I'm slowly but surely becoming acquainted with the other parents at my children's elementary school. I know their faces, even if I'm not sure which kid belongs to which parent yet, or in some cases, greeting the other parents with "Hi, Susie's mom!" You would think that after three years at this school, with two children in attendance, I would have more of a handle on these things. Of course, given my NDS (noun deficiency syndrome) - it is remarkable that I can remember my own children's names.

"Hey, you! Middle child! You! Um...brown hair girl!"

I see the faces, I try to remember the names, and I chit-chat at the park, while the swirl of parents and children move around me. It is all a large blur, except for the Mona Lisa.

Mona Lisa is the nickname I've given to a mother that I do not know. I see her almost every day, pulling her stroller from the back of her van, walking across the playground, in between the classrooms. I'm fascinated by this mother, because I have never seen her with less than a smile on her face. She always looks genuinely happy.

This woman is always surrounded by her (also smiling) children, who orbit her with beaming faces. Even when she was full-term pregnant and at that awkward wobbling stage, she simply glowed as she escorted her children to class, and played at the park with her little ones. I've never seen her frustrated, heard her utter a cross word or really, even heard her call to her children to 'come on already.' This could be because I'm part deaf from all the 'come on-ing' I do, but really, I'm starting to believe this woman is either a saint, or an expert in mind control. She is a mystery.

I've also noticed that she always sits alone at the park, rarely exchanging words with the other mothers, totally focused on her kids. I've asked about her, and no one seems to know her. Everybody comments on her smile, though. We all want to know why she appears so content. And some of us want to know what she's taking. Maybe keeping her distance from all the malcontents is her secret.

I've toyed with the idea of marching up to her and demanding to know why she's so happy all the time. I recognize that it isn't probably the right approach. I stand with a gaggle of chattering moms, complaining about homework or field trips or dishes piled in the sink, and glance over at this radiant mommy, cooing to her baby and smiling at her children on the swings. Her eyes are always twinking, her cheeks are always curved upwards into a gentle smile. It is clear that she is happy. She looks like a woman in love.

I've been tempted to run over and shake her, hoping that her pixie dust would make me fly, too. Her peaceful face has been a part of my daily grind for years. Seeing her reminds me to smile more. She reminds me to look at my children with love, walking at their pace instead of barrelling ahead to the van, hollering over my shoulder.

I think it is time to introduce myself to Mona Lisa. I'm afraid that I'm not kind enough, gentle enough, polite enough to befriend someone who seems so gracious. Then again, maybe she'd appreciate a little crazy. Only one way to find out, right?