Published in the Kearney Hub Newspaper – November 26, 2016.
For weeks now, my kids, husband and extended family have been asking me what I Christmas. And I’m supposed to say, that I’m happy, that I don’t need anything. It’s true, I really don’t need anything other than my sanity.
Regardless of what I say, the kids and the hubby will pool their money and attempt to surprise me with well-intentioned gifts such as pajamas, bath oils, or some kitchen gadget I have zero chance of using correctly before breaking it in the first five minutes.
So here’s the thing, I do want something for Christmas. I want to knock a few items off my “everyday things I have to navigate through without losing it” list.
And if I’m like most women (which I hope I am but I could be wrong), others may appreciate some of the same gifts. So here’s my REAL Christmas list.
– I want every sock in the house, maybe the whole world to find its match and keep it forever.
– I want a couch free of dog fur. I want to be able to wear clothes without white fur floating everywhere.
– I want the rabbit to be gone, forever. I’m tired of bailing him out of bunny jail, or waking up in the dead of the night to him sitting on my chest. And I’m really tired of finding all my bras in his nest.
– I want someone else to feed the dogs and the rabbit. That was the deal y’all.
– I want friends and family to call me instead of checking my Facebook status. I really want friends and family to assume Facebook is being wonky and to re-friend me. I can’t tell you how many times Facebook has de-friended my grandma. Sorry Grams!
– I want to be notified a month ahead of time about crazy week, field trips or dress down day. I want to actually remember that I did get notification.
– I want the sink to be empty and the dishwasher, too, for that matter. I want all the plates, cups, bowls and gooey peanut butter knives to be washed or licked clean.
– I’d like an intercom system installed so I don’t have to yell up the stairs or turn off the shower.
– I want a car free of banana peels, wet towels and homework.
– I want bacon every morning, without the calories or my hair and clothes smelling like bacon.
– I want to be able to find pens, packing tape and scissors. Seriously where are the scissors?
– And the TV remote, where is the remote?
– I want to able to have coffee every morning instead of someone else drinking all the coffee before it has a chance to finish percolating.
– May the wine cabinet always be full and the tea cupboard stocked.
– I want to sit for a full five minutes with my coffee before I hear, “Mom! I need you …”
– I want my hair dryer to stay in my bathroom instead of playing hide and seek every morning.
– For the love of sanity, let there be a never ending supply of hairbrushes, mousse, and hair ties and Bobbi pins.
– To Cheyenne’s first class teacher, could you at least respond and let me know you like the variety and creativity of my “Please excuse Cheyenne for being late” notes?
– Let there be no more homework!
– I want the empty cartons, cereal boxes, etc. to actually magically disappear and magically appear on my shopping list.
– I want the laundry to actually wash, dry and fold itself instead of finding the load on the fluff cycle for the last 36 hours.
– I want the lunch ladies to give me a break. Yes, I know I need to pay the lunch accounts, I got it from the first email, text message and phone call.
– I want the bathrooms to be clean. May the toilet seat always be down, the towels fresh and trash cans empty.
– I really want time to slow down. I want to spend more evenings at home than at meetings, practice, plays and tournaments.
– I want to enjoy this stage with my kids just a little bit longer.
– I want friends to gather around our table a little more often. And I want movie and sushi night with the family to happen more.
– And if you have to buy something from the store, bless this mom with the gift of coffee. LOTS of coffee!
Heather Riggleman is a child of the Midwest and a coffee addict without a recovery plan. She is a full-time mother of three, author and journalist. She is learning to accept the mess after chasing perfect for too many years.