One day, my ten-year-old brother stormed into the house, hands balled into fists, face flushed in anger over yet another wrong doing by the neighborhood bully and sputtered, "Them F #$#! Them F #$# !" Of course, my mother who was in the kitchen was shocked by her oldest son's behavior. Her gasp should have given him a clue, but he just kept spewing that now infamous family line, "Them F #$#! Them F#$#!" Resolved to correct his inappropriate behavior, Mom leaned down with butcher knife still clenched and very calmly screeched, "It's THOSE F #$#! THOSE F #$#!"

Did I mention that my mother's an English teacher?

A mother's reach is far and wide (my brothers learned to duck and weave early), and a mother's skills probably develops during pregnancy. Either that or there was a class with a private room where they pulled soon-to-be mothers aside to poke holes in the back of their heads and teach them " Motherisms 101" complete with a wooden spoon scepter as a graduation gift. I haven't quite figured out if it's nature or a conspiracy.

Of course, we've all been victim to the standard phrases and tidbits all mothers use such as, "Don't make me get off this couch!" and "I know you weren't born in a barn; shut that door!"

Then there's, "If so and so jumped off a cliff..." All together now: "would you jump too?" Or, "Do I look like a bank?" (Insert a slap upside the head when offering that stupid teenager face in response to her question.)

I can't leave out the universal, "Life's not fair!" or, my personal favorite, "Do I look like I have stupid tattooed across my forehead?" In case you were wondering, don't answer that one under any circumstance because, trust me, you won't even see the ugliness coming.

With five children of her own, and six nieces/nephews living three doors over, my mother had the mother act down to a science and knew just how to use her wisdom to her advantage. In other words, she's a pro. Not only did she fall back on the basics, but also created her own unique bits of advice for our benefit and growth. These are just a few of her special "motherisms" that I've taken to heart, used on my own child and have even thrown back at good old mom much to her angst and delight.

The boy did a good job, but he did the job well. I mentioned that my mother is an English teacher, so that means that I not only understand the difference between "good" and "well" and "them" vs. "those," but I also know the difference between "who" and "whom" and where the commas go and why they actually go there. Sick but true.

You can't date until you're asked. No, age limit, no restrictions on the boys ... I wasn't asked until I was 17 years old. Clearly, my mother knew something I didn't, but I'm afraid to inquire as to what that was exactly.

You can't buy that swimsuit if you won't even come out of the dressing room. Nope, if you can't wear it in a public area of the department store, then you can't wear it on the beach. Makes sense, actually. I hated when Mom made sense.

If you have to give up breathing when you sit in those jeans, they're too tight. While this one is self-explanatory, it didn't stop any of us from doing the famous '70's lay on the bed to zip them up with a pair of pliers suck-it-in and wiggle dance.

If I see underwear when you sit, that skirt is too short. I had my own version of this motherism with my daughter: Pick what you want, but if I see boobs or butt, it's vetoed. Yes, as a mother, I maintained veto power in all clothing decisions at all times. Mom was so proud!

All women need a power bra. Yep, I used that one too. The red, lacey push-up bra makes a woman stand taller and have more confidence in difficult situations. Telling the " THOSE F #$@! " story to the world? Power bra!

Learn good old-fashioned Catholic, Italian guilt ... it'll come in handy one day. Oh, and did it ever! That special saying backfired on dear old Mom one fine afternoon when I was arguing with my sister-in-law over who would get a certain piece of jewelry Mom brought back fromSpain.

I pulled out the big guns.

With hand over heart and sincerity in my voice, I said, "Mom, I'm the only child that looks like you (my brothers and sister are blond with blue eyes just like dad), I was your only child to graduate high school with honors, I gave birth to your first grandchild, I went to school and studied English just like you and now I, your middle child ...your blood ...write poetry (this is where I hung my head with humility for effect)." My sister-in-law tried, but she didn't have a prayer ... amateur. That bracelet is quite stunning on me if I do say so myself.

Yep, Mom learned me good. I, too, went into that secret room (this is where I found out for sure that nature has nothing to do with it ... it's a conspiracy) and had holes poked into the back of my head and came up with a few of my own "motherisms" after mybeautiful, head-strong, witty and unafraid of anything daughter was born. In the early years, it was: I can find a corner in a round room! When she got too big to care about time-out, I frequently resorted to: Well, I have to give you something to tell your therapist.

What else is a mother to do in modern times when the wooden spoon is outlawed?