Mother's Day, the annual event in which we pay tribute to our moms, is Sunday.

Let's be honest -- every day should be Mother's Day. They deserve it.

So today, I want to salute my mom. God knows she's put up with a lot looking after me for the past 23 years and seven months. If it wasn't for her keeping me from forgetting everything, I'd probably be dead in a gutter somewhere.

Mom says that I was her "buddy" when I was little. While my father slaved away inside the University of Kentucky Medical Center during his residency, a fate that all young doctors are subjected to, Mom and I hung out in our little Lexington home. We did everything together -- going to the car wash, "Krogering," watching "Perfect Strangers" and "Three's Company" on TV. Champ the golden retriever was there also, keeping an eye on everything.

Not much has changed from our Kentucky days. Mom and I are still buddies, even though we butt heads on occasion. We've had some good, healthy spats over the years, most of which stemmed from my complaining about writing thank-you notes after birthdays or Christmases.

There was also that time in high school when I kicked a hole in the wall after my computer crashed while burning a CD for a pep rally I was emceeing.

As you can imagine, that worked out really well. If I remember correctly, Mom dragged me to Lowe's bright and early on a Saturday morning to buy a drywall patch. But we ended up laughing about the absurdity of the incident while she helped me repair the damage.

For whatever reason, I've always been kind of cynical and think the glass is always half-empty. Everything is the worst-case scenario. My short fuse only makes matters worse. As my column about TV a couple of weeks ago exemplified, I have a tendency to explode when things don't go my way or I don't like something.

Fortunately, Mom is my antidote. And there's one example that changed my life.

I called her one frigid Boston day in the late fall during my senior year of college. Like most kids my age, I was fearing graduation. I had no idea what I was going to do. After rejecting the idea of going to law school the summer before, I thought I was now stuck with what I believed was a worthless political science degree.

As I paced around Gasson Hall in the middle of campus, the snow falling around me, I told Mom I was at my breaking point. I started spewing stereotypical "the sky is falling" nonsense. I told her that I should have never majored in poli-sci. I told her that I never should have gone to BC. I told her that I was most likely "screwed" and destined to failure.

Basically, Mom told me in a nice way that I needed to stop being such a drama queen and start being a little more proactive. Instead of walking around feeling sorry for myself, I needed to start making some calls to find the best opportunity. Unemployment has never been a career path Mom and Dad have supported.

Mom knew I liked to write. She was the one that told me I should take the news writing class that semester.

"Why not call The Pilot and see if you could intern there?" she asked.

The rest is history.

I owe everything I have to my parents. I consult with them on pretty much everything. But poor Mom is forced to endure the brunt of my whining. In short, she should be canonized.

Thanks, Mom, for always being there to pick me up when I'm down and for always believing in me, even though I know I can be a pain sometimes. You're the best mom anyone could ask for.

Happy Mother's Day!

Contact John Krahnert III at 693-2473 or by e-mail at jkrahnert@thepilot.com