Tuesday, December 17, 2013

My letter to Santa this year.

Dear Santa,

Dude. I need your help. This past year has really, seriously sucked. I can’t remember what I asked you for last Christmas, but unless it was death, anxiety, injury and drama, your account got hacked and the devil made your deliveries for you.

So, bygones, right? Are we past all that? Can you be in charge of my Christmas presents this year?

(Oh, and Caroline may NOT have a MacBook Pro and Jack may NOT have a puppy to replace poor departed Bo. Okay? I miss my dog every day but the only silver lining here is that I don’t have dog poop in my back yard for the first time in fourteen years. So let me enjoy the break.)

Ready? Here are the top things I really, really want:

1. Hair that is naturally blonde. I’m so sick and tired of spending exorbitant amounts of time and money on my hair, and I’m not sure I can keep saying the gray that’s coming in is a new and trendy shade of highlights.

2. Magic Santa dust that will instantly vaporize bad moods. Like almost-12-year-old-girl bad moods. Which are constant. And potent. And tiring.

3. I’d really, really, really like to be able to run an eight-minute mile in one of my long races. (I know. That seems a little superficial when we’ve got serious global problems, but I don’t usually ask for much and I’m being indulgent here. Plus, my husband is asking for a mountain house, a truck and a winning lottery ticket, so my list has gotta be easier on the old Claus cash.)

4. Okay, this is silly, but I’d like a Disney Fastpass that works in grocery store lines. Or drugstore lines. Or DMV lines. I’m a terrible waiter and it makes me crabby. And my children find more things to buy when I wait in line, and that makes me crabby too.

5. I would like for calories to not count. I know how many calories are in a glass of wine and that makes me sad, because it can, just a tiny bit, take the joy out of drinking wine. Calories also take the joy out of Cool Ranch Doritos, which I love. And they flat-out ruin eating chocolate truffles. Or bagels, or getting butter on my popcorn. Or eating anything other than salad.

6. A boob job. That should be self-explanatory.

7. Lastly, please find every single person who has been kind to me this year and get them the biggest thing on their list. I’ve needed every hug, every email, every smile, even the people who’ve let me in their lane during traffic. I’d like to know you’ve got their backs.

In return, I’ll make you my kids’ favorite chocolate chip cookies and I’ll leave those big leafy carrots for the reindeer. I’d appreciate it if they didn’t poop (see paragraph above about how dead dog = clean yard). We’ll continue to fervently believe in the magic of Christmas, and I promise to NOT brag about my half-marathon time on Facebook. That’ll be our little secret.

XOXO and safe travels,