Letter to Santa from Mom
Dear Santa,
I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned, and cuddled my
two children on demand, visited their 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 when I want 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", "Take your shoes off the couch," and 'Take your
hands off your brother/sister," 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 Pack, the 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.
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, My Kids' Mom
PS: One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my
children young enough to believe in you.