Entry 34 ~ December 7, 2011
~ Dear Santa
Here is my Christmas list. I have been a good mom this year.
And if I can have #10 on my list, then I will have gotten everything that I really want (well, #3 too).
- I want to sleep through the night, uninterrupted for at least eight hours, at least once in the coming year. And since I've been so good this year, I'd like to sleep past 7am at least monthly.
- I want to use the bathroom all by myself. Without an audience and without anyone pounding on the bathroom door, wanting me, wondering what I am doing, or asking to come in.
- I want Reese to stop pooping her pants.
- I want everyone to sit at the table and eat. And not get up, not throw food, not spill a drink and not drop silverware on the floor. And I want everyone to actually use silverware.
- I want Brody and Reagan to always take their medicine when they are sick. I don't want to beg or plead, and I don't want to disguise medicine in soup, ice cream or any kind of juice.
- I want the windows of my van to stay clean, without fingerprints all over them. And on that note, I want to drive a car again someday.
- I want the toilet to never get clogged again, because someone put too much toilet paper, too many wet wipes or something else that does not belong in a toilet.
- I want all the pillows on the sofa to stay on the sofa, nice and neat. And I don't want to pick crumbs out of the cushions, or feel anything wet or sticky when I sit.
- I want to not twist my ankle(s) on little shoes that have been left in the middle of the living room, dining room, kitchen, on the stairs or all of the above.
- And last but not least, I want all four of my babies to stay just the way they are, innocent and sweet, sticky and sloppy. I want to always think it's funny to stick fruit loops to my face. I want to smell how yummy they are when they emerge from a soapy bath. I want to watch them sleep and kiss them all over their faces. I want to come home from work and be greeted with such glee, as if I've been gone for months. I want Reesie to always say to me, "mommy, you're my best friend."