A cell-phone stalker? No, that's just my mother

I would have been terrified if this message had originated from another source. But it was from my mom.

She’s perhaps the only person who loves me enough to sit around thinking about how much she loves me.

Before texting her back, it dawned on me.

When you think about it — really, I implore you to stop and think about it for a second — there is a fine line between mothers and stalkers.

If anyone else phoned you that often or said those things — “you are so special,” “you are my magical angel from heaven,” etc. — you’d change the number or call the police for an old-fashion restraining order.

If anyone else kept a shrine to you in her home, you’d move to a gated mountain town. Who else has license to smell your blankets to relive the past? Who else keeps your shoes around to remember how tiny your feet once were? Who else keeps clippings of your hair in a bag?

Alex Forrest, Max Cady and Annie Wilkes have nothing on mothers when it comes to attention to their target of devotion.

Kevin Costner may have protected Whitney from her stalker in "The Bodyguard,” but he’d have no luck screening your mom’s calls.

I am a childless, independent women of the ’90s, so I don’t exactly have insider information on the matter, but as far as I can tell, mothers stalk because they love and are a little nutty.

They get away with their stalker-like ways because they do one of the most bizarre things in nature.

Even in remote, gated mountain towns, mothers push lettuce heads through button holes. After performing this revolting task, these saintly creatures love their lettuce head even after it is old enough to raise a lettuce head of its own.

This is why I have cats.

Contact this reporter at (937) 225-2384 or arobinson@Dayton DailyNews.com.