Mom

I have always felt loved by my parents. I have never doubted it, and it's one of the things that has made for a happy life.

My mom will tell you that I was not an easy child, and that is true. She was a very young mom, and I was a rebellious kid. But she loved me and always supported me.

She put up with my pre-school temper tantrums. She got me a plastic clown punching bag on which I could take out my aggressions, which I promptly destroyed.

She put up with the call from the principal's office when I flipped off my fourth grade teacher behind her back and got ratted out by some goody-two-shoes classmate.

She put up with the embarrassing situation when I was in high school and wrote a story for the school newspaper filled with sexual innuendos, which caught the attention of local ministers and made the front page of the Durango Herald.

She stuck by me.

She attended all of my high school wrestling matches, most of which I seemed to win by 1 point in the closing seconds. Everyone in the stands knew she was my mom because of the shrieking. (My mom, you should know, is a little high-strung. She gets excited playing a game of marbles.)

She listened to me rant and rave about how I couldn't wait to get out of our small town and go off to make my mark in the big city. And she was there for me the day before I left for NYU, when I suddenly broke down and sobbed because I wasn't ready to leave. And it was like I was five again.

I love my own kids the way she loved me--unconditionally. And I've been truly blessed.

Thanks, Mom. Happy Mother's Day.