Eliana Osborn

I cried every single day of my life until I was 18 years old. I did not know this was abnormal.

1. Write a damn letter.

Don’t listen to horror stories about airplane tantrums. Listen to me while I let you in on the secret perks of seeing the world with kiddos.

My sister Liz is full of wisdom, like my favorite quote I’ve shared with practically everyone I know: “Every pair of underwear has two good sides.”

We take weekend turns. He does vacations and summers. Literally. He takes them away. It is great.

Now that I’m a mother, I’m much more sympathetic to a woman who just couldn’t take it anymore. Not saying I’d leave my kids in a parking lot and hope for the best . . . just saying that I can understand the impulse.

If you kill a tortoise, even on accident, you probably shouldn’t have children.

How do you love someone who continually does things to hurt himself? I’ve been holding a phone with my stoned, sobbing brother on the other end for nearly 20 years. I keep picking up the pieces, keep having my heart break, because he’s my brother.

My Life on the Road (or MLR) is not what I expected...the idea of not waiting for experience to come to you permeates the book.

If he were an a--hole to my kids, things would be easier. But he’s not. He’s good with them. He’s his best self. It makes me alternately happy and heartbroken.