"Busiest Time of the Year"

This time of the year can be sooooooo stressful. I feel like I am going to war each morning and my daily victory is when I can finally go to sleep before midnight. In light of the "busyness" I thought I would share my Christmas letter addressed to Santa Claus.

Mom's Letter to Santa

December 2008

Dear Santa:

I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned, nagged, chauffered, and cuddled my four children on demand, visited the doctor's office so much that I doubled my insurance deductible. I purchased sixty-two cases of candy bars, enough wrapping paper for at least 505 presents, enough fireworks to have my own “stadium of fire” and 8 tubs of cookie dough all so that we could contribute our fair share to the cheerleading, drill team and soccer funds. I have also learned how to mend choir robes and dance costumes with staples and a glue gun. I lost my mind but ended up with more logic than I started with.

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 grocery receipt in the laundry room, between cycles, and who knows when I'll find anymore free time in the next 10 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 a back with muscles that do not require six ibuprofen tablets and a heating pad at the end of the day. I want arms that don't flap in the breeze but are strong enough to carry a screaming seven year old from the candy aisle in the grocery store.

I'd also like a waist, a SMALL one, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my third pregnancy. If you're hauling big ticket items this year I'd like a car with fingerprint resistant windows, a stereo that only plays adult music and includes a feature that prevents a teenager from increasing the volume and changing the station. If it can be equipped with automatic seat belts in the back seat, that would be great.

It would be nice to have a television that doesn't broadcast any programs containing talking animals or super model reality shows and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can stash chocolate. I would also like a closet with only a door knob on the inside and space that will allow me to hide so I can talk on the phone or finish the book, “Breaking Dawn.” A double bolt lock for the bathroom door would be a bonus.

On the practical side, I could use a talking daughter doll that says, “Yes, mom,” to boost my parental confidence, along with one seven year old who can manage to sit through school all day without sudden bursts of energy, four kids who never fight, perfect report cards, clean bedding and bathrooms, a robot who does laundry (and never mixes the whites with reds) and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools or a girdle. 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 the hearing range of my children and can only be heard by the neighbor’s dog.

And please don't forget the Playdoh Travel Pack, the hottest stocking stuffer this year for mothers of first graders. It comes in three fluorescent colors and is guaranteed to crumble on any carpet making the neighbors’ houses 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, blow dry my hair and put mascara on both of my eyes all within the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature and 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 teenagers to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family; or if you could make my 11 year old not so cute while sneaking goldfish crackers upstairs to eat in her bed 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 forever and happy enough for a lifetime.

I hope this helps add a little humor to your "busiest time of the year." A good laugh is a good remedy for me. If you have any requests for Santa, I can put in a good word for you.