- Dec 1, 2004
- 1,091
- 0
Mom's Letter to Santa
======================
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 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) 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 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 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 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 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; or if my toddler didn't
look so cute sneaking downstairs to eat contraband ice cream in
his pajamas 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
PS One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can
keep my children young enough to believe in Santa.
~Written by unknown Mom~
======================
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 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) 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 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 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 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 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; or if my toddler didn't
look so cute sneaking downstairs to eat contraband ice cream in
his pajamas 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
PS One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can
keep my children young enough to believe in Santa.
~Written by unknown Mom~
