Today is actually March 10th, Gavin's Birthday. It's three in the morning and I can't sleep. This is the place I come to when my brain can't keep me in a state of slumber, a place where I should be at this hour. I guess I should be really proud of myself, at least I'm making good use of my time, right? This is what I call supreme organization ---I'm making a post for Christmas in March!
I've been cleaning everything lately. This morning I was cleaning out files on my computer when I ran into this document entitled, "Dear Santa." I pulled it up and started reading. I finished in side splitting laughter with water spurting from my eyes. It's an excerpt from a book Dr. Laura wrote. Kaedell gave it to me eons ago. Dr. Laura is my favorite. When you get done reading this, she'll be your favorite too.
So to all the mothers in the world, from me to you. Merry Christmas!
Dear Santa,
I’ve been a good mom all year. I’ve fed, cleaned and cuddled my children on
demand, visited the doctor’s office more than my doctor and sold 62 cases of
candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground. I was hoping you could spread my Christmas
list over several years, 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 so who
knows if I’ll find any more free time in the next 18 years.
Here are my wishes: I’d like a pair of legs that don’t ache
(in any color except purple, which I already have) and arms that don’t hurt or
flap in the breeze, but are strong enough to pull my screaming child out of the
candy aisle in the grocery store.
I’d also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the 7th
month of my last pregnancy. If you’re
hauling big ticket items this year, I’d like fingerprint-resistant windows and
a radio that only plays adult music, 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 doll that says,
“Yes, Mommy,” to boost my parental connfidence, along with two kids who don’t
fight and three jean skirts 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 sister,” because my voice seems to be just out of my children’s hearing range and can only be heard
by the dog.
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 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 also 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.
Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is calling my name, and
my son saw my feet under the laundry room door.
I think he wants his crayon back.
Yours always, Mom.
P.S.: One more thing . . . you can cancel all my requests if
you can keep my children young enough to always believe in Santa.
(Dr. Laura Schlessinger "In Praise of Stay-at-Home Moms")
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