For the Mom’s

Dear Santa,

I’ve been a good mom all year. I’ve fed, cleaned, and
cuddled my two 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 any more 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 plays
only big-people 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
be heard only 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 would 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 in his
pajamas to eat contraband ice cream 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…

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