Today is a day celebrated by many, disliked by others, and ignored or forgotten by a few. For the Owl, it is a day when I am reminded how incredibly fortunate I am to have the mom I do, and to continue to have her with me, as she hits a milestone of 80 years old this year.

Last night I wrote a whole long post about my mom. This morning I deleted it–anyone who knows my mom knows she is intensely private and she would not be happy with my waxing on and on about her awesomeness. She also would not be in favor of me using the word “awesomeness” as it is overused. Herein lies the issues with growing up and growing old with English-Master’s mom.

And so what am I to be grateful for today (besides my mom)?

I am grateful that 14 and a half years ago two baby boys came into my life, changing sleep patterns, anxiety and humor levels forever. And I remain grateful for Dr. Drucker, the surgeon who saved one’s life five weeks later, and for the pediatric ICU nurse Ileana who saved Lalo again two weeks after that. And along with a dark time in our lives when we almost lost Lalo, the light flowed in from those who came and saved us: my mom (again!) and dad, Norma, our first nanny who could not have loved those boys more if they were her own, my mother-in-law and grandmother-in-law, and my stepson and stepdaughter. I will never ever be able to put into words that gratitude–though I did try–I recently found four journals filled with the stories.

For no mom is a mom without help. There’s the neighbor who runs over to watch sleeping babies when your husband accidentally takes your infant’s passport to the airport instead of his own (the counter agent: “that’s really cute but not going to work”) and you have to zoom through the Miami night to get there in time. There are the two godmothers, Jenny and Susan, who would bring food to me while the twins clung to me and stole all that I had–the mothers who knew that there was the other side when food once again became your own. The godmothers who were always reachable by batphone and brought calm and laughter to moments that felt big.

Then there are the friends who tell you that your kids are nice and good when you’re not around–anyone who is or was a parent of teenagers will know what I mean. They talk back at home, can’t do a single chore because they’re tired…and yet, apparently, outside your house, they are actually okay. Who knew?

Last, but in no ways least, I feel so much gratitude to Mr. Owl, who puts up with a lot. An awesome amount of lot. There is no one I would rather spend life with, and eventually an empty nest.

My final gratitude is that I have four more years (at least) of two young men at home. Four more years of sneaking hugs from now somewhat-smelly soccer-uniformed boys. Four more years of laughing at fart jokes (those never grow old for boys, or apparently, me). Four more years. And then, like my beautiful stepchildren, they’re suddenly adults and gone yet still there and still wonderful–but now they are under full power in their own lives.

Happy Mother’s Day to the mothers, and to their supporters!