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A Letter to Santa
by Debbie Farmer, © 1997
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 times 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 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
P.S. One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if
you can keep my children innocent enough to believe
in Santa.
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