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I love Mother's Day. So many wonderful memories are attached to it. The gifts and special treatment are always such fun.

Starting when the kids were very small, the little greeting cards made with bits of colored yarn, ribbons, and pictures from magazines became treasured keepsakes. Necklaces made with macaroni and mommy's shoes shined (once with Vaseline) made the day special. Daddy, who didn't remember my size or color preferences, often bought something that didn't fit and had to be returned.

Breakfast in bed for mommy was so sweet. The pancakes burned, the coffee was cold, and the fresh-squeezed juice had pits but who cared. The flower in the bud vase on the tray was a dandelion or made of tissues. (I never told my family but I absolutely hate eating in bed. It makes me feel like I'm in a hospital.)

In those days, I had a mother and a mother-in-law who lived within driving distance. It was wonderful to visit both of them in one day and bring something totally frivolous they'd never buy for themselves. Visiting my grandmothers during that weekend gave them such delight that it didn't matter what gifts we brought. They let us know that we were the gifts they lived for.

One of my favorite Mother's Day gifts came when my kids were small. We were a family of five and washing dishes was a big job at night, especially so on holidays. A built-in dishwasher was a luxury we couldn't afford. My sister-in-law was moving to a new house with a dishwasher already installed. Her old, portable dishwasher was for sale. My husband bought it for me for Mother's Day. It had wheels and a Formica top that could be used as an extra counter. You rolled it up to the sink, screwed the hose to the kitchen faucet and then you plugged it into the electrical socket. It leaked from day one and made a racket but no gift could have pleased me more.

The very best Mother's Day gift I ever got was not purchased. I already had a son when my daughter was born on a Mother's Day. She, the beautiful little girl with blue eyes and red hair, was the ultimate gift. Things were so chaotic that day that my husband completely forgot that it was Mother's Day.

Today, there are new ways of celebrating Mother's Day. People make donations to charities and environmental organizations in honor of their mothers. Hallmark and other greeting card companies suggest to us that we also honor other women who are special in our lives, nurturers who are like mothers to us, such as a friend, relative, or teacher who has been instrumental in shaping our lives or helping us in meaningful ways. A few of the women who have been special to me are my aunt Cynthia who was especially kind to me when my parents died, and Joan, a friend who is now bedridden and far away but helped me out when I was in trouble.

When this Mother's Day comes, my mother will not be here. She's been gone for some years now, but as this special day approaches, she's on my mind a lot. I've been thinking about her influence on me. She was not an outgoing or demonstrative person. Ladylike and soft-spoken, she was utterly devoted to her family -- her husband, children, grandchildren, and parents.

She was the only daughter in her family with seven brothers. Forever on call to help my grandparents, my mother could never hold a job until my younger brother married. At that time, she got a job in the fitting room of a major department store where she was trained to spot shoplifters. She astonished our whole family by winning awards for catching shoplifters. My quiet little mother was very good at that.

I know now that I learned a lot from her even though she did not lecture or instruct. She taught me manners and how to be a lady. From her, I learned needlework of all kinds, which has given me great pleasure all my life. She was a great hostess and always set a beautiful table laden with an abundance of fine food. Her tastes were refined in every way though she had little money. Her dishes, silverware, and jewelry, which I still have, are delicate and beautiful, just as she was.

When she was at home and my father worked, she'd always stop her work an hour before his arrival to change her clothes, clean up, comb her hair, and put on make-up. She and my father never fought when I was around so that when I married and had a fight with my husband, I thought the world had come to an end. When I told her this, she laughed.

"Oh, we fight, too," she said. "Just not when anyone can hear. It's private."

She gave me some good marital advice: "If you have a fight with your husband, don't come running home to me. Stay there and fight it out!"

My mother's life with my father was a wonderful model for any girl to follow.

Toby Rosenstrauch, an award-winning columnist, lives in Boynton Beach, Fla.