I’ve been a good mom all year. I’ve fed, cleaned and cuddled my kids on demand, visited the doctor’s office more than my doctor and chaperoned more than my fair share of class trips. I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my daughter’s purple 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 (can I request a pair that comes smooth and tan?), 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 and flat belly, since mine is currently MIA since the fourth month of my last pregnancy.

If you’re hauling big ticket items this year I’d like fingerprint resistant walls and windows, a television that doesn’t broadcast any programs containing talking animals or cartoons, 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 a kid who doesn’t talk back, and three pairs of stylish 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 daughter’s hearing range and can only be heard by the dogs (but now that I think of it…they don’t listen either).

If it’s too late to find any of these products, I’d settle for enough time to brush my teeth and shower in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a take out container.

If you don’t mind, I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. It would be helpful if you could coerce my child to help around the house without demanding bribes as if she were the boss of an organized crime family.

Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is calling and my son is screaming for a diaper change, once again. 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 young enough to believe in Santa.