This was forwarded to me via e-mail. I changed the words a bit.
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, changed a zillion diapers, and picked up items every 2 seconds. 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 new back that isn't in pain and I just hate the smell of bengay which is now my new perfume.
I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the third month of my 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 three 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", "Take your hands off your brother or sister," "Get Down. Don't climb." and "No, No Don't touch that." because my voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the cat.
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, time alone to take a crap 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 bribes 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, TRIPLET MOM...!
P.S. One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in Santa.
*Santa has asked that this gets passed on to all the mommies you know
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, changed a zillion diapers, and picked up items every 2 seconds. 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 new back that isn't in pain and I just hate the smell of bengay which is now my new perfume.
I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the third month of my 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 three 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", "Take your hands off your brother or sister," "Get Down. Don't climb." and "No, No Don't touch that." because my voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the cat.
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, time alone to take a crap 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 bribes 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, TRIPLET MOM...!
P.S. One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in Santa.
*Santa has asked that this gets passed on to all the mommies you know
1 comment:
All of these things would be great, but especially ketchup as a vegetable!
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