Dear Santa:
I've been a good Mom all year. I've fed, cleaned, and cuddled my
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 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.
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.
P.S. One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my
children young enough to believe in Santa.