All I want for Christmas is:
A full night of sleep. This includes falling into bed at 8:00 p.m. with my coziest pajamas on and a good book in hand, reading myself to sleep and not having to get up to soothe any bad dreams or rock a refusing-to-sleep baby. It also includes sleeping past 5:00 a.m. and being able to slowly wake up instead of being woken out of a dead sleep that leaves me in a drugged-like state for the rest of the day.
A new min-van. One that does not leak oil, smell like gas, or have permanent stains of only heaven-knows-what on the floors and seats. A van that does not need car repairs every other month, one that starts on cold mornings, and does not overheat on hills in the summer. Oh, and a personal DVD at each child’s seat and my own five-slot CD player, complete with headphones to drown out the crying, would be lovely.
A long, hot, uninterrupted shower. A shower in which I am not scrambling to get washed and rinsed as fast as I can before the Cheerios on the high chair tray — which has been dragged into the bathroom for supervision purposes — run out and screaming and head banging commence. A shower that could be so long and steamy, the hot water runs out and my skin is wrinkled like a prune. Mmmmmm! Pure bliss!
An afternoon of reading or watching some favorite movies. An afternoon that would consist of laying in one spot without having to move to fill a sippy cup, change a diaper, break up a fight, or clean up an overflowing toilet.
A date with my husband. You know, the like-it-was-before-marriage date where he surprised me with major romance and we just sat with hands entwined, staring at each other, all while kissing in such a way as to make our fellow patrons nauseated. A meal at a restaurant in which I am not holding down a baby trying to squirm our of her high chair and cutting up bite-sized pieces of food, while my delicious meal finds itself on the floor because overeager hands thought it was something “pitty, pitty” to play with.
The magical disappearance of those unwanted pounds. No working out (because who has time) or food deprivation required. Just a simple melting away of the excess weight that leaves clothes too tight and uncomfortable. As they melt away, muscles emerge, ridding the body of unwanted cellulite and giving me a toned appearance that Denise Austin would be jealous of.
New clothes. Clothes to fit my cute, toned body after I lose my weight. Clothes which are not stained, torn, or have come from my husband’s closet. Something along the lines of cute little yoga pants that make me feel half-way dressed up while being at home all day, but could quickly double quite nicely for a run to the store without making me look like I came from a war zone and am so obviously wearing my husband’s sweats.
A makeover. One that doesn’t make me a stranger to my children, but one that puts a bit of spark into my love life with my husband. It doesn’t have to be dramatic, just different than the same old, same old me.
Family members who grasp the concept of a mess and pick up after themselves. Cupboard doors closed, refrigerated food put away, spills wiped up, and the dish rag rung out and hung up.
A dog that walks itself, poops in out-of-the-way places where I don’t have to deal with it, and that wipes its feet before it comes back into the house. Once back in the house, this same dog will behave quietly and calmly, sleeping only in its designated spot, never barking, and never, ever climbing up onto the couch.
Children who only adore and love each other. No screaming, bloody noses, scratched faces, or black eyes. Just peaceful, loving interaction between my dear little ones, as they say things like, “May I please play with your toy Tommy?” “Oh sure Suzie! Here you are!”
A clothing service that mails new clothes to my home in my children’s sizes, based on my preferences. This would eliminate daylong shopping sprees with kids pouting, “I hate that! It makes me look stupid!” and trying to drag the entire clan from store to store, searching for the best deals. With a service like this, the new clothes would come right on time, in the right sizes, and there would be no hassle involved. (Except, of course, the kids disliking them, but since my wish list includes the best behaved children in the world who love everything I ever pick out for them, this would no longer be an issue.)
Fifty-two weeks worth of a weekly massage and spa treatment, no cost involved. I’m talking the hour-long massage, the sauna, the facial treatment, the foot massage, and the manicure and pedicure. All while sipping a glass of wine and listening to soothing music.
A year’s worth of Gevalia coffee and Godiva chocolates delivered to my door weekly, again at no cost to me. This chocolate would not contain any calories because I don’t want to gain back any of that weight I lost.
To go the bathroom alone. By this I mean that I actually get to walk into the bathroom without dragging a child on my leg and I get to lift the toilet seat and sit down without a child trying to throw things into the bowl before I find my place. To do my business and then get up, turn around slowly, and flush the toilet, instead of trying to figure out how I’m going to stand up, remove fingers, and close the lid before a hand finds its way into the less-than-ideal toilet water. This would be a dream!
Ahhhh. It’s fun to dream isn’t it?
What’s on your wish list?