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 build a science project in less than 15 minutes before the bus comes with a handful of staples, Popsicle sticks 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 anymore free time in the next 18 or so years.

Here are my Christmas wishes:

I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache after a day of chasing an overly energetic two and a half year old (in any color, 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 fifth 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 teenager doll that says, "Yes, Mom, you are right" 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 (and husband's) hearing range and can only be heard by the cat. And please don't forget the Playdoh Travel Pack, the ultimate stocking stuffer this year for mothers of preschoolers. It comes in three fluorescent colors and is guaranteed to crumble and stick in any carpet making the grandparent's and 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, at least 10 minutes alone to use the potty, or better yet 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. If not that then how about Rice Krispy Treats? One or the other is fine with me.

It would also be helpful if you could coerce my teenage son to help around the house without demanding payment as if he were the boss of an organized crime family; or if my toddler didn't look so cute sneaking out of the pantry to eat contraband Hershey's Kisses 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 door 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 for a little while longer.

You can compose a letter to Santa here. If you've got the guts to post it then put it in the comments section for all to see.