Straight Talk with Santa

Dear Kris,

I know you get a lot of these letters and I just want to say up front that there is no way that I’m implying that my letter be put before all of those little children in Africa or Iraq. I’m also not suggesting that my problems are worse or even comparable to other human beings’ problems this year.

I’m simply suggesting that if your budget allows for it this year, if there are some extra elves working, that perhaps you could consider our Christmas wish this year.

We would like a new house. Or, rather, to find a new owner for this one.

First, let me start by saying I have always been amazed by that miracle you did on 34th Street. Very impressive. I’m not trying to kiss up. Really.

Second, I know that I haven’t been all good this year. I’ve yelled a lot. I’ve cried a lot – but not nearly as much as last year, I think you’ll agree. I’ve cursed a lot. I’ve been mean to my body. I’ve not been socially, politically active or engaged in my community, unlike past years. There are many things that you know that I haven’t written or talked about, too.

Truth be told – not like I don’t have to tell you this – I’ve just been living.

My daily good this year comes not in forms of what I’ve done for humanity, but for my family.

With that, I thought it would be good to remind you of the past year’s events – so you may keep those in mind as you review your lists in the next several days. My letter highlights particular dilemmas for why we need to move, as well as the challenges we faced this year and how we handled them.

Again, our troubles pale in comparison to everyone else’s so I understand if our wish cannot be met. We will muddle through as we always do.

I’d like to start with why we need to leave this house.

First, we are paying too much to live here. Second, the Da! is gone some very long hours with the commute. Third, need I remind you of The Dead Guy Who Wasn’t? Or the burglary? Or the car theft? Or, Mr. Gross? This doesn’t even count the crack houses that became our neighbors this year. (Oh, and while I’m asking: our police department could use a few more officers.)

To sum up: Moving will benefit our family in many, many ways.

And yet, Santa, I am proud of the mothering I’ve done this year. I learned to walk again after the Dead Guy Who Wasn’t. I have yelled, but I’ve followed up with I’m sorry and I’ve learned – am still learning – how to try and remain calm even when I’ve spent 11 hours on my own for the fifth day in a row and both babies are crying and fighting and throwing their food that I just cooked specifically for them. You know about that whole Zen and Yoga stuff, right?

All of this, of course, doesn’t count the trillion blanket dances I’ve done this year – you know, cover up one toddler, then she stands up as I go to cover up the other one, and vice versa for, say, 20 minutes.

I’d also like to brag about my immense amount of patience when the Play-Doh colors are smashed together. I’ve grown to like the green with the pink. And, while I realize I thought the mealtime issues were hard earlier this year, I now realize that I was just a dumb new mother. Those issues were NOTHING compared to what we deal with now.

Finally, I’d like to finish up by pointing out a few quick statistics: In 24 months, the Da! and I have had five dates. That’s roughly 720 days (17,280 hours) with very little fine dinners and movies or just getting lost in each others’ eyes. Now, I know you believe in the sanctity of marriage so you understand that five dates in two years isn’t much. Surely, at your place, some reindeer are willing to baby-sit for free now and then, right? Sitters – and it’s hard to find one to trust – are expensive when there’s not even a dime leftover for house and car repairs.

Plus, and I’m not sure how many multiples you’ve encountered, but it gets pretty darn stressful around here when both toddlers are fussing and grabbing everything but the kitchen sink off the counters and there is no break. There. Is. Never. A. Break. Santa.

And, you know we need a date when we’ve started saying night-night as we tuck ourselves into bed.

Finally, among those 17,280 hours, there were some tough moments. Like when Jadyn scared us. Or, when Liana's lymph node became infected and we thought she might need surgery. Or her goose egg.

And, Santa, do I really need to mention The Poop story to you?

So, you see, I feel that we deserve to sell this house and move on. And, since you know people, I figure you are our best hope to find a new owner for this house.

Oh, and Santa ... I need you to really consider this letter today.

Namaste.

Shawn

P.S. Just so you know we will probably not put the girls' on your lap this year. I think we're still a bit traumatized by last year's episode. Please do not hold this against us.



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