Apologies, it’s been a while since I last wrote, 30 years or so I’m guessing. The lapse didn’t mean I had forgotten you, quite the opposite, you are a very hard man to forget this time of year. It simply meant that my need for that Barbie, Little Pony, tutu, fluorescent legwarmers and Care Bear passed. At some point around my 8th birthday, my friend told me you weren’t real. Then, that Christmas Eve I caught Dad creeping into my room and leaving a stocking full of pressies at the foot of my bed. He didn’t know I saw him, but I did. Concerned you had just become too fat to fit down the chimney, I crept downstairs and to my horror saw Dad drinking your brandy and Mum munching on the mince pie I had left out for you – I even saw Roudolfs tinsel topped carrot in the fridge the next morning hidden behind the brussel sprouts.
Looking back I now know I was wrong to doubt your existence (in hindsight maybe I should have seen a therapist). But, good news! I now understand my folks were just helping you out whilst you were in rehab. That the brandies had become more than a yearly tipple and the pies had led to diabetes, I was right in thinking you were too portly for your average chimney breast. I trust, given all these years, you are once again on top form and back to your jolly old self. Thinking about it, I doubt you would have had to work that hard on my behalf anyway, I’m pretty sure I would have been pressie-less for the most part due to recurring slots on your naughty list 🙁
Whatever, I have rekindled my belief in you so was hoping you could grant me a few little Xmas wishes? Hopefully, you noted that I’ve done my best to be a good Mum all this year? – I endured a household full of flu (twice), stomach bugs (three times), falls (many), black eyes (three) and even dealt with a cartoon pig stealing three-quarters of my eyebrow (seriously…read the post). I’ve wiped bums, given cuddles, dealt with “ooofs” and “ouches”, rid bedrooms of monsters, kissed grazes, made up bedtime stories and even sat on the naughty step when the kids deemed I had been naughty – surely that gives me a few festive gold stars?
So, Santa, my wishes are simple. All I want for Christmas is…
A lie in. I am mum to twin pre-school boys. It doesn’t matter what time they go to bed, come 6.30 am they are up demanding dippy eggs, Blaze on TV and squabbling over which identical piece of lego is theirs. I have not had a lie in for almost 5 years. It wouldn’t even have to be a big lie in, just a few more hours of non-disturbed sleep in a big cosy bed.
A new voice. Please, can you either give me a new voice or adjust the tone of mine to make it one that is heard by my children? I am tired of repeating myself and sounding like a scratched record. It would be a refreshing change to actually see the boys jump into action and wash their teeth or get dressed when asked. The “who wants chocolate?” tone works fine, as does the “ice cream” yell – perhaps something in that range would work well.
A waist. I know this is a big request but it is one I have been dreaming of for some time – I seem to have lost my waist. I last saw it at some point during the 2nd month of pregnancy. I have tried to find it on a few occasions but my belief in recycling gets in the way. I find it difficult to let the kids leftover crisps, chocolates, toasties and fried chicken tenders go to waste. A flatter belly with a little waist definition would suffice, failing that an inbuilt aversion to all things sweet and tasty or a miracle diet I could stick to.
A trip to the toilet and a bubble bath alone. Please, could you tweak the settings in my kid’s brain so they no longer find Mummy’s toilet habits or bathing activities exciting? They are 4 now so interest in me peeing is starting to subside, but I haven’t managed a bath without an audience for years. Just a little time to soak in a formula not labelled “no tears” would be heaven.
New souls for my feet. My poor feet are buggered. I have trodden on so many die-cast cars, lego blocks and miscellaneous sharp items hidden in the shaggy style rug that I have very little feeling left in either foot. A spanky new set of feet, ideally ones that can also run a little faster attached to legs with the strength to carry two screaming pre-schoolers from a tantrum in the supermarket, would be fabulous.
Chocolate flavoured vegetables. Could you please have a word with your mate nature and bung me a few chocolate flavoured veggies? At the moment broccoli or any other green vegetable is considered evil. No matter what I do to try and convince my boy’s that a pea is harmless, they protest so much that it gives me migraines. For the sake of my sanity and their health, a supply of chocolate flavoured greens would be excellent.
Time to shop. Mr. Claus, I’m in desperate need a new wardrobe. I’m not asking you to buy one for me (although that would indeed be nice), but just for the time to go shopping by myself or with a friend. My shopping trips alone with my boys are hellish. They hide under racks, open the doors of the changing room whilst I’m semi-naked, take off in different directions and pull the toggles of the drawstring mummy pants I normally buy -shopping for me is a hit, run and hope it fits later affair. I’d simply like the time to browse shops in a mall at leisure (preferably not on a feeling fat day), and take time to find togs that look good and fit properly. I’d also love to locate a range of crayon, spill and stainproof clothing in stylish designs…but I digress.
Well, St. Nick, that’s it. I’m sure you are far too busy trying to decipher my son’s intricate drawing of what he wants for Christmas and the accompanying instructions on what Transformer is best. I will totally understand if you are still miffed with me and my failure to believe for so many years. If that’s the case, just the normal PJ’s, slippers and cleverly disguised bottle of plonk will do just fine 🙂
Yours as always,
Hopeful Mum xx
P.S. I would be eternally grateful if you could ignore Dominik’s request for a puppy. Cute as they are, over the years I have adopted three stray cats, deal with two hectic young boys and a stressed-out hubby on a daily basis and feed an army of ants floor crumbs regularly – I do not need to scoop any more poop or mop up any more mess just yet. Thanks 😉
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