dear santa

Dear Santa,

I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned and cuddled my two children on demand, visited the zoo more times than I can count, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the preschool playground and have co-produced more than my share of googley eyed, glittery, fingerpainted crafts.

I was hoping you could maybe spread my list out over several Christmases, since I'm having to write this letter with red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room in 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).

I want 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 seem to have lost mine permanently somewhere in the sixth 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.

It would be nice to have 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 neighborhood dogs.

And please don't forget the Playdough 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 also 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 snacks in his pajamas at midnight.

Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is sounding 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.

P.S. - One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in Santa.

written by an anonymous mom