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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 any more 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 plays only big-people 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 be heard only 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-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 would 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 in his pajamas to eat contraband ice
cream 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
P.S. One more thing: You can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young.
