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Tuesday, December 13, 2011
A Mom’s Letter to Santa
My cousin Amanda is like my evil twin sister. OK, maybe not evil - though she has her moments - but she’s definitely my total opposite.
Well, she was, until she became a mom.
She was the City Mouse; I was the Country Mouse.
I’d visit her in Chicago where she would scoff at my wardrobe and promptly take me shopping at stores I’d never heard of, nor could I pronounce the name. I once came home wearing a green “pleather” jacket.
She would come to Ohio and I would drag her to the Clark County Fair and make her wear rubber boots and help me wash my pigs and horse. She was thrilled (not really), and yes, I took joy in watching her gag reflex kick in while mucking stalls.
Then we grew-up - so to speak - began our careers, and even married. Shockingly, both of us married international men: our first thing in common. Ever.
But, I jumped on the Mom-Wagon first … and second … and third.
When Amanda joined me on the Motherhood journey, she was a career-driven Marketing Queen living in South Florida.
By the time my daughter came along in 2009 I had gone from full-time, to part-time to “working from home.”
Amanda, like me, continued working after her son was born. Admittedly, although I wouldn’t change a thing now, I envied her and her daily work routine; the “adult time” and getting to “use your brain” for something more than deciding between PB&J or a hotdog for lunch. I mean, I did go to college hoping to have a career afterwards.
When her husband’s job required them to move, Amanda decided to stay home with their son. I worried, remembering my own transition to stay-at-home-mom; major adjustment.
But, then she humbled me with these words in a Mom’s Letter to Santa she wrote herself.
“Dear Santa, Now that I’m a mommy at home, please stuff my stocking with the items below:
I no longer need nail polish remover, I’m not painting my nails, I’m cleaning up boogers. So instead of Red OPI, please stuff my stocking with toys that stop tantrum cries.
I traded my high heels for Pumas and flip-flops, now I need lots of Tide pens for cleaning my tops. Anything created by Procter and Gamble that I can shove in my purse; too bad you can’t stuff my stocking with a nurse.
I remember small boxes with diamonds or pearls, this year Santa it’s a whole different world— instead of studs, I’d really love some killer earplugs.
Forget Mac lipstick, please replace with eye-concealer and a new diaper-wipe case.
I hope you don’t take my new list the wrong way; I really do love staying home every day.
My nails aren’t filed and my hair’s a mess, but of all my jobs this is really the best.
After the boogers are gone, I get kisses from my baby and he sings me love songs.
Never after a rough meeting was I ever consoled with the loving hugs I get from my 2-year old.
So this year Santa I’ve already got the best gift —- to spend my days watching my little boy grow, and seeing him play in his first Christmas snow.”
Though Amanda’s sweatpants are much more stylish than mine, I’d say we officially (finally) have a few more things in common. Next week: My personal letter to Santa
Contact this contributing writer at Motherhoodcolumn@yahoo.com or facebook.com/MotherhoodCTC.
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