Dear Santa,
I know grown-ups don't usually write to you, but neither do they normally sit on your knee without a child in attendance. (I was 21, my sister was 15, we thought it was a laugh. I'm still not sure that it was kosher for you to pinch us both on the bum...)
Anyhow, rather than writing to you asking for lots of lovely new stuff, I thought I would drop you a line letting you know what I received this Christmas. A change is as good as a holiday, right? And goodness knows, a bloke with your job needs a holiday at this time of the year...
I must have been a rather good girl this year (or rather better than I thought, at any rate), because this year for Christmas I received:
1. A Christmas Eve breakfast at the local playground / leash-free park which allowed both the kids and Archie to blow off enormous amounts of steam and began our Christmas festivities on a lovely, family-friendly note before the thunderstorms washed everything away. Also, there were no breakfast dishes to wash and it was too early to need the whole sunscreen-and-keep-your-hat-on palaver. Score.
2. A Christmas Eve barbie at Narnie and Pa's house, which I enjoyed immensely. The kids herbed around madly and were spoiled rotten by Narnie, Pa, Uncle Joshie and Sonia until about 9pm. Which meant that by the time we arrived home they were hell-bent on getting into bed before the big man in red arrived (To be totally precise, Jack careened in through the front door, flinging shorts and tshirts off and pyjamas on, and squealed, "No time for a book tonight!! We have to go to sleep!! We have to be asleep!!") I love bedtime on Christmas Eve.
3. The joyous experience of being the mother of three young children on Christmas morning. I know that when I am a very old lady, I will look back on these years as being the best of my life. I won't remember breaking up 20 squabbles a day, or having toddler tantrums in the trolley at Coles, or the never-ending grind of washing dishes and clothes and the floor.
But I will remember this morning, with the whoops of glee upon spying the bulging sacks, and the delirious ripping and tearing of wrapping paper. I will remember Jack playing for hours with his Finn McMissile car (or as he says, Finn Missmissile) and his Lego. I will remember having two blonde, curly-headed daughters, both with new baby dolls (promptly named Chloe and Emily), changing their nappies, feeding them with bottles, and making beds on every flat surface for their babies.
I will remember Phoebe proudly helping me to decorate the gingerbread house to take to Grandma's house. I will remember the Mouse prancing around in her new, purple and orange flouncy "danshing" (all dresses, particularly fairy dresses or tutus, are called "danshing". As is the act itself, and any music that could be danced to. Not confusing at all.)
I will remember my children giving each other little gifts, and hugging each other as they exchanged them. I will remember this day, with all three of my children believing in Christmas magic with all of their baby hearts. I will remember this day simply because it was the Christmas morning I have dreamed of since I first imagined being a mum.
4. A delicious Christmas lunch cooked entirely by my wonderful mother-in-law. I hope she knew how much I enjoyed the meal that took her hours to prepare, even if I couldn't eat very much (Well, you see Santa, the one thing I'm rather ungrateful for this Christmas is my misbehaving large intestine...it doesn't allow me to eat much without complaining loudly. It would prefer if I didn't eat at all, but unfortunately my stomach insists on being hungry at regular intervals. I don't suppose next Christmas you could bring me an entire digestive system that gets along?? No?? *sigh*) I just enjoyed sitting back and watching the melee of kids, uncles and wrapping paper that personifies Christmas Day.
5. Right now, I am scrunched on the couch next to a teetering pile of new toys and books. There is an enormous pirate tent in front of me. Archie and Daisy are snoring on the floor. Ernie and Bella are curled up together on the bed. The kids are all in various positions of exhausted sleep. And Christian and I are waiting for our own personal annual tradition: National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. I may not be able to scoff mince pies, Christmas pudding, chocolate, champagne, wine, turkey...(ok, now I'm seriously depressing myself) like everyone else, but I can sit with a cup of tea, snuggle up to my hubby, and watch some truly dodgy 80's telly on Christmas Night. I couldn't ask for anything more.
So Santa, as you can see, I have been royally spoiled this Christmas. And if I may be cheeky for a moment, I was wondering if I could put in an early order for 2012:
* A house that we can actually MOVE IN TO. I mean, being at lock-up is great and all, but an inhabitable home would be even better. Dontcha think?
* An intestine transplant, or failing that, a personality transplant (so that I can be one of those people that don't want to eat. It would be way easier.) Or maybe just sew my mouth shut.
* Another Christmas with three magic-hungry sprogs in the house. Let's face it - Christmas with little kids is the best. And we parents need the memories of the Christmases with small kiddies to cope with the teenage-years Christmases that lie ahead...do they even make Emo Santa sacks?? Note to self: find out before Jack begins applying eyeliner...
Thank you Santa. Give my best to Mrs. Claus and the elves. I promise to be a good girl this year.
Lots of love from Salamander xxxxx
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