Dear Santa

Quote by Dani

Fucker.

Quote by Dani
Dear Santa,

I'm still waiting for your bitch-ass to bring me a white tiger.

I've been waiting for 20 years now.

And don't try to pull that stuffed tiger shit again like you did on the big B-day incident of '98. It wasn't even your moment to shine.

Fucker.

Quote by Birdie
Dear Santa,

I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned, and cuddled my two children on demand, visited their doctors office more than my own doctor, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to help raise money for the school, and figured out how to attach nine patches to my daughters Girl Scout sash with staples 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 years.

Here are my Christmas wishes:

I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache after a day of chasing kids. (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 pissed-off five year old out of the candy aisle in the grocery store. I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the fourth month of my last pregnancy.

If your hauling big ticket items this year, I'd like a car with fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music, a TV that doesn't brodcast 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 daughter doll that says, "Yes, mom", to boost my parental confidence, along with one well aimed five year old, 2 kids that 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 hearing range and can only be heard by the dog. And please don't forget the Playdoh Travel Pack, the stocking stuffer this year for mothers of young ones. It comes in 3 flourescent colors and is guaranteed to crumble on any carpet, making any house we visit seem just like mine.

If it is too late to find any of these produtcs, I would settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a styrofoam conatiner.

If you don't mind, I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten up the holiday season: Would it be too much trouble to delcare ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely. It would be helpful if you could coerce my children into helping around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family, or if my five year old didn't look so cute sneaking downstairs to eat contraband potato chips in his pajamas at midnight.

Well Santa, the dryer is buzzing, 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 chimney and come in and dry off so you don't catch a 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. You can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in you.