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A Mother's Letter to Santa
By: Debbie Farmer
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 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.
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 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 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 Inlaws' 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.
Always,
Mom
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Syndicated columnist Debbie Farmer is the author of the print book LIFE IN
THE FAST FOOD LANE: Surviving the Chaos of Parenting. Order your copy at the
Family Daze website: http://www.familydaze.com
Her weekly column "Family Daze" is also available weekly to print
publications. Contact Debbie@familydaze.com
for more information.
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