Dear Santa


Dear Santa,

So it’s been a few years since I’ve written.  I believe my last letter was in 1978 when I asked you for a Barbie Dreamhouse. I found it under the tree on Christmas morning. That elevator on a string was just magical.  I remember you brought my brother a Stretch Armstrong, which was the most fun toy to fight over. It was a banner Christmas that year. Anyway, you came through for me then, and I’m hoping you’ll come through for me now.

Santa, every year I stress and shop and spend countless hours trying to come up with the perfect gifts for the people in my life. From my husband, to my kids, teachers, the UPS driver, you get the picture. And every year, when someone asks me what I want, I say “Oh…nothing”.

But you know what? There are some things I secretly want. Things that cannot be bought at the mall. Things only you, the Big Guy, could possibly make happen. So for the first time in my adult life, I’ve got a list and I was wondering if you could help me out.

1.  I’d like someone, anyone, in my family to load the dishwasher the correct way. In other words, my way. I got so sick of people throwing the dishes in all willy-nilly and then expecting a medal for “helping” out that I banned them all from the task. I would like that ban to be lifted.

2.  I want my kids to self-regulate their screen time. I want them to think, “Wow, I’ve just watched four Netflix episodes in a row, perhaps I should turn off the TV and get some food or air.” Maybe even (gasp) read a book. Since I’m probably kidding myself to think that would ever happen, I’d like you to send someone to come to my house and yell at my kids to get off screens. That could be, like, an actual job, right?

3.  I would love for my daughter who is away at college to call me for some motherly advice sometimes, instead of just calling because I changed the Amazon password. (Which, by the way, is a very sneaky effective way to get your college kid to call home).

4.  I’d like to fit into my regular jeans. Not my “skinny” jeans, I’ve long given up on those, just my regular jeans. Maybe the same person you send to yell at my kids can also follow me around and slap my hand away every time I reach for the candy I have stashed in the pantry.

5.  I want my dog to find a good spot to pee in under two minutes. I would like my children to be able to get their shoes on in the same amount of time. I feel like I spend half my life waiting for the dog to pee and the other half waiting for people to get their shoes on.

6.  I’d love to drive around in a car (even briefly) with no food wrappers, empty water bottles, articles of clothing, forgotten homework, or mysterious odor…just a really, really clean car that smells lemony-fresh. With a full tank of gas and no weird service lights on.

7.  I want to be able to write more than three sentences without being interrupted by people asking if they can have a snack. Every five minutes.

8.  Not to be mean, but is there such a thing as a Kardashian filter? You know, something that would block me from ever having to see, hear, or read about them ever again? Because that would be really, really cool.

9.  I want to remember to move that ridiculous Elf every night. It’s no fun starting my day off feeling like a total loser because my kid wants to know why Pablo is still in the same spot. Again. Really, I’m running out of excuses as to why our Elf is so lazy.

10.  Is it within your Santa powers to banish spiders from the earth? Or, if that would have too much of an ecological impact, can you at least make it so that I don’t run into any of them (or their webs)?

You know, Santa, in writing this list, something just occurred to me. This Christmas, my youngest child is nine years old.  And even though the kids at school tell her otherwise, and even though she has questioned the logistics of your Christmas Eve delivery schedule, she still believes in you and your magic. And that wonder, the anticipation, the racing downstairs on Christmas morning, I’m not ready to let go of that just yet.

So on second thought, you can forget the rest of my list.  Even the kid-yelling, diet-regulating assistant. What I really want for Christmas, the ONLY thing I want, in fact, is for that magic to remain in our home just a little bit longer.

Thanks, Santa….I really hope you can deliver.  Merry Christmas.