Please bring this mom some Legs that don't ache, Fingerprint-proof car windows, Radio with adult music, TV that bans talking animals, Secret phone booth.
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 in 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 Christmas',
since I had to write this one 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 eighteen years.
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 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 out of my children's
hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.
And please, don't forget the Play-Doh Travel Pack, the hottest
stocking stuffer this year for mothers of preschoolers. It comes
in three fluorescent colors guaranteed to crumble on any carpet
and make the In-laws' house seem just like home.
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 and 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.
Oh,
and one more thing Santa; you can cancel all my requests if you
can keep my children young enough to believe in you.