Santa, listen up. Here’s the deal.
First Posted: 12/22/2014
I hate to start this letter on a negative note, but, I’ve been thinking, and I’ve decided that mothers get the crappy end of the candy cane every Christmas, hands down.
Ask Mrs. Claus. I bet she’s sick to death of running the show and getting none of the credit. Because we both know, Santa, that since you’re an m-a-n, there’s no way in the North Pole that you’re able to organize the whole Christmas enchilada on your own. It’s not how you and all your little man-elves are wired. You can’t keep track of styles, sizes, requests and directions without female assistance. No way.
How about letting the missus jingle the bells, or eat the cookies or co-pilot the sleigh once in a while? Speaking on behalf of the gender that basically runs the human race, we’re all a little tired of doing it all, and having to stay behind in the kitchen to finish the biscotti and wrap the crap, while you’re out having all the fun, orbiting the world and probably enjoying a little nightcap in every state capital.
Mothers spend an average of 18 hours a day the week prior to Christmas, synchronizing all aspects of “The Extravaganza.” Think about how much is expected of us year after year versus what the male in the home is expected to accomplish. We buy and wrap at least 46 gifts plus the over-the-river-and-through-the-woods cookie craziness, plus the food prep, plus clean up, plus medicating ourselves…the list goes on.
Conversely, my husband needs to worry about one thing: my gift.
Speaking of which…
I’m scared. Last Sunday, I noticed he was getting very animated as he sorted through the circulars. I truly think I saw an actual light bulb illuminate above his thinning pate. He was rubbing his hands together and muttering: ”HeeHeeHee. That’s it. Perfect.” When he was through self-congratulating his inventiveness, I sauntered over. I was a little thrilled. I know there were circulars from jewelry stores in that pile. Then – I found what intrigued him and this is what it said: “Ace Hardware Holiday Spectacular”. I slumped. So, this is the way it’s going to go this year. We’re taking the nuts and bolts route and not the white gold and diamonds route. Okay, Santa. I’m looking at this glass of eggnog as half full. At least he didn’t find the ad that says:”This Year, Give the Gift of Martial Arts” because trust me, he would have classified that gift idea as a solid home run.
Anyway, all I’m asking for this year is a little appreciation and maybe one gift that doesn’t require an extension cord or a blown fuse. I know, ‘tis the season for giving and not receiving, but really, ask any mother you know, (including your own), this is, pretty much, protocol all year round for us. Please Santa, just make my husband stay clear of the circular saws and rotating sanders and if it’s not too much trouble, can you also deliver the liposuction and cleaning lady I’ve been requesting for the last ten years? Enough is enough. Pretty soon my belly will be mopping the floor and I won’t need either.
And speaking of rocks…my ring size is a 5. Wink. Wink.