All This Mom Wants for Christmas

All This Mom Wants for Christmas

Dear Santa,

I have been an incredibly good girl this year. I haven't accidentally killed or maimed my children, I steam cleaned the carpets at least one time, I do the dishes every damn day, and I put up with tantrums of the most tiring sort with at least a 30-percent patience ratio. I didn't once sell the kids to the circus or package them up to send to New Zealand. We're all still here and breathing, which makes me pretty much the best mom ever.

That being the case, there are just a few things I want this Christmas:

1) No more candy canes.

Candy Canes

For the love of Santa Claus, enough with the candy canes. It's only December 4th and if I never see a sticky, messy, getting-stuck-in-my-carpet stick of goo, it will be too soon. First of all, what the hell is with that wrapping? It's too tight. My kids can't do it themselves, so I have to get my hands all sticky and gross trying to do it for them (because let's face it, I just don't have the dexterity yet to open a full-sized candy cane). Second, they're too big. My kids will eat the whole thing and ask for a second, but, really, do they need the whole thing? No. The combination of their size and tight wrapping means they break, usually right at the hook there. And this means tears. Because God forbid my children eat broken candy canes (that are just going to break in their mouths in a second anyway). Enough, I say. Enough.

2) More palatable carols in malls, on car radios and anywhere I don't have a choice of music.

Seriously, there are millions of lovely Christmas songs, instrumentals, hymns, and the like. Do I really need to hear the one where Dean Martin roofies the girl when she wants to go home again? Or Christmas Shoes? You want me to cry on Christmas? Cruel world. What about A Christmas Song, Let It Snow, It Must Have Been the Mistletoe, or how about that one where the girl goes back to the store for cranberry sauce and finally gets a date?

3) No more lies.

I mean, it's not enough that I'm telling my kids a big man dressed in red breaks in by magically sliding down a chimney and gives them oodles of presents every year? No, now I have to explain how he gets into our condo since we don't have a chimney. As of yesterday, actually, we have about twenty chimneys. You get your choice. Because air vents are now chimneys. Thanks a lot. And I have to explain to them how you can be at the mall and at the North Pole. And how you get to every child in one night. I know these are age-old complaints, but they're worth complaining about again. I'm a shit liar. There's no way I'm going to be able to keep this up, and the year I fail will be a tough Christmas indeed.

4) A sense of giving and Christmas cheer.

If I have to explain to my children one more time that we are going to the store to buy presents for other people and not them, I might be the one throwing a tantrum in the middle of Macy's.

5) Nix the Christmas list.

On top of all the lying lies I'm telling, now I'm faced with kids who know they can tell Santa exactly what they want. This sets up unrealistic expectations don't you think? I remember last Christmas. It sucked. And that was before they had specific wishes. They just couldn't handle getting a bunch of stuff all at once. So, yeah, totally, let's add ways to piss them off on Christmas Day.

For instance, Natalina wants a real horse, Dulce wants a grand piano, and I want children who are six-years-old and reasonable.

I guess no one is getting what they really want this Christmas, eh?

 

Photo Credit: epw.

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