A Smile Every Sunday – Mom’s Request of 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 62 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 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 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

**This came from http://www.humormatters.com/holidays/Christmas/momsrequest.htm

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Published in: on December 6, 2009 at 2:09 pm  Leave a Comment  

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