I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned, and cuddled my two children on demand, visited the doctor's office too much, 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.
And Santa I’m writing this list while hiding in my laundry room to get away for a few moments and wanted to quickly jot down 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 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 and a television that doesn't show programs with talking animals.
On the practical side, how about a talking daughter doll that says, "Yes, Mommy" to boost my parental confidence, along with two kids who don't fight. I could also use a recording of a Tibetan monk 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 for any of these things, I'd settle for 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.
Santa, would it be okay if we could declare ketchup a vegetable? Also, it would be great if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payments.
Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my son saw my feet under the laundry room door. I think I’ve been discovered. 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 and please don’t leave crumbs on my carpet.
Yours Always, Mom
P.S. And one more thing Santa... you can cancel all my requests if you can simply keep my children young enough to believe in you.