FOR MUCH of my younger life, I was lucky enough to have a loving father and then, in later years, a wonderful stepfather.

In between were years when my mom raised my sister and me on her own.

Though she probably thought we never noticed, my sister and I occasionally did look beyond our youthful self-obsession to see the toll she paid as a single parent.

We saw the strain of feeding, clothing and housing two children on what a first-grade teacher made back then.

We sensed, but probably never quite understood, the yearning for more frequent conversation with another adult.

And we remember hearing, on a few rare occasions, the muffled sound of crying from her bedroom as she tried to cope with the fact that my dad died so young.

I bring all this up on this Mother's Day of 2007 not to be dramatic, but to give credit to the many single mothers--and dads, for that matter--who do an amazing job creating lives for their children.

As I look back on the childhood my mother provided for my sister and me, yes, there were sad moments.

You can't lose a parent before age 10 and have nothing but blue skies.

But aside from that, my tomboy sister and I never felt that we didn't have the same bonds of family support all our pals in the neighborhood had.

That's partly because, as is the case for many single parents, friends, family and neighbors were always around to help.

I still have a little wooden car on my dresser that reminds me of a hurdle crossed when I was growing up.

It was one of those projects you made in the Cub Scouts, to race against all the other kids in your pack.

Without a man in the house or even the appropriate tools, I was lucky enough to have a neighbor who basically did everything but paint the little car.

Yes, I felt a little awkward about it all.

But I took a lesson away from it: If you don't know what you're doing, you can usually find somebody to help.