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 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," 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 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 calling 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 young enough to believe in Santa.