I’m not sure if you remember me? It’s been a few decades since I’ve written, although you are on a first-name basis with my kids. (Thanks again for all the thoughtful presents you’ve managed to bring them over the past 10 years. We all appreciate it. My son in particular is always grateful you seem to look past the days he was “naughty” and focus on majority of times he is “nice”.)
This year however, I’m writing to ask for your help with my own Christmas wish.
I’ve been told it would take a miracle to make my holiday wish come true, and well, you are the one person I know that deals with miracles, who has a mailing address and a Canadian postal code.
All that I want, and probably moms everywhere also hope most for, is World Peace. If that’s too much for one wish, then I will settle for Peace and Quiet. In my own home. For just one whole day over the holidays.
Peace and Quiet, I should explain, is more than just the superficial and short-lived silence that comes when I let the kids babysit themselves with screen time. True Peace and Quiet is another level of mental and emotional respite for moms.
It’s a whole day without fighting, bickering, taunting, teasing, whining, and complaining. It’s a whole day without having to patiently respond to, “I’m bored” or “I’m telling!” or “Awwwwwwwww, no fair!”
Peace and Quiet is also, very importantly, a day when nobody asks mom where any of their things are; whether there is milk in the fridge before looking themselves, or what time soccer starts without a glance at the giant wall calendar (or, just help them remember that it starts at the same time as it has for the last four months!).
Peace and Quiet looks a lot like a Norman Rockwell painting: all cozy and quiet, where we gaze at each other lovingly and respectfully, and feel nothing but gratitude for the many blessings we have.
I understand that this is a big ask, and that I’ve left it rather late, and so it might simply be too late to deliver this particular gift to me. In that case, I’m including a short list of backup wishes off my Christmas list that would make me, or any mom, almost just as happy:
- One whole day where dirty socks find their own way directly into laundry hampers or the washing machine, and none are left on or under the couch, under the dining table or in my bed.
- One splendid and miraculous dinner where I don’t hear any complaint or criticism about what I’ve made. Even better, if you were so inclined, would be if my children ate everything on their plates and asked for more, but hey, I don’t want to be greedy. I’d be happy to just not hear, “This dinner isn’t my favourite” for one night.
- You know what? I think I can be little greedy once a year. Even better than number 2, is if I didn’t have to make the dinner at all. Or plan the meal. Or grocery shop for it. I don’t actually even want to eat it. I’d like to be at a coffee shop or diner by myself, reading a book and drinking a coffee or eating a meal that’s still piping hot with no distraction other than My Own Thoughts.
- Another gift that would knock my socks off, would be if the heaping piles of school work, half-done arts and crafts, library books, pens and markers, open and unopened mail, magazines, dirty dishes and teeny tiny Lego pieces that the dining table hides under, just magically disappeared without my help. A true miracle would be if none of it ever appeared there again.
- Lastly, I would be ecstatic for one holiday break not spent in quarantine, nursing runny noses and sore throats, hacking coughs that keep us up at night, violent gastro-intestinal viruses that make for piles of offensive laundry—or please Santa, just one winter without lice.
Thank you in advance for any help you can provide in making any of my wishes come true this Christmas. I apologize for the long list, but I’ve learned it’s important to give a range of options when asking for these types of miracles.
And if anything I’ve asked for seems confusing or unclear, just show this letter to Mrs. Claus. She’ll know exactly what I mean.
Most sincerely yours,