Dear Santa

Dear Santa:

You might remember me, I came to visit you at your San Diego workshop last Friday. I was the woman with the two-year old triplets who screamed blue bloody murder when they saw you, and created such a stir that people within earshot stopped their shopping and peered their heads inside your cottage to see what was wrong. "Was Santa torturing the children?!"

Certainly you remember us. We came to see you last year, too - and similar to last year - our children scared you almost as much as you scared them.

This year, while we stood in line, our children tried to pull off as many ornaments from your lovely decorated trees as they could get their little hands on. When they weren't diving for ornaments, they were trying to eat the pseudo holly berries on the garland around the door. When we finally arrived for our picture, and my little girls realized that you were real, and not some huge stuffed Santa like they've seen around our house, they grabbed their brother around the neck and pulled him so hard that all three of them fell in to a heap on the floor, screaming "No! No! No Sansa!!!"

Yes, we were the family that finally consented to a group picture only after the photographer recommended it for the tenth time. I was apprehensive to have my picture taken because I have honestly been too busy to shower for two days? three days? a day or so. But, I was really glad that I decided at the last minute - before dashing out the door in a crazed state to the mall - to put on a Christmas sweater (and convinced my husband to do the same) in the off-chance we all had to be in a picture together. It's interesting that I remembered to put on a festive sweater, but didn't remember the diaper bag that was sitting by the front door.

You smiled at us when we were leaving. Remember? Your belly jiggled like a bowl full of jelly when our tiny tots, who moments earlier had almost stopped breathing they were crying so hard, graciously blew you kisses and waved "Ho, Ho, Ho! Bye, bye Sansa. Bye, bye!"

Anyway. Now that you know who I am - and you had a 7 minute glimpse in to what my life is like - I wanted to write you a note and see if perhaps The Father of Christmas could spot me a few things this year.

First, I would like to ask that my 26-month old son stop using his crib as the palette for which he exercises his artistic license with the contents of his diaper. This was an absolutely horrible thing to walk in on yesterday and the fact that he was able to manuever his way around the most secure of clothing - and was having such a great time - makes me fear that this will not be the last time he decides to do his best impression of Monet.

Second, I would like to ask for another 2, 4, 6 10 hours in the day. I've read that people shouldn't complain about how little time they have in life, considering we have the same number of hours in the day as Alexander Fleming, Galileo and Marie Curie. I'm not even going to try drawing a parallel between the importance of discovering penicilin, inventing the telescope or nuclear physics and say, doing a load of laundry. However, not a single one of the aforementioned ever had two-year old triplets. If just one of those great minds had been the parent of toddler triplets, I think that they would have used some of their time wisely to discover a way of keeping their children securely contained in a stroller, and hence preventing them from eating popcorn off the floor in Target. (On second thought, it's probably a good thing we have penicilin after that experience...)

Third, if at all possible, I would like to ask that the Christmas gifts we were up ordering until 2 AM this morning, be delivered before the middle of February. It was only after I filled my virtual shopping cart to the brink with all of the items necessary to convert our garage to "A Children's Playground Fantasy" ... and shelled out the equivalent of a mortgage payment and a half ... that I received the message none of the items would ship for 5 weeks. (See, I really need those extra 10 hours in the day. Theoretically, I could have completed my Christmas shopping back in October...)

Fourth, I would like to ask that our children PLEASE remain in their cages cribs. If that's not possible, I would ask that the only time they attempt climbing out of their cribs is when Charlie and I are wide awake or at least, semi-conscious. It's preferrable that they not pull an escape after their parents have only had three hours of sleep from staying up until 2 AM Christmas shopping. I've decided nothing wakes you up from a sound sleep faster - or in a more panicked state - than having a little finger jutted up your nose at 5 AM and a teensy voice sing "Mommy, jooce!"
Fifth, I would like to ask that if the UPS drivers have a package to drop off ... in the middle of nap time ... they kindly leave it on the step and not ring the bell THREE times and bang on the door like our house is on fire. OK, I wasn't planning to ask for that, but it happened not once, but twice today.

Sixth, we really need a bigger house, a maid or two, a cook, and a personal assistant. We've come to the conclusion that we've outgrown this house. I'm not entirely sure where the new baby is going to go come July - the only place that I can think of is in our new roll-out pantry nestled between the Kraft Macaroni and Cheese and peanut butter. So not only do we need more space, but we need professional help with the preparation of decent meals. Surely toddlers can't live off of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese and peanut butter alone. Can they?!

Seventh, as you complete your world-wide trip this Christmas Eve, could you please keep your eyes peeled for Bunny? He has been MIA since Friday and I fear he was thrown in to the trash can by one of our toddlers - who adore throwing things away - and hauled off to the dump. Fortunately for us, we have a back-up Lamb that Elizabeth has moderately accepted, but our heart aches for The Original Bunny.

Now, because I'm asking for a lot ... I also want to give some thanks for things received.

I know you have connections, so I'd appreciate you passing on my sincere gratitude to the Powers That Be for the little voice that whispered in my ear as I was ordering 150 pictures online for our Christmas card ... that maybe I ought to send in the picture of our family with Santa - in addition to the picture we took, ourselves. Not many rational people would attempt something like trying to get 3-2 year olds and a dog to pose for a picture taken by a camera on a tripod with the timer set.

But we did. At least 40 times.

And although the picture that I had on my camera looked pretty good - the pictures that were developed by the Costco Photoshop didn't look so great. So thank you for not having the picture below, be the only one available for our 150 Christmas cards.

I'd also like to thank the Powers That Be for the little voice that whispered in my ear to check the weight of the 150 Christmas cards that Charlie and I were up finishing until 3 AM on Sunday morning. If it hadn't been for that little voice, I would have had all 150 cards returned for insufficient postage. This year, the fancy designer cards + Christmas letter + picture with Santa wound up costing $0.63 ... a standard stamp AND a post card stamp. I can't tell you what a bummer it would have been if a week from now, I opened the mailbox only to see 150 of OUR cards sitting there.

However ... more than any of those things, I'd like to thank the Powers That Be for making this the best Christmas ever. It is a bit crazy at our house, but being able to see our beautiful children experience the wonder of Christmas ... well, it's positively magical. (The poor baby doll doesn't look to be having too good of a time though, does she?)

Thanks Santa. I promise to leave cookies out on Sunday night ... although ... I might skip adding nuts to the batter, if that's alright with you.

With much love & hopes for a safe flight, Jen