Tis the season to be hungry, falalala lalalala…Pass the sausage, dumb dumb. Don’t call your brother dumb dumb.
Do we know our kids are all feral, falalala lalalala Can I have juice, Mommy? Mum, he just spilled juice on my turkey! I did not, I poured over all over your hair!
Tis the season it was, Christmas was almost upon us and my usually small family had expanded many fold, the dining room was filled with rambunctious laughter, noisy chatter and the clicking and clacking of cutlery. The cutlery music mainly came from the youngest who perfected his Drumming Solo called “No 3, Ode to Mommy’s Annoyance”. There was not a chair that was empty or plate unfilled, but I kept going through the list in my head, like the ever anxious hostess.
Turkey, check, Ham, check, gravy, check, cranberry sauce, check, potatoes, check…I couldn’t help going though the list in my head over and over again…There seemed to be something that I had missed.
Ahhh….maybe it’s time for the Christmas Cake!
The table erupted into noisy chaos when I brought the Cake out, and we ate our way till it was way past our bedtimes.
Long after the guest had left and the children threatened with coal in their stockings and tucked safely into bed, some more tightly than others, and the house was still in a mess but I decided to pen my Christmas List to Mrs Claus before it was too late.
Dearest Delly (Mrs Santa Claus),
Thank you so much for having me the other day. I really enjoyed meeting you. As we speak, I am sure I am in the running for the Pulitzer Prize for having cracked the Secret to the Perfect Christmas! HuffingWheezingSneezingPost, Mamaohdear, Mumsrecticulum and recticulummums have started a bidding war for my exclusive interview with you. How exciting is that!
Steven Spielberg has also just rung me to buy the rights to the story, he’s hoping to turn this into the next blockbuster hit, “Santa’s List”.
As I was leaving, you asked me if I had written my letter to Santa yet? I found that really strange as I think it must be 31 years since I last wrote to Santa. I was really disappointed that he did not bring me “the breasts” that I wanted for that year. I was so disappointed when I woke up on Christmas Day, still as flat chested as I was on Christmas Eve and all the girls in my class were already wearing bras! On hindsight, I do realize that Santa is not a plastic surgeon and cannot grant a 11 year old girl’s requests for breasts. So I thought it is time to forgive Santa.
It is now Christmas Eve and I wanted to thank you for your kind hospitality and also I thought it wouldn’t hurt to write to YOU so that you pass this wish list letter to Santa as I am sure like any wonderful marriage, you have the Veto Power.
So here is what a blogging mum would really like for Xmas.
- A trip to the UK for the Blogging Conference
- A holiday by the sea
- 2 million subscribers
- A viral post
- A Cake, Cookie, Chocolate, heck, anything edible and sinful PR request
- Uninterrupted sleep with no hands grabbing my boobs or little feet in my face.
- Not being woken up at 4am on Christmas Morning
- No bedtime struggles of “Do I have to? But I’m not tired…”
- Using the Toilet in peace!
- Alone time on the bathroom with no children interruptus of “Mummy, can I…” “Mummy…” “Mummy”
- Being able to wash my hair
- Have a nap!
- No washing?
(For a more comprehensive list, dearest Delly, please hop unto this link : http://www.agentspitback.com.au/485/dont-say-the-f-word/)
I’m sure there’s something else I would like but it’s getting late and I don’t want to seem greedy. So Merry Christmas to you Delly!
Much love from EL.
I then placed the letter and tossed it into the fireplace just ten minutes before the clock struck for Christmas Day. I then placed my head on my pillow and I soon fell fast asleep.
When all of a sudden, there arose such a clatter!
“What?” I jumped up in fright and hissed to my husband who was fast asleep, “Honey? HONEY??”
“Honey….No more Honey Cake…I’m full!” He groaned and turned to his other side.
There was another loud clatter and I jumped right out of bed.
“Honey! There’s someone!” I yelled.
“No, no more TARTS!” he yelled obviously in a dessert nightmare, “NOT the Pavlova, anything but the Pav!”
Hhhhmmmm, he obviously wasn’t going to be much help. So I grabbed my youngest’s Kylo-Ren Star Wars light Sabre and went out to have a look. I tip toed out, it was dark but I could see the silhouette of someone moving.
“Feel the force!” I yelled and I turned the Light Sabre on.
“Ho ho ho…silver jingly bells, it’s me!” In the glow of the Light Sabre, there I saw him, in his wonderful smile was Santa Claus!
“San….San…ta?” I rubbed my eyes in disbelief.
“Ho ho ho, yes it is, love, you gave me a little Reindeer fright, young lady! Anyway, you’re just the one I wanted to see tonight?”
“Yes, I’ve got your letter, remember?”
“My letter to Mrs Claus?”
“Yes, she made sure I read it. So I’ve come to take you with me. Come along, you’re getting your wish…”
My whole body tingled! I was going to the UK for THE Blogging Conference and I was going to see some of my most chocolicious Favourite UK blogging friends, DaysInBed, Honest Mum, Laura Summers, MamaMummyMum, Mackenzie Glanville, Morgan Prince, MumMuddlingThrough, Motherhood:The Real Deal, Pink Pear Bear, Random Musings, ReimerandRuby, Rhyming With Wine, Something Crunchy Mummy, Susan K Mann, The Anxious Dragon, ThisMumsLife, The Real Military Housewife, TheWritingBubble, The Girls from TheGlassHouseGirls, YouBabyMeMummy….
“El? EL?” Santa boomed and rudely interrupted my day dream of taking selfies with these incredible bloggers and I didn’t even finish half that list!
“What Now? In my pyjamas?”
“Oh that will do…Come along, love, come along…I don’t have much time tonight, I do have 509,876,321 deliveries more to make…”
Pyjamas? Okay, so maybe that was how Blogging Conferences were done in the UK? Who was I to judge the local culture?
“Take my hand, love and hold on tight. Jingle Jingle Silver Bells…All the way!”
With a whoosh, I was in his sleigh and there were the beautiful reindeers as well. It was the loveliest reddest sleigh with gold bells, gold trimmings and beautiful gold trimmed red seats. On the side of the sleigh, it said Santa Claus Nice Flying Machine. Santa Claus expertly put on his flying goggles and Flying Ace cap and his leather jacket. I quickly got in besides him.
“Ready, El?” he asked.
“Yes…yes…” I said in excitement.
“Buckle up! Now, Dasher, Now Dancer, Now Prancer and Vixen!
On Comet! On Cupid! On Donner and Blitzen!
Past the pizza shop, past the shopping mall,
Now Dash away! Dash Away! Dash away all!” he shouted and with a great big heave, the sleigh shot into the sky.
The roar of the wind rushed was deafening but I could still hear Santa’s favourite music “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” blasting from the North Pole radio.
We flew past mountains, and oceans, we seemed to be going on for a long way till strangely we came to an area, which seemed strangely familiar.
“This looks like the Donut shop, much like the one I used to go when I first started working.” I said peering at the Donut shop where I tried all 34 flavours.
“What??” Santa replied over the roar of the wind, “Pine Nuts? No, no, no PineNuts for me, love!”
“Look, that’s the old bookshop! Didn’t realize the UK had them too?”
“U2, yes I’ve met Bono…What a good lad he is! I think he looks nicer in his short hair now.“
That park where I used to talk long walks in…I thought to myself as Santa started talking about how hairstyles had changed throughout the centuries, all except his.
Then with a loud clatter, the reindeers gently trotted unto the front lawn of a beautiful old weatherboard cottage.
“Silver Jingly Bells, we’re here! Whoa, Dasher, Whoa Dancer, Whoa Prancer and Vixen! Whoa Comet! Whoa Cupid! Whoa Donner and Blitzen. We’re here, We’re here and that’s all!”
I looked at Santa and I rubbed my eyes, “This does not look a blogging conference?”
“Blogging conference?” he chuckled, “What in the blaze is that?? Oh no…Go on…”
“This isn’t the UK?” I whispered suspiciously.
“UK? Heavens no no no…ho ho ho” he guffawed, “…Go on, go on…”
“Aren’t you coming, Santa?”
“No, I’ve got a couple of deliveries here to make. I’ll come by to pick you up. When I holler ho ho ho, you’ll have to come if not, I will not be able to finish my deliveries in time.”
I stepped off the sleigh, nodded and stood still for a moment. Everything looked strangely familiar but I just could not place it. I heard the clatter of hooves and Santa flew away.
Where on earth did he drop me? Maybe….a shiver ran up my spine…Was this my holiday home I have wanting? Brad Pitt as my Personal Butler, Theo James as my Pool boy, or Jamie Oliver as my personal chef…squeal… with a shiver of excitement in anticipation of a Middle Aged Woman’s Fantasy, I knocked on the door.
The door magically opened. There in the sitting room, I could see the television soap “Dallas” playing on the Television set, from a videotape player. There was a cassette tape deck and a TV guide magazine placed neatly to the remote control on the coffee table.
The floral rug, the purple throws, the picture of the sea which hung above the television, the knick-knacks of cheap souvenirs, the Chinese vase with the artificial roses, the bookshelf lined with the Britannica Encyclopedia, the push button phone…there was even a pager!
I walked to the row of family photos and I saw myself in them. A much younger self.
Then I saw her walk in.
Her….I gasped, she looked so much the same…
There was a slight catch in my breath. I tried to say something but no words came out. My chest heaved with emotions and my head became all a blurr.
The beautiful lady in curly black hair, neatly combed and hair-sprayed, in that all too familiar blouse and slacks.
“Hello?” I whispered, hesitantly.
She picked up the TV guide and started flicking through it.
I stood next to her and I tried again, “He…” but my words became lost in the thick haze of emotions.
“Where have you been?” I wanted to scream.
I reached out and tried to touch her but she stood up and walked towards the kitchen.
“Don’t go!” my thoughts shouted as I followed her, “DON’T GO!”
I consumed her every move as she set the dinner table. Like fire, the spark of memory became ignited as I remembered how she liked to put the plates in a certain way, how she liked the cups in a certain way…it was always done her way.
“Still your way?” I said with a little smile though I really wanted to ask her, “Do you know that I have children now?”
But she pottered about much in her own world and I saw her set the table for 10 even though she was alone.
“There’s so much I want to tell you!” I said but there was nothing I said.
“1, 2, 3, 4….9, 10.Oh dear!” she said as she looked at the table and counted the plates, “Now, why did I do that, El Belle?”
The tightness in my chest became unbearable and the dam in my heart burst as I heard the name I had not heard in a long long time.
As my tears fell, something strange happened. The tears became little bright sparks, which grew bigger which then floated through the house.
I looked closer at the sparks – a little mirror in each one and in the mirror a reflection of me standing there… in that spark…The spark floated towards her and dropped unto her hand.
She looked at hand, astonished, “Ooohhh…” She then looked round and said, “El Belle…..”
“I’m here!” I said as more tears flowed and each tear became a memory of what she had missed and the tears rained down on her as she nodded and smiled knowingly.
“Ho ho ho!” Santa called out, “It is almost Christmas Day! El, we have to go…”
I turned and walked away, very reluctantly, at first and then I hurried away, without a word, without a second look, without a second goodbye.
I quietly closed the door behind me. “Santa…” I whispered as I sat next to him, “how…”
“It was on your list.” He smiled so kindly on me.
“But I never wrote it.” I shook my head.
“I know,” as Santa wiped a tear away, “But it’s been on your list for 18 years, every Christmas, every year.”
We rode back in silence, and it was nearly Christmas Morning when we reached my home.
Santa gave me a great big hug and a promise that he would look into having a rule that no mothers be disturbed before 10am on Christmas morning and with a chuckle, he was off.
But the moment I got into bed, a flurry of activity began and the children were soon awake, jumping into our bed.
It was a Christmas morning, like any Christmas morning, when my children were all awake and tearing off wrapping paper like in a shark feeding frenzy while we laughed and compared gifts. We sat down for Christmas Breakfast and the children were squabbling about who had more bacon again.
There is my complete family, check, pancakes, check, bacon, check, juice, check, cookies, check …as I went through the list in my head again but something on the list that was still missing…
All of a sudden, I felt a drop of warmth in my heart.
There it was, I saw the same bright sparks floating in the air and it started raining all around us, on my husband, my children and me.
“Don’t cry, Mom, please don’t cry,” I whispered to my mother-in-law as my heart broke into a million pieces, “Merry Christmas to you too.”
My Christmas List was finally complete.
I would like to wish all of you and all your loved ones, even ones who cannot be with us for various reasons, a Merry Merry Christmas! They are with us, no matter near or far, for they are always in our hearts, our souls and in our minds. Truly, Christmas is a time for celebration and remembrance.
And a big thank you for all of you for being part of the Agent Spitback Adventure and hope to see you all next year!
When The Mulk tries to be funny, I becomes Agent Spitback writing life nonsense for my Secret Diary.
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