Listen up, kids. This is your mother, speaking.

That big day is tomorrow and I've got a hint or two as to what I'd like for Mother's Day. Not cards or flowers, or even a box of chocolates. Forget the reservations at a fancy restaurant. What I want won't cost you the price of a stamp, as such, but it might take the rest of your life to fulfill.

If you really wish to honor me as your mother, live the way you should when no one is looking. And after you leave the house and are on your own, keep hoeing that straight furrow.

Of course your father and I can make you toe the line at home ... at least that's our intent. The real proof of your respect will be how you behave on the outside: college, on the job ... the whole kit and caboodle.

Naturally I wouldn't expect you to puppet every activity. If you want to cook your potatoes with the foil on, go ahead. I'll just continue to bake mine in the skins and get that great crispy effect that you'll be missing. And I'll not be there to see what time you go to bed at night. You'll have to find out for yourself how intelligent your answers are to a test after staying up until 1:30 a.m. every day of the week.

Those types of experimentation are a given. What I'm hoping for is a lifetime of adhering to morals and standards you've experienced in the 18 years of living at home. That time-honored phrase, "Honor your father and mother" wasn't talking about a phone call once per year around mid-May. The concept behind that charge can be found in many cultures and faiths, and it doesn't hinge on checking the calendar to see when to post a particular greeting card every spring.

We all know the commercial side of these holidays. The promotions to "show Mom how much you love her," are contrived more for increasing sales rather than concern for us old folks. So don't be  guilt-tripped into buying me a card, unless you  find employment at a stationary store. In which case I'll be expecting something spiffy and embossed.

In the end, those yearly symbols, while nice and all, are not my ultimate reward for being your mother. My hopes and prayers will be answered as I see you live out your life. Don't get me wrong, any gifts of chocolate will not be refused. I'm human, after all. But eventually the cards and flowers will fade, so you may wish to save your money and work on a gift far dearer: the legacy of a life lived in such a way that one day, you'll be passing on the lessons you have learned to children of your own.