2007/12/30
2007/12/26
A Mom's Letter to Santa
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. 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 (in any color, except purple, which I already
have) and arms that don't hurt or flap in the breeze; but are strong enough to pull my
screaming child out of the candy aisle in the grocery store.
I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh week of my last
pregnancy.
If you're hauling big ticket items this year, I'd like 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 doll that says, "Yes, Mommy" to boost my
parental confidence, along with 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.
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.
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 door and come in and dry off 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.
*Santa has asked that this gets passed on to all
the mommies you know.
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. 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 (in any color, except purple, which I already
have) and arms that don't hurt or flap in the breeze; but are strong enough to pull my
screaming child out of the candy aisle in the grocery store.
I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh week of my last
pregnancy.
If you're hauling big ticket items this year, I'd like 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 doll that says, "Yes, Mommy" to boost my
parental confidence, along with 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.
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.
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 door and come in and dry off 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.
*Santa has asked that this gets passed on to all
the mommies you know.
2007/12/24
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