A Mothers Letter to Santa.

I got an e-mail from a friend of mine who says she couldn't help but send it along because it seems so much like me. I thought I would share it with everyone because it is friggin hilarious!


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 times than my doctor, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a tree on the school playground.

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 will 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 (in any color, except purple, shich 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 your hauling big ticket items this year I'd like 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 doll that says, "Yes Mommy" to boost my parental confidence, along with 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 the 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.

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 would clear my conscience immensley. 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.

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 door and come in and dry off so you don't catch a cold. Help your self to coookies 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 young enoiugh to believe in santa for many years to come.