Dear Santa:
I've been a good mom all year.
I've fed, cleaned and cuddled my two children on demand, visited the
doctor's office more than my doctor, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to
raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground and figured out how
to attach nine patches onto my daughter's girl scout sash with staples and a
glue gun.
I was hoping you could spread my list out over several
Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my son's red crayon, on the back
of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I'll find
anymore free time in the next 18 years.
Here are my Christmas wishes:
I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache after a day of chasing kids
(in any color, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don't flap in
the breeze, but are strong enough to carry a screaming toddler out of the candy
aisle in the grocery store. I'd also
like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last
pregnancy. If you're hauling big ticket
items this year I'd like a car with fingerprint resistant windows and a radio
that only plays adult music; a television that doesn't broadcast any programs
containing talking animals; and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind
the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.
On the practical side, I could use a talking daughter doll that
says, "Yes, Mommy" to boost my parental confidence, along with one
potty-trained toddler, two kids who don't fight, and three pairs of jeans that
will zip all the way up without the use of power tools. I could also use a recording of Tibetan
monks chanting, "Don't eat in the living room" that plays within the
children's hearing range and also “Take yourself for a walk” that can only be
heard by the dog. And please don't
forget the Playdoh Travel Pack, the hottest stocking stuffer this year for
mothers of preschoolers. It comes in
three fluorescent colors and is guaranteed to crumble on any carpet making the
In-laws' house seem just like mine. I
want to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of
eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam
container. If you don't mind I could
also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare
ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my
conscience immensely. It would be
helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without
demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family; or
if my toddler didn't look so cute sneaking downstairs to eat contraband ice
cream in his pajamas at midnight.
Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my son saw
my feet under the laundry room door. I
think he wants his crayon back. Have a
safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the chimney and come in and
dry off by the fire so you don't catch cold.
Help yourself to cookies on the table, but don't eat too many or leave crumbs
on the carpet.
Yours Always...
Mom.
PS One more thing... you can cancel all my
requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in Santa!!!
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