So here we are, December. My kids are sitting at the kitchen breakfast bar discussing their Santa lists. We don’t go crazy here for Christmas, at least not in the way of presents. We have a motto, taken from a friend years ago, and it goes like this. Baby Jesus got three gifts and you ain’t no better than Jesus, (the slang makes it) and so the kids have always gotten three gifts and their stockings on Christmas morning. No more, no less. They know not to ask for more than three things. This makes the Santa list project extremely difficult because they have to be sure, extra decisive, in choosing what makes the cut for said list.
Now, since I haven’t had a Christmas list since becoming a mom, over 11 years ago, I started thinking about what those three items would have been during the course of mothering. So I decided to cash in on my 33 items this year, with a little compilation of my own.
Ready, Set, Go…
Since I have basically been your alias for the last decade plus, covering for you at every turn and allowing you to get all the glory and credit for all of my efforts, I think it is only fair that I cash in on some IOU’s. I present to you, the Mommy Santa List.
- I would like just one bathroom break a day where no child has an urgent matter to discuss with me at the moment that my cheeks hit the seat.
- A homing device for my keys that can easily be transferred to my son, should the need arise.
- Noise canceling headphones.
- To be caught up on the laundry for more than 14 minutes.
- To slow down and be more present.
- A Wine Advent Calendar, so I can calmly enjoy the count down to the Birth of our Savior. I do understand that Jesus will have already been born when this gift is delivered, so I am thinking it may need to begin on Dec 26th and continue until we celebrate his arrival again. i.e. Bring Wine it may help with request #5 as well.
- Someone to remember we have a dishwasher and that said dishwasher is the place where the dirty dishes go to get magically clean again. i.e. STOP PILING THEM IN ON AROUND THE KITCHEN SINK.
- More time to snuggle.
- A rumba with a working arm and hand attachment, used to take the wet towels off the bedroom floors and back to the bathroom to be hung on the hook to dry.
- To never forget how their tiny voices sound and their funny way of saying, blanklet and perkfect.
- I would love if the people in my house could stop leaving their underwear inside their leggings, inside their skirts with socks still attached. It would be lovely if all clothing could be turned right side out before being thrown in the hamper. This may be a tall order but you are magical, aren’t you now?
- An old school tape recorder that plays back my voice saying a variety of phrases. Including, but not limited to: please put your shoes and coat on, it’s time to leave for school, we are going to miss the bus if you don’t get ready quickly, I don’t know where your shoes are because I did not wear them last, please get ready we really need to leave, ect.
- A George Jetson shower, because, I mean that thing is amazing and I feel like I was made to believe that would exist by now. Also because I wake up late a lot and it would be a really huge time saver.
- A Starbucks card that I never have to refill with moolah and it always has enough available balance for a Grande Christmas Blend with Spiced Sweet Cream.
- Lava lamp. I always wanted one and never had one. The end.
- For my sweet, sweet family to remember that the hampers are located in the bathroom closets. Always. They do not move around. They are not robots. Remind them that they can count on that being the place to put the dirty clothes from now until the end of time. Promise.
- A stand by Uber that is a mini van, just like mine, with all the right car seats and the driver is my mom, so I know it is safe.
- For more family nights.
- Blinders, so that when I walk into Target I can not see the $1 spot and I can continue living my life with that extra $5 in my bank account. Every. Single. Time.
- A new broom and mop to stand in the corner of the laundry room, giving the impression that I care about housework.
- Weekly therapy appointments. During the therapists lunch hour, just so I can lay in the dark and nap on the leather couch.
- A glimpse into my children’s memory reels, to know what they hold most dear.
- A vending machine that operates with my fingerprints only and stores all my favorite foods that I am not required to share. Even the worst days are made better with Chocolate Twizzler Wine Straws.
- A life sized ball pit, this I will share with the entire house because I know it will be free from whatever unknown is found in ball pits in the outside world. I will gain mom points for this one since the ball pit has been off limits ever since someone not belonging to us, threw up in one during a quick play break from back to school shopping at the mall.
- Speaking of grossness found in pits, I would like to ask for a free pass to not have to clean the litter box. Ever again.
- Bottled up baby smell and tiny voices so when I go spiraling out of control about my littles getting bigger I can have comfort in knowing their tiny self is not totally gone forever.
- For my children to know just how incredible my love for them is and that I am doing the best I can.
- A magical time warp where there is no crying, from anyone about anything, from the time the bus arrives after school until everyone is tucked in for the night.
- Someone to create a family yearbook each year so we can look back and be grateful.
- For apologies and forgiveness to come a little easier.
- For stress and anger to come a little slower.
- For joy to be the default emotion.
- For everyone to always come home for Christmas, so we can be a hot mess together.
I’m not sure if you will bring me these things, Santa. Somedays I am on the nice list and some days, not so much. But just like you, I strive to see my job as a source of magic and miracles, even as I stand here, pooper scooper in hand, laundry is piling up and dishes in the sink, I believe in the spirit of Christmas.
Glitter-Lovin’ Lula Mama to 4 amazing kiddos who aren’t told enough how truly special they really are.