Dear Santa:

Dear Santa,

Hi there.  How are things up at the North Pole?  I hope unemployment is down at the Claus Compound and, as such, that this Christmas finds you handing your elves fewer pink slips than last. I imagine it's hard to find work as an elf; those Keebler guys have the cookie market cornered and now, with the popularity of the Elf on a Shelf, there's competition from the doll industry.  Tough times. 

Before I get to what I want for Christmas, I would like to point out that I have been really good this year.  Seriously, I don't know if you've noticed, but today is December 20th and my Christmas cards have been mailed, my wrapping is done, and my tree HASN'T EVEN FALLEN DOWN ONCE.

Well, not yet anyway.


I get my teeth cleaned every six months, get felt up by the OBGYN once a year, and use a moisturizer with SPF 15.  EVERY DAY.


Also, I'd like to take this opportunity to direct your attention to the following:  my driving record (clean), my voting record (active), and my criminal record (non-existent). 
 
Not bad, right? 

So I think you'll be happy to know that I only want one thing for Christmas this year.

A wife.

Hear me out on this one, S.C.  This isn't some kind of polygamous fantasy, I don't want a Barb or a Margene, and GOD KNOWS I don't need a Nikki.  Besides, I took a quiz in last month's Glamour and it turns out my face is WAY too round to pull off the French-braid-with-the-Bump-Itz-pouf. 

Nor is this some kinky sex thing.  Although, really Santa, let's get honest for a second here, even if it WAS, you're not really in a position to judge.  You spend a good deal of time with small children in your lap while the world turns a blind eye to that whole he-sees-you-when-you're-sleeping-he-knows-when-you're-awake-he-knows-if-you've-been-bad-or-good thing.  If you think about it, you're sort of like the MacDaddy of Creepers.  And we all  know it's just you and Mrs. Claus and all those elves isolated up there in the North Pole, where it stays cold and dark for like DAYS on end.  I'm not accusing you of anything, I'm just saying.  People talk.  Not me.  But people.

Also, The Wife is also not a replacement for The Husband.  I would very much like to keep him.

Really, The Wife is just there so that, in my absence, things will get done the way I do them rather than in some other husband-like way which invariably leaves me with more work than I started with.  For example, if I go out on a Thursday night, Wife would be here to keep everyone in line.  The dishes would be done, bedtime would start and finish on time, the downstairs would be picked up, and no one would have walked around the house eating something seriously crumb-producing, like pretzel rods or crackers, without a bowl or plate or napkin or FOR GOD'S SAKE, SOMETHING! to catch ALL OF THOSE CRUMBS. 

Wife will not put up a philosophical argument about the suitability of ice-cream, candy, or potato chips at 8 a.m.  She will always have tissues, she'll be aware of the clock so as to avoid giving the boys donuts for a snack 45 minutes before dinner is ready, and she will always know the location of each child's hat, gloves, and shoes. 

Now, if she could also clean the bathroom and do laundry , that would be SO awesome, but I realize I'm probably pushing my luck.

Oh, one more thing.  I sort of need her to be on the less-attractive side.  Unfortunate facial hair, adult-onset acne, goiters:  all welcome here.

Because, like I said, I'd like to keep The Husband.

So that's it, Santa.  One wife.  I'm sure you can fit her in the sleigh.

She'll be the one sitting next to you controlling the radio and telling you YOU NEED TO SLOW DOWN!

Thanks a lot, Santa.

Love, Jenn