In the month of May many of us might find ourselves thinking of our own mother.

It’s probably the most significant role in young lives.

I just got finished reading a book on relationships that claimed it’s quite common for teenagers to have a troubled relationship with their mother.

I was surprised when the book said many teens hate their mother.

Hate is a strong word, and I don’t think it’s accurate in describing a typical mother-daughter relationship.

I think it may be more accurate to say many teens resent their mother.

With mothers and daughters, it’s often a troubled relationship because mothers are usually the disciplinarians.

It sure was like that growing up in my house.

My father was the fun one. My mother was the strict one. She viewed it as her job to keep me on a straight and narrow path. Trust me, she sure did.

She never commented when I came home with straight A’s or when I won a leading role in a community play.

She asked nothing of me except “to be good.” She was meticulous in everything she did and believed “cleanliness is next to godliness. “

Our home always looked like we were expecting a visit from the Good Housekeeping photographer.

My father was the one who taught me fun things, like how to ride a bike and how to waltz on skates.

One thing he never did was to discipline me in any way. That was up to my mother.

Back then, it wasn’t unusual that mothers did the mothering. Fathers went to work. And mothers took care of the kids and ran the household.

One survey said a significant number of kids had limited contact with fathers. A father’s role was to work while mothers were responsible for child care. By the time my own children were parents I was happy to see fathers taking a bigger role.

What I regret now that I’m older is that I never gave my mother the praise that she deserved.

A few times she mentioned that she knew my father was my hero. She never said, “What about me?” But looking back I’m sure she must have felt slighted or unappreciated because she never heard words of praise.

It was only when I got older that I realized mom never got the praise she deserved. Oh, how sorry I am.

One sad day that sticks out in my memory bank was when, at 15, I was complaining because I couldn’t stay at the dance until it was over.

I’ve never forget my horrible words hurled at her. I called her Mean Mom.

“I’m never going to treat my kids as horribly as you treat me.” I told her.

She calmly said, “That’s nice.”

That was decades ago but it still plays on my mind. Instead of giving her praise I gave her a hard time.

I’m sure there are many older folks who still wish they would had given their mother the praise they deserved.

I love the quote said to be from Mother Teresa.

“Forgive yourself for not knowing what only time can teach you,” she said.

That’s powerful and ever so needed by people like me still wishing I would have behaved better.

Now, here I am, well past my teenage years, past my child raising days and past the chance to tell my mother how special she was.

There are still many days when I long to have the chance to tell my mother how much I looked up to her.

Instead of telling her my father was my hero, I wish I would have told her she was the true hero.

When my father left and moved away, he left my mother with two little kids and no means of support. Looking back, I realize how frightening it must have been for her to have no home, no job, no car, no money.

Looking back, I find it amazing that she never once complained. Instead, she worked two jobs, working in my aunt’s dress factory during the day, coming home to make dinner then rushing off to work as a waitress at night.

I can forgive my 12-year-old self for not realizing how hard that was for her, for never saying thank you for her years of sacrifice in caring for my brother and me.

I had plenty years when I was old enough to thank her but, as a typical kid, I only saw life through my own eyes.

It took my maturity to realize how incredible my mother was. And still I didn’t tell her how she was my hero. I never thanked her.

Now, there are plenty of times when my brother and I talk about how much we owe to the woman we were fortunate enough to call Mom.

My brother says it was my mother who taught him thrift and how to manage money.

“She taught me it’s not how much money you make. It’s how much you save,” he said.

I hope there is a special place in heaven for all the mothers who were unsung heroes.

Email Pattie Mihalik at newsgirl@comcast.net