Christmas Is Coming....

I have an unofficial rule at my house. Ok, it's an official rule. There is no decorating or celebrating the Christmas season in my house until after my birthday. My birthday hasn't come yet.

That doesn't seem to stop anyone else, however. Christmas is coming, and I have proof. It isn't the Costco has had Christmas decorations up since the last week of August. It isn't the Starbucks cup my husband graciously brought me a venti caramel macchiatto in preparation for the Northwestern game this afternoon. (Ok, so not the greatest picture - the wrapper is Christmas and there are snowflakes and reindeer on the cup.)

No, it would be what I've been living in my house daily for the past four days. Thank you, Mom.

Yes, every day since my mom was here on Tuesday, the wee ones have been going through toy catalogues that happened to come in the mail that day and marking the items they "really" want. It's the first request when they get home from school. They go through the same catalogue over and over, checking and rechecking their favored items. Some get added, some get taken off, and some are merely reaffirmed. Again. And again.

On the plus side, I'm pretty sure that writing the letter to Santa is going to be easy for them this year. That letter? It won't be written for a few more weeks, though. After all, I do have this rule in my house....



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Family Taco Night prize pack here
Family pass to the Chicago Toy and Game Fair in Chicago November 20 or 21 here
Activeion ionator HOM $180RV here

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

I've been a very good little girl this year. Or at least, I think I have. I've tried really hard to be a good mommy and make sure I stayed on the "good" list.

I haven't quite figured out what I want for Christmas this year, but I'm working on it, I promise. Last year, you were so nice to me, and I got everything I asked for -- even some things I didn't.

After I finished opening all my presents though, I realized that I didn't feel that I didn't have that happy bubble in my heart that I did when I was younger and got the gifts I coveted. I looked around at my family, and I realized that they and their happiness are what makes me happy. I don't need anything else, and I'm happy with what I have.

It was really kind of a revelation. I want nothing.

So why am I writing to you? I'm not asking for anything. In fact, I'm writing a letter that I'm sure you don't get nearly often enough.

Thank you.

Thank you, Santa for all the you do for all our children. Thank you for the joy and excitement that you bring them every Christmas morning. Thank you for the patience you teach them as they wait for you to come. Thank you for the lesson you teach them in how to deal with disappointment when you don't bring them everything they have.

And thank you for being constant. Thank you for not becoming new and cool and hip like so many treasured friends from Tinker Bell to Mickey Mouse. Thank you for staying child-friendly and for helping to maintain my wee ones' innocence for just a little longer.

This year, I'll leave you a couple extra cookies by the fireplace, and maybe a few more carrots for your reindeer.

Love,



PS If you want to leave a little high quality chocolate under the tree, I wouldn't object. Or some new kitchen gadgets.

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

I know you're getting a ton of letters this time of year, and I'm pretty sure a lot of them are going to be coming from mommies. I'm hoping you have room for one more.

Really, I have a very small request. I'm not asking for jewelry or for personal servants or for anything luxurious even. All I want for Christmas is a good night's sleep. Ok, so maybe that's not such a small request.

Let me explain, Santa. I try. I really do. I lay down in my bed a good nine to ten hours before my alarm is going to go off. That should be plenty of sleep, right? People only need about eight hours, or so I've read. So long as I still remember how to do math, eight is less than both nine and ten. I should be set.

Let's take last night as an example though.

My husband went to bed before I did unfortunately. I could hear him snoring from downstairs, which isn't a good sign. When I turned off my light after reading an article in a magazine, I poked him so he rolled over onto his side instead of his back. And continued snoring. It took awhile for my to fall asleep. Santa, maybe you could help my husband stop snoring while you're at it?

I finally fell asleep, and Mister Man walked in around 11:30. He was crying because his side hurt. I rubbed it sleepily and asked if that felt better. He told me it didn't, so I suggested going potty or taking a drink to see if that helped. He walked into the bathroom and did both. Then he came back to tell me he still hurt. We finally discovered that wearing two pairs of underwear was causing the pain, so he removed one of them and trotted off to bed. I had to deal with the snoring again. Common sense for Mister Man, Santa? A larger bladder? I'm willing to work with you here.

Around 2:30, I was awakened by the snoring again. From a deep and sound sleep. I swear it was vibrating the bed. Needless to say, it took me awhile to fall back asleep after being so rudely pulled from my peaceful slumber. We're back to my husband and the snoring thing again, Santa. Any suggestions?

At 3:26, Little Miss started crying. My husband wasn't moving, so I hopped out of bed to find out what the problem was. She needed a hug from Mommy. I'm guessing it was a bad dream, as she went straight back to sleep. Me, not so much. How about helping Little Miss sleep through the night? Or maybe wave your magic wand and have my husband wake up quicker?

Around 4:30, I was again awakened by the snoring. This time a quick elbow to the ribs silenced it long enough for me to fall asleep. Eventually. Ok, we really need to address this snoring thing, Santa. Seriously.

I heard Mister Man head to the bathroom again -- must have been that late night drink -- around 5:20. Apparently I wasn't so soundly asleep after that last snor-wakening. Yep, a larger bladder is the solution for Mister Man. He didn't even come into our room to announce that he had to go potty. I just heard him pattering down the hall et al.

After that, I was pretty much sunk. I laid awake, counting down from 200 in the hopes that I could fall back asleep. I know you're aware that this is my personal insomnia solver. It would have worked, I think. I was down in the sixties when my husband's alarm went off. He snoozed it, the meanie. It went off again nine minutes louder. Maybe you could bring him an alarm that just reaches out and pokes him. Quietly.

I laid awake and listened to him shower. When he turned the light in the closet on and left the door open so he could find his socks and such, I sighed and tried to roll over. Light is not exactly conducive to sleep for me. Ok, Santa, I know asking for a house that's large enough that the closet is a giant his/hers set next to the bathroom with the door to the hallway where the closets are, but I think that's the solution. See, a good night's sleep is so simple next to this!

By the time I heard the garage door closing, it was beyond hope. I was exhausted, but I knew sleep wasn't coming back to me. I gave up and hauled myself into the shower to start the day about forty-five minutes early.

On the plus side, Santa, I did have one of my most productive days ever. I got so much stuff done. Maybe this whole sleep thing is overrated.

Nope, sorry. I need my sleep. Santa, please, this is the only thing I'm asking for. Take pity on a mom with bags below the bags on her eyes. I promise I'll be a better mom this year if I get more sleep. Just one good night. Pretty please?

Love,



PS I promise I'm making extra yummy cookies for you this year. Not that I'd try to bribe you or anything. That would put me squarely on the naughty list, I know.