Friday, December 17, 2010

Dear Santa (2010) Part I:

Finally, a Santa after my own heart. 
Must be the mediocre version.

I know it’s a little late to be writing you, but I figure with all your magic you won’t have any problem getting this by December 24th—your busiest workday of the year (unlike my life, which is hectic everyday). I want you to know that I do love you, in all your happy splendor, even if we do have a slightly contentious relationship.

Honestly, Santa, I’m a little annoyed with you. Every year my children sit down to write their Christmas wish list, with their biggest, most expensive request going to you. Why is this? Because you are Santa and you have no budget constraints since your indentured servants elves make all your toys (and electronic gadgets) there in your toasty sweatshop workshop. 

This is a problem for me fat man, because my husband and I don’t get to take credit for scrimping and saving for the “big gifts.” After ripping open their American Girl Dolls, or Nintendo Game Systems, or POOL TABLES for heaven’s sake, our children are shouting, “Thanks Santa!” into the air, (like you can even hear them) while we take credit for the underwear, socks, and functionally warm Christmas sweatshirts. It’s like thanking a Unicorn for knocking out the mortgage. I’m getting tired of letting you take all the credit for my husband’s paycheck and my shopping efforts. Thankfully, you don’t wrap your presents (at least at our house) so I don’t have to do that for you too. (Because finding a wrapping paper that only you have, is getting to be a little difficult too.)

But worse than that Santa, I find myself doing all kinds of things to keep my children believing in you and the magic of the season. How’s that for crazy? I want my children to believe the impossibility that all things are possible. That anything can happen. Paper gingerbread men really can turn into REAL gingerbread cookies on Christmas morning, simply because you willed it. That you can always find us, even if we travel on Christmas Eve, lock all the doors and window tight, or have a fire raging in the fireplace. I perpetuate the myths of the season because seeing that sparkle of hope in my children’s eyes is worth not getting credit for having to take a second mortgage out on the house to pay for “your” gifts. Because Santa…

I lost two believers this year. I know my son knows because now he always refers to you in “air quotes” when others aren’t around. My middle daughter knows too, but she hasn’t come right out and admitted it. We dance around the topic with our usual lies; she’s waiting for me to slip and out you as a farce. But I won’t do it. I won’t say those words until she asks me point blank, and even then I’ll give her another chance by asking, “Are you sure you really want to know?” Of course by that time, they already do know. It’s a little sad for me to know my kids are getting older and skeptical now; a step away from the jaded adults we all become when we know how Christmas really works. 

The good news is that I still have one believer left in the house…my three-year-old daughter who barely understands your story and shtick. We’re all starting to fill her in now on how you work, and I can see the excitement budding in her eyes. So when I asked her what she wanted you to bring her, do you know what she said?

“Coloring books. The big kind.”

Yes. Isn’t that beautiful!? She hasn’t figured out to ask for a TV or a cell phone or a convertible Volkswagen Bug yet (the newly designed 2012 version), taking cues from her big brother and sister. She asked for floor-sized coloring books. And do you know what you are bringing her? Well, of course you do. You’re Santa. I’m betting you’re going to throw in a pack of her own mini markers too, because you are good like that and think of everything.

So I’m focusing on that this year Santa. That my youngest believer-in-you still wants the little things, and is happy with big white pages with dark black lines that she can color. I’m happy to let you take credit for this one. I didn’t have to get a holiday paper route to pay for this gift.

What do my son and daughter want for Christmas, you ask? Or me or my husband? Well, it’s not a very long list Santa, but the items are pricey. I’ll be getting back to you with those items in the next day or two. Right now I have to work on writing more website copy so I can invoice my client and have money to make the higher payments on my credit card. Until you get my next installment letter, continue enjoying your steaming lattes and packing on the pounds while Mrs. Clause waits on you hand and foot. One of these days I'm going to have to write her a letter too...

Sincerely,

Rachel G.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

You make me laugh and cry at the same time. I just keep saying, "So true, so true!" Thanks for making me feel like a better person for having spent 5 minutes with you.
Jusy

Rachel said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Rachel said...

Jusy,
You are welcome! Any happy tears you can shed over my parenting misfortunes are encouraged! It's wayyy better than shedding them over your own! And it's always nice to have that one mom you can point fingers at and think to yourself, "Sheesh. At least I'm not like her."

jelly beans said...

how very true!

greetings from Barcelona.
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