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Mom's letter to Santa

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Had a few minutes alone to start thinking about Christmas crafts (my dh and

the 3 kids are at the pet store, no doubt coming home with another guina pig

since they've been gone for over an hour!), and found this cute letter to

Santa. Enjoy.

========================================================

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 Pak, 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-law's 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.

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Had a few minutes alone to start thinking about Christmas crafts (my dh and

the 3 kids are at the pet store, no doubt coming home with another guina pig

since they've been gone for over an hour!), and found this cute letter to

Santa. Enjoy.

========================================================

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 Pak, 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-law's 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.

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