Dear Santa,
I'm not asking for a lot this year. Really, I'm not. I promise it's nothing fancy or expensive - there's no Xbox 360, iPad or Samsung Galaxy III on my list. There are no Louis Vuitton purses, Christian Louboutin shoes or MAC Cosmetics. Don't get me wrong - any of those items would make me smile. Who wouldn't love the famous red soled stilettos or the miracle concealer that makes the black circles under my eyes disappear?
I'm asking for some other things that don't cost a single penny. They don't cost a thing, but they would mean the world to me.
So Santa...here is my list:
I want the blades for my razor to stay put in the bathroom. I'm sick of them disappearing. I have a sneaking suspicion my daughters are involved in their disappearance, but I would love to never again have to shave my armpits with a blade as dull as a nail file.
I would like to be able to prepare an entire day's worth of meals without any one complaining. What I wouldn't give to go 24 hours without hearing a fake gagging sound, a choking groan or an indignant, "God, Mom...is that a vegetable? It smells bad."
I would like to be able to sleep in some Saturday, without waking to a child 3 inches from my face, informing me: "Mom, your breath REALLY stinks in the morning."
I would like to be able to offer advice to my children about friendship without them guffawing and rolling their eyes. Believe it or not, I do know a thing or two on that topic.
I would like to be able to experiment with my hairstyle without my daughters chasing me down with a straightener and a bottle of ether. C'mon girls, your momma is from the 80s. You know how difficult this straight hair concept is for me.
I would love to be able to occasionally muzzle my children's observations. I'm well aware how old I look when I wake up, before I put on make-up. And you don't need to comment on the Kardashian size of my rear-end.
Remember children...silence is golden.
Now Santa, I know you can hear my thoughts because I've caught glimpses that you've been paying attention.
This afternoon when we were at the YMCA and I was walking along the indoor track, I looked down a level and saw all three of my girls playing basketball together. There was no fighting, no screams of "IDIOT!" and no one aiming for another's face. And best of all, none of them were hooked up to a laptop or iPod. If I hadn't been huffing and puffing due to my body's shock at exercise, I would have slowly exhaled a breath of relief and gratitude.
Also, Santa...I know you're paying attention because yesterday morning when I woke up, I walked into the living room and found my 8 year old son sitting at a card table, desperate for a card partner. He looked at me hopefully and said, "Mom, do you know how to play ANYthing?"
"I do," I told him. "I can play blackjack. Deal me in."
His excitement at having someone to play cards with melted my heart. Now I'm no dummy. He would have been just as excited if he had been able to teach our golden retriever how to play 31, but Santa...I'll take it.
Last night my 10 year old daughter asked what I wanted for Christmas.
"A coupon book," I told her with no hesitation. "With coupons on how you're going to be nice to me. Where you'll comb my hair or massage my neck. Where no one will shove me, scratch me or poke my boobs and announce they're squishy."
Now I know some one's paying attention, Santa...because I received an early Christmas present from Chloe. A coupon book of hair combings, neck massages and arm tickles.
And it made me smile.
