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” and “Take your hands off your brother”,
because my voice seems to be just out of my children’s
hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.
And please don’t forget the Playdoh Travel Pak, 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-law’s
house seem just like mine.
If it’s too late to find any of these products, I’d settle for
enough time 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.