Dear Santa,

I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned, and cuddled my two
children on demand, visited the 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 and figured out how to attach nine patches onto my
daughter's girl scout sash with staples and a glue gun.

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 any more
free time in the next 18 years.

Here are my Christmas wishes:

I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache after a day of chasing kids (in any
colour, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don't flap in the
breeze, but are strong enough to carry a screaming toddler 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 a
car with 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 daughter doll that says, "Yes,
Mummy" to boost my parental confidence, along with one potty-trained
toddler, 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.

And please don't forget the Play-Doh Travel Pack, the hottest stocking
stuffer this year for mothers of pre-schooler's. It comes in three
fluorescent colors and is guaranteed to crumble on any carpet making the
In-laws' house seem just like mine.

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; or if my toddler didn't look so cute sneaking downstairs to eat
contraband ice cream in his pajamas at midnight.

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 chimney and come in and dry off
by the fire 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 you.