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On this, Mom's 48th Mother's Day, no more macaroni necklaces or scrawled construction paper cards. Lots of flowers and a nice dinner, and this, a bow to everything Mom's taught me. Yes, you are right most of the time, and see, I have been listening, and learning. And thank you.

Here's Mom and Dad on their wedding day, Dec. 3, 1960. They forgot to confirm with the priest so they got a surly stand-in instead. But the bride was radiant and the festivities grand.

Mom on marriage:
1. Work to be an equal partner in everything, from housework to the finances.
2. Trust your husband but trust your instincts too.
3. Don't be a doormat.
4. If all else fails, laugh.

Okay, okay, I've read the books. Seen the movie. (Only once though!) And yes, I'm on board.

My niece Lauren was the one who started reading Stephenie Meyer's "Twilight" series of books way back in 2005. Shortly after, she couldn't wait for each book to come out and she started saving pictures of this Rob Pattinson dude on the computer with the titles "Beautiful" and "Perfect."

I chalked it up to a great book and a great choice of a leading man. Hey, I remember getting all excited about the Sweet Dreams books when I was Lauren's age. She told me "Twilight" is a vampire love story (and a bit about werewolves too). O-kay.

I met Patti Patton-Bader three years ago when I wrote a story about her Soldiers' Angels support group for soldiers and their families. Then, as now, she was a whirlwind of energy, inspiring many to fulfill the charity's mission that "no soldier go unloved." During the course of our interview, Patti was on the phone, assuring a soldier's wife of help; hugging a volunteer; and talking passionately about men and women in service.

From her Pasadena home, she was an impressive picture of what a woman, what a mom, can do. Even though she suffers from hepatitis C and liver problems, she is always cheerful whenever I call her for yet another story about how Soldiers' Angels is helping out.

Patti started her mission when her son Brandon was deployed to Iraq in 2003 and he started sharing the care packages she regularly sent with soldiers who never got any. Soldiers Angels is now one of the biggest, all-volunteer military support group in the country, with more than 200,000 soldiers, sailors, Marines and airmen adopted by Americans.

 Now Brandon is nominating her to be "America's Favorite Mom." Go here for more info.

Deciding to have a second child was easy. We knew we wanted to at least two, and thank God we didn't have any problems getting pregnant. I didn't have time to think about PPD this round because I was too busy with all the indignities of pregnancy: (we are going to get graphic here!) You've got all-day nausea, carpal tunnel, constipation, hemorrhoids, oooh, gas, and water retention. The glow of pregnancy? Puh-lease!

There were good days, mind you. My body knew what to do, which was nice, but also meant I felt more aches and pains. "Didn't anyone tell you the discomforts increase with each child?" a nurse asked me. Uh, too late for that.

In my eighth month, I started talking to my midwife about PPD. If you had PPD with your first baby, chances are you'll get it again and get it worse with No. 2. Thank goodness she took me seriously. We agreed that at the first sign, I would call her, and we would skip the Talk-to-the-Mental-Health-Person stage and go straight to meds.

I DID try the anti-anxiety breathing exercises the psych lady gave me. I was already eating as healthy as I'd ever been, steering clear of caffeine because I was nursing, napping when Joseph did, but my PPD didn't go away.

When my midwife called to check in, I told her nothing was helping. That's when she got on the horn and got me my meds. Ahh, salvation, thy name is Serax. I got the smallest dose, 10 mg. and could take it twice a day max. It was safe for breastfeeding and the best part was I could take it at the first sign of an attack and it would work within minutes. I started feeling stronger. I could enjoy being a new mom, finally.

PPD for me was so tied to my hormones no amount of yoga or herbal teas could change it. It was real and it was so chemical and could only be helped by medication. Did I get hooked? Not at all. Because I started taking it months after I suffered the first PPD symptom, I was only on meds for about two or three months before I felt well enough to stop taking it.

I was back. And happy. And grateful. PPD was behind me and I did all I could to talk to new moms I met, telling them not to be ashamed if they felt this or that, to be assertive with their doctors and get help. The farther away my last episode was, the more I could talk about it.

It would be three years before all my hard-earned knowledge would be tested.

I got to the Kaiser mental health office in Baldwin Park OK. That was miracle enough. That I had gotten dressed, put on a pair of matching shoes was another. But I knew my blotchy face told tales. I couldn't even stop crying in the waiting room, which thankfully was almost empty. And the other two people there, one stocky man, and an older woman, didn't look the least interested in my sniffling, ragged self.

The psychiatrist who met with me for a good, oh, 10 minutes? also told me all I had were the baby blues. "It'll go away in two weeks," she assured me. When I informed her that I had been having anxiety attacks and crying jags every day, she said, "Hold on for two more weeks."

"If all of this is hormonal, couldn't you give me something to balance me out?" I asked.

"By the time we get clearance for a prescription, you'll be over it," she said, ever so kindly. "Meanwhile, try to breath when you start to cry. I notice you're hyperventilating."

Brilliant.

I haven't read Brooke Shields' book about her whirl with postpartum depression. Don't need to. I, and my sainted Hubby, lived through it. Twice.

The first thing I need to tell you about it is: It's real.

It's been YEARS since I've even been remotely interested in the Oscars. But tonight, during my niece's 6th birthday party (yet another social shindig in our ever-so-partified family life), I was able to catch most of the show. I even distracted my 3-year-old with a piece of Werther's candy when I wanted to hear the complete song from "Enchanted" and threw him another piece during the Coen brothers' speech. (Fun-ny!) Not that I'm giving my son cavities, their whole short but sweet spiel and "Kissinger: Man on the Go" thing.