A friend of mine sent this to me, you've probably read it by now, but if not... I thought the moms out there would like to know they are not alone or at least have a good laugh - Maren
p.s. I have video to upload but my parents internet is about as fast as the pony express.
Dear Santa,
I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned and cuddled my children on
demand, visited their 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 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 (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 seventh 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; 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 Tibetan monks chanting "Don't eat in the
living room" and "Take your hands off your brother/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
brus h 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.
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 cold.
Help yourself to cookies 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 healthy, safe, and young enough to believe in Santa.
p.s. I have video to upload but my parents internet is about as fast as the pony express.
Dear Santa,
I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned and cuddled my children on
demand, visited their 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 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 (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 seventh 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; 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 Tibetan monks chanting "Don't eat in the
living room" and "Take your hands off your brother/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
brus h 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.
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 cold.
Help yourself to cookies 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 healthy, safe, and young enough to believe in Santa.
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