would happen if the person you love was taken from you today? That is so much more worthy of your emotions than stressing over a sickness most people don't even understand yet. Stay safe friends and fam. Pray for us, and we'll pray for you. We'll get through this. It will be hard and we may come out battered and bruised, but we are fighters!!! Peace beautiful people.

Yes, actually. While my mom was pregnant with me, I kicked a lot. She said she had a fighter on her hands, so she named me after the country that fought so hard to keep this land together. It’s odd, but to her credit, she was right—we’ve been fighting ever since.