My Mom’s the Best Because . . .

We deserve to be sent to bed with no decaf. Or get a major timeout in Dennis Rodman’s corner. Or have our TV privileges taken away (except when Marge Simpson is on, or any other classic TV mom).

What were we thinking when we limited readers to 50 words in describing the World’s Greatest Mom?

OK, OK, we apologize to the nearly 500 readers who responded to our request for submissions on the World’s Greatest Mom. Most wrote that it would be impossible to describe their mother within such constraints. Instead, people sent pages. And pages. From such places as Tokyo and jail. From newborns (written with the help of dads) to 80-year-olds.

We heard about moms who dress like clowns, moms who build pirate ships, moms who are angels in heaven.

Each was certain that her or his mother, sister or grandmother was the best; the most common reason cited was their mother’s “unconditional love.” Maybe they didn’t always use those words, but that was the upshot in a letter from Rebecca in Alhambra who left no last name:

“My grandmother bought me Froot Loops when we couldn’t afford meat,” she wrote, “because she understood that I was 10.”

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Here’s a sampling of others:

We’re only allowed 50 words and Dennis Rodman regularly commands 1,000 or more? My mom is everything Dennis Rodman is not. Consistent in manner and hair color, friendly, caring, warm, no tattoos (Mom, please verify), and finally, she loves me.

--KEN BERRY, Laguna Niguel

My mom makes sandwiches when I am thirsty, when I am hungry and when it is windy.

JEREMIAH ELLIS, 6

I’m home--going through her life’s possessions.

I must choose what I want to keep.

I sob and whisper, “I want to keep it all. I want my Mama.”

35 pounds she was last February.

“How are you, Mama?”

“Pretty good. Be better tomorrow.”

Never a complaint.

ROBERTA PEIGHTON, Bel-Air

My mom has great ideas. Once we made barrettes out of Cheetos. On April Fool’s Day, we sewed up the fly on Daddy’s boxers. Another time, we ate dinner in the bathtub! She says life’s too short, so you should have fun! I love her so much!

CAROLINE PARIS-BEHR, 7

Mom had the most beautiful hands. Those hands worked a farm field and later raised two children and cared for in-laws, one bedridden. They also playfully cracked an egg on my head! She’s gone now, but as a new mom myself, I know that she was the World’s Greatest Mom.

LYNN AKAMINE, Culver City

One thing I will always remember is when she won’t let me or my sisters get something, she will say, “I’m the witch mommy” in a funny voice. But I still love her.

CASEY N. ZWEIG, 10

My father died in 1926, leaving my mother at 34 with three children--8, 5 and 3. Mother rolled up her sleeves, opened a dress shop and raised us through the depths of the Great Depression. And put off remarrying until we were adults! She was truly a woman of valor.

JERRY COWLE, Pacific Palisades

My mother is . . .

A storyteller of morals and values,

A friend to confide and to trust,

An enemy when aggravated,

A leader when lost,

A soul that comforts a broken heart,

And she does more than housework around the house . . .

. . . She loves.

PAULINE PARK, 14

I’ll never forget the sixth day of the seven-day California AIDS ride. I . . . called mom and asked if she [would] whip up a meal. Three hours later we arrived at her doorstep and feasted on . . . home-cooked sopa de albondigas, Mexican rice, tortillas and guacamole.

THERESA LANDEROS, Santa Barbara

My mommy cares for me by keeping me clean. She gives to charity. She is a very good seamstress. She is very funny. She is very kind. She dances funny. She is like the moon to us because she is so bright.

AMY SCHMIDT, 7

Last year, I watched [Mom] hover over my father during a long critical illness, [before] the sudden illness and eventual death of my husband, David. . . . One day, she said . . .: “I wish Dad and I could trade places with David. We had our Golden Years. Yours are just beginning.”

LINDA J. CHURCH, Fullerton

Mom, these are a few of my favorite things . . . peanut butter on celery, love notes on napkins in brown bag lunches, rainy days in front of the fireplace, little gifts “just because,” baking, antique shopping, teaching me to do laundry, teaching me to be like you. Thank you!!!

LYNN FRAWLEY, Los Angeles

My brother and I grew up during the Depression. After his salary had been cut, our father announced that our family [would] get along without “frills,” which included music lessons. Our mother continued our lessons, paying cash to the teacher from her household fund and admonished us to say nothing.

NADINE HATHAWAY, Santa Fe Springs