Dear Father Christmas,
As Santi is too young to understand Christmas this year, I am taking the opportunity to write a wish list of my own. I would be incredibly grateful if you could bring one or more of the following when you pop down our chimney on Wednesday night…
Sleep: This is something I’ve had very little of over the last six-and-a-half months, and the thing I miss most about life pre-baby. Despite the
irritating great advice I received daily while pregnant, it was pretty impossible to “stock up on sleep” before baby arrived as he was busy kicking me in the ribs during the early hours. Since then, we’ve been teased with a few decent nights, lulling us into a false sense of security before a holiday / teething / illness threw us off again.
Makeup: I don’t mean the standard Boots three-for-two set here, I’m talking full on industrial strength coverup. Feel free to enlist the help of Mother Claus in your quest, and if you can find something to disguise the suitcases under my eyes you will forever find a buffet of goodies for you, Rudolph and the gang under the Perrin Christmas tree.
A cleaner: I was debating just asking for some incredible magic cleaning solution (our settee has been subject to everything from tea and coffee to baby sick and nuclear yellow antibiotics), but what the heck, I’ve been such a good girl this year that I’m going all out. I’m sure you could fit a Mary Poppins type in your sack so I can stop running around like a mad woman attempting to tidy up the day’s chaos 10 minutes before Stew arrives home. Feel free to throw in a chef while you’re at it, I won’t complain.
Identity: I misplaced mine on June 3, so if you can locate that on your journey from the North Pole I won’t ask for a new one. I’m sure at one point kind friends would describe me as fashionable … not any more! Since Santi was born, my weekly shopping habit has been reduced to a few frantic glances around the rails, resulting in the oddest combination of purchases (two pairs of checked leggings – both worn once, two hoodies – going for comfort over style, a pair of Converse, one sparkly dress – an attempt to look festive at my work party, and a couple of tops). While my spending has shifted to providing Santi with a wardrobe jammed with fashionable clothes (if I do say so myself), I’ve lost track of what look I’m going for. I’ve now resigned myself to the fate of wearing nothing but jeans for the forseeable future.
Time machine: Now this is the biggie. Please, please, please could you bring me a time machine? I know you must have one as you make it all around the world in one night. I wouldn’t use it to change the past, or even to spy into the future (as tempting as it might be), I would simply like to be able to pause time every now and again. Be it when Santi has a nap so I can enjoy a hot cup of tea before whizzing around the house with the hoover (although if you bring me the cleaner I won’t need to worry about that), or to make one of his lovely fits of giggles last longer, I promise to use it wisely.
Thank you in advance,
p.s. We had the chimney taken down recently, I hope that doesn’t affect your visit.