Happy Hands-Off Mother's Day

When I said all I wanted for Mother's Day was a nice, relaxing picnic at the park with the family, that wasn't entirely true. Oh, I meant it when I said I didn't want any gifts (wrapped that is), but there is a short list of things that I'd like to include as Must-Have's for Mother's Day.

People who live with me: Please pay attention.

I don't want to do dishes, laundry, cooking of any kind (social or survival), wipe noses, butts, tables, or chocolate pudding off the walls. I don't want to de-poop the yard, refill the snake's water dish, find missing mates to shoes, socks, wayward Lego parts, or the ever-elusive remote control. I don't want to remind anyone not to fart at the table, but if they do to say "excuse me", or not to fiddle with their boy parts or that--for the last time--diarrhea is not called dynamite, but perhaps, should be. I don't want to cringe today when my son calls a fat woman fat to her face in public when he genuinely meant it as a kind of compliment for being so big, a mere observation of a physical fact and not an insult in any way. I don't want to be the mother who loses her kids in the store when they run away from her and hide under the clothing racks, only to race to the front to have her paged over the loud speaker just so they can hear their last name announced for all the world to hear. I don't want to sweat or swear--unless it's for sheer enjoyment and not out of frustration. I don't want to make peace, paper airplanes, or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches cut in half diagonal NOT horizontal. I don't want to kill spiders or anyone's formative hopes and dreams. I don't want to clean a toilet, dog, or toys from the floor of the boys bedroom for the gazillionth time in a day. I don't want a teenager--mine or any other on the planet--to give me attitude, grief of any kind, or a last minute list of expensive things that need to be purchased, like, yesterday. And most of all, I don't want anyone to be unhappy, especially myself, meaning no tantrums, tears, lost toys, pets, or tempers, on this: My very special day of celebrating the many joys of motherhood.

Basically, all of the things I do twice on a regular day, I don't even want to do once today. I just want a healthy, happy, hands-off Mother's Day where I can sit in a patio chair and watch--from a safe distance--my children engaged in relatively unsupervised, but safe and mess-free play.

Is that too much to ask?