9:09 a.m. Actually, I was somewhat inaccurate, as usual. The bookmark in question, a most beloved item in my house, doesn't say "Mom" at all. For reasons I will elaborate, the very word "mom" has begun to get on my nerves a little teeny bit, of late. No, as you can plainly see, the bookmark doesn't say "mom". It says "Mommy".

I was never really a mom back when it was my turn -- except in an honorary way when there were lots of neighbor kids in the house -- and I never had a mom of my own. My mother actually signs her greeting cards with quotation marks around the word. I often ponder that fact.

These days, my kids call me "mom" when they're being formal and I sometimes call my own mother when I'm being dutiful. Secondo, the creator of the bookmark, calls me "mother" when he's on the answer machine because that's what his father called his mother. We called her "Mom Mom". When my mother hears the answer machine message she sighs loudly and hems and haws and hangs up without a word. But I know it's her. You can always tell.

Every time you turn on the TV, you will hear the word "mom" and you know how you're supposed to react. It's the new abrupt, chopped-off shorthand for the latest incarnation of the most powerful creature on the face of the earth. This time there are no pearls and tight makeup and straight-seamed hose. This time she's a modern young thing, a good egg, a swell sport who will put up with just about anything and bounce right back -- no prob. Give her a Calgon bath and a fresh pair of white Keds and she's back in business. "I am a mom," the educated voice-over intones, and you cringe.

Because it's never the musty good old "mom" from the '40s movie universe who made cookies and pie for the troops, but rather: "I'm a mom and I have so many errands to run, people to tend, SUVs to steer, meetings to chair." You know she's going to be juggling. You know she's going to be feisty and game. You know she's going to make you feel bad instead of better -- because she is so much better than you.

Nobody admits to being a mommy in this brave new world of the Attaché Mom. Nobody admits to needing their mommy once they've gotten past the age of three.

A mommy is so gooey. Sticky. Clingy. Leaky and rumpled. I was a mommy once, and when I thought it was safe to try to get a job, once my youngest was eleven and we really needed the money -- well, it wasn't safe at all. Once the forlorn kid got home from school he would start calling to see what time I was coming home. He'd found me out. I was dry-cleaned and pressed and I really loved the fluorescent lights and magically vacuumed rugs and state-of-the-art coffee filtration system at my place of employment. I'd even begun to think about nail polish. I can still see the blinking light on the hundred-line phone and I can still hear him rattling around, looking for food without crusts at the bottom of the freezer.

They never tell you on TV that the woman going out to work is a mommy. How could they? How could she? If a mommy leaves, somebody is sure to cry at the window. A mom? Well, she's just super. She can handle anything. Moms pack lunches and label dinners so you can feed yourself in her absence. Mommies eat along with you to keep you company. Moms usually have short efficient hair and their own space for their own needs. Mommies never even comb their hair. No time. No need. No space between you and your mommy when you cuddle. Mommies always smell funny.

And don't even get me started on "momma". That's what the script calls for when the actor has a bad accent and the ethnic stereotype in question must seem politically correct. Natalie Wood fussed prettily for her momma in West Side Story and every single crime scene from Kojack to NYPD Blue ultimately features a hand-wringing brown-eyed wholesome pretending respect for his -- momma. Such nonsense. One of the things that makes The Sopranos so chilling is the fact that there isn't a momma in sight. I've never known anyone who has a momma. Tony and Camilla worry about Ma, of course, and she actually hits her kids and threatens them with bodily harm. Reminds me of my own dear momma.

In the movie Like Water for Chocolate, the character of Tita has a difficult time getting her mother to have any warm feelings for her. In the translated book the mother is called Mama Elena, but in the movie, Tita calls her mommy. On Do You Want to be a Millionaire? there is a "lifeline" gimmick in which the contestant can make a phone call to ask for answers. The calls often go out to the contestant's mother or the contestant's mom, but not a one of them, so far, no matter how much he sweats and falls apart inside, has ever called his mommy. Reege would have a field day.

Some moms know they are really mommies down deep where it counts. Some moms know they are not. No amount of time and distance can change these facts. No amount of quality time can fix the chasm between hearts.

Sometimes I forget to call my mother. But I always miss my mommy.