I was feeling sorry for myself and so alone and then my phone rang. It was my mama.

No one can tell me she doesn't have some preternatural sense when one of her babies is hurting.

Since I can't hug her today, I'm going to tell you why--I'm sorry bu--my mama is THE best mama.

Imagine your teenage daughter tells you she's pregnant. This would be a shock. There would be questions that ran through your head.

Imagine if that daughter then told you, BTW, I am in labor.

(long story)

Not once ever has she held that against me.

I'm petty. I would.

Not once. She made sure I went to formal and prom, had a high school experience. She understood that even as a mother, I was still a child in so many ways.

And I was her child. Fight her about it.

When the first spark of writing lit within me, she didn't point out all the other productive things I should focus on, she bought me my first computer.

When my kids drove me up the wall and I was sure I couldn't do this mother thing, she gave me pep talk.

It consisted of, "Gurl, if you don't make them kids do chores and help around the house..."

The year before my DD graduated a monster was elected. All I could imagine is how much worst things would be for her.

I called my mother, hysterical and crying.

She soothed me and pretty much said NOT ON MY WATCH would my DD come to any harm. It was exactly what I needed to hear.

Again and again this woman has slain dragons for me and taught me to do the same for myself and for my kids.

She reaps petty joy for getting on my last nerve. She's mine and she's alive. I can't put into words how lucky I feel. I am sorry she's not your mama, just be jealous.

This woman I call the Woman of Many Knives is my mama. I love her with my everything.