Dear Father Christmas,
So it’s been a long time since I asked you for anything. I think the last time would have been along the lines of a twirly curl Barbie and a broken arm please. (I was desperate for a broken arm, plaster and a sling for years on account of all the attention it would buy me. I know.)
So I figure since it’s been that long and everyone else around here (well 3 little people at least) is making demands on you, it wouldn’t hurt to pop my requests on the bandwagon to the North Pole. So here goes…
1) Please can you give all the world leaders and politicians 3 great big piles of common sense, kindness and intelligence? To make room for them, feel free to take away their egos, as well as any extreme or irrational belief deriving from anything other than common sense, kindness or intelligence.
2) Please can you give everyone who needs it some gratitude and perspective? People seem a bit deficient these days. I mean once children were asking you for an orange and a 9c reader. Now they get screechy if they don’t some sort of devicey shite or a jet ski. They need reminding how lucky they are to have skin. Or something.
3) On that note, please can you rid the world of allergies and eczema? Pretty soon I am going to scratch my skin right off and then you’ll be obliged to give me a latex onesie to live in as well as a jet ski (I don’t want one but having no skin would probably make me eligible). It’s a selfish request but I figure it’ll be helping a myriad of itchy souls around the world. Seriously, life’s too short for itchy. And to rid the world of allergy means that we can put the nuts back in the lunch boxes. Such handy little nutritious snacks all but banished from our children’s lives. (And BTW if anyone out there can fix my eczema I hereby pledge to write a song about you and shamelessly plug you at least once in every post I write for a whole year.)
4) Please can you give my kids a grow up button? Then I’d be able to press it on occasions when I think how nice it would be to just go out to dinner with my family and have animated, stimulating conversation that doesn’t consist of, “BE QUIET” or “SIT DOWN”, “WHERE ARE YOUR MANNERS?” or “That’s IT, we’re going home.” And you know, sometimes I just need to get places, like out of the house or from the car to the shop without someone losing a shoe or having to play with some gravel. I promise not to overuse the button (much).
5) And if you have any spare patience floating around, I would do really well for some. You’d make 3 little people and a tall man very happy. An example of why I need patience: Today, wrapping presents…
“Oh”, thinks I, “Wrapping presents together is a lovely family Christmas activity for a rainy day (where’s god damn summer anyway?)”. Let’s put some carols on and get our wrap happening. A fight quickly ensues, over the sticky tape, followed by a protracted and heated game of “Moi scissors, no moi scissors”, me shouting, “Someone’s going to get stabbed and bleed all over the presents and it’s MY not MOI!” and my good sunglasses somehow getting wrapped up to give to Izzy from daycare. All the while there’s the allocated card writer on repeat saying, “How do you spell Merry?” and some fucker on the I-pod singing, “Here we are as in olden days, Happy golden days of yore.” Then someone schreeches about getting a paper cut and suddenly there’s me, snap-changing from festive ol’ Mum to shrill and, “Bugger off the lot of you, all I want for Christmas is a nanny and a time machine so I can bugger off back to the golden free days of bloody yore.”
See, patience required.
6) And can you please chuck a little reminder about organ donation into everyone’s stocking this year? In the absence of organ donation being as it should be – an opt out thing as opposed to an opt in, it needs pretty constant hammering home. Just a little a stocking filler will be enough, a fridge magnet that says, “Register as a donor then TALK TO YOUR FAMILIES. Save Lives” Or “Recycle yourself”. Or something. And a bit of a spiel about how everyone has the capability to save up to 7 lives as an organ donor. How cool’s that? You don’t even have to do any running into burning buildings or jumping aboard runaway buses or anything. Plus bits of you get to live on, as heroes.
7) Finally, and only if all that’s just way too easy for you, then I’d like a small bag of milkos, a magazine and a night away with my husband. Not all at once though.
Thank you very much and take care.
Love Meg
PS I’ll leave you out a rum ball and a small helping of chia seeds. I saw you in the shopping centre last week and I’m thinking you should leave the rum ball.
PPS Are you an organ donor? You should be, what with all those frisky reindeer and chimney sashaying.
PPPS Here are some home made yous – thought they might please you. “Santa’s the best”, says 7 year old Ed. xx
Green is nice in a pant.
Categories: MUMblings, Uncategorized
Tags: allergies, Christmas, Christmas cheer, Dear Father Christmas, Dear Santa, eczema, Father Christmas, Festive, gratitude, organ donation, Parenting, Santa Clause, wrapping presents
megoracle.com 
I love this Meg, Merry Christmas!
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Thanks Sara. You too.
Both of those jolly old elves (elfs?) have black eyes! Is that a warning as to what might happen if there is no jet ski forthcoming?
Jeff I suspect the children organised blindfolds so they couldn’t see any naughty going on.