Something New and My Dear Santa Letter

Yesterday the man and I got a new table! I was/am so excited. I have been looking for months for just the right one. I have been pretty much living a hand-me-down life for the past 10 years. I have had all hand-me down furniture because we do not like to go in debt for things like that. Well we have finally decided that we could work a new dining set into the budget. I finally got to pick out something for myself! Here is a picture of the beautiful table we got...

and a couple of how the table looks now, after meeting my children less than 24 hours after putting it up.

I have to always remind myself how much I love my children, and that they are just on loan to me from God. My kids are more important than a brand new table right? Sigh. Oh well. I really can never have anything new.

Here is my letter to santa this year. I would love to take the credit for writing it, but I did not. Someone e-mailed it to me (thanks mom). But I am putting my name in the "from" part and sending it off asap! I had to change a few things to fit my number of kids, but I didn't make too many changes, because it seemed to be written just as I would have written it, the exact things I want. So here it is...

Dear Santa,

I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned and cuddled my four children on demand, visited their doctor's office more than my good friends, sold sixty-two cases of candybars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground and figured out how to attach nine patches onto 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 enought to carry a screaming toddler out of the candy aisl in the grocery store. I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my third pregnancy.

If you're hauling big ticket items this year I'd like a car with fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music; a television that doesn't broadcast 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 I could use a talking daughter doll that says, "Yes, Mommy," to boost my parental confidence, along with three potty-trained toddlers, four kids who 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 Tebetan 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 (on a good day).

And please don't forget the Playdoh travel pack, the hottest stocking stuffer this year for mothers of pre-schoolers. It comes in three fluorescent colors and is guaranteed to crumble on any carpet making the in-laws' house seem just like mine. If it's too late to find any of these products, I'd 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 container.

If you don't mind I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much to declare Ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely. It ould be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family; or if my toddlers didn't look so cute sneaking downstairs to eat contraband ice-cream in his pajamas at midnight.

Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing 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 by the fire 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. One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in Santa.