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Wednesday, 7 December 2011

Dear Santa. A mother’s letter

Dear Santa Claus,

I am writing to you on behalf of my two girls. They are still little and don’t know how to write yet. I would like to tell you that both of them have been behaving exceptionally well so far, and that I am very proud to be their mom. And since it’s me writing this letter, I’m not going to ask for toys, clothes, or other material things. Instead, I’m going to ask you for things for myself, so I could be a better mother. So, here’s my wish list. Those things are not really for me. They are meant for my children.

Patience. Lots and lots of it. I need as much as you can spare, and more. I need patience in order to stay calm and explain things rather than start screaming. I need it in order to wait for the next develomental step instead of worrying when are my children going to start walking, talking, or doing anything, really. So, patience is always a good thing to have.

Courage. I need that, too. Because I need to teach my children to know good from bad. To teach them courage I need to be couragious myself. I need courage to show them how to stand up for themselves, and do the right thing even when it’s difficult. I need courage to come to their rescue if they need me. And I need courage whenever I decide something that is not socially eccepted because I considered it a good thing. So, lots of courage, too. If you please.

Eyes around my head, and additional extremities. Do you know the feeling when you turn your back for just a second and your child does something she’s not allowed to do, or something that could harm her? Or you’re never fast enough to come to their rescue? Do you? Then you know why I need those additional eyes and hands and legs. Telepathic abilities and a screaming decoder (a device that translates screams and temper tantrums into polite requests) would be nice, too.

Time. It’s not like I expect them to stay babies forever, you know. But each second I am not with them, is a second where I’m missing something. They grow up so fast… and I have plans. Plans to work, plans to visit places, and plans to do things. There are only 24 hours in a day and I need my sleep, too.

It can’t be that difficult, right? It’s not like I’m the only person with such requests. Alternatively, if that’s not possible, you can just turn me into Supermom overnight. Or give me the strength to become one all by myself. 

Thanks.
 Olga




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