At a recent holiday brunch, the waitress wished my mother-in-law and me a happy Mother's Day as we sat at the table.

I quickly explained that I'm not a mother -- although my two dogs would disagree --and she apologized profusely. As I gazed around the room I noticed all the mothers and their children and started to wonder when will my time come. More importantly, will I be any good at it?

I've wanted to have children ever since I can remember. I'm not sure where that notion came from -- my mom, my family, my genes or my upbringing -- but my desire to have children has only grown stronger over the years.

Growing up playing house, dressing my dolls and making them dinner in my child-size kitchen seemed like what motherhood was all about. I had a talking doll that would tell me to change her and put her down for a nap. I had dolls that would go to the bathroom and require food. As I cleaned up their messes, I thought, "Piece of cake."

But I had no idea what I was thinking, and now I wonder how good a mother I'll really be.

I am the youngest in my family and have no cousins to speak of. I have been around babies in a limited way, through the few friends of my parents who had children later in life. I've never been around a crying baby who can't sleep, seen a woman breastfeed a child or learned how to entertain a cranky newborn.

The only mommy training I have is through taking care of my pets. I have nursed their injuries, taken them to the doctor regularly, brushed their teeth and bathed them, and, above all, worried about them getting sick or injured.

But dogs don't talk back or say "No!" when they're being moody. They cry and bark, sometimes nonstop, but quieting them usually takes nothing more than a command or treat.

So what happens when I have a baby who can't stop crying? Will I freak out and run from the situation, or will I rise to the occasion?

What if I'm really bad at caring for a baby in general? What if I get totally lost and ruin the child's life forever?

I'm sure all of my fears are normal and natural and that when I'm there in the moment I'll figure out how to handle the situation.

But what about my husband? The guy who said, "That's not cool," and stared at me helpless when I fainted one day. The guy who is afraid of mice. Will he be ready to step in and run the show when I can't? Will he freak out when the baby makes a mistake like my dog pees on the carpet?

Thing is that we won't know if we're good parents until we try. We can read books, seek advice from other parents, read every tidbit online, and yet it will still come down to us.

When I ask Jack if he'll be a good dad, without hesitation, he says, "Of course."

Like many things in life, maybe that's what it's all about: confidence, trust and faith. They will help me overcome my fears and doubts like Dr. Spock never could.

When I mess up, I'll just have to remember that my mom messed up, too. That time she didn't catch me before I stubbed my toe may be part of what makes me unique.

No matter how much I read and ask, I still don't know if I'll be a good mom. But I can't wait to find out.