Dear Santa,
Please bring me a house filled with regular, healthy people for Christmas.
I have had my full of stomach bugs, bronchitis and lice-scares from the elementary school. The whole month of December has been spent with Saturday morning "fine-I-guess-we'll-have-to-break-down-and-go-to-the-doctor" visits, dispensing of antibiotics and a nearly continuous cleansing of the bathrooms and the kitchen.
I am worn out with wondering and worrying what we'll wake up and find, each morning. Hot foreheads? Lethargic kids? Meals consisting existing entirely of toast and applesauce? Another trip to the store for tylenol and gatorade? A husband with a cough to wake the dead that hits at about 2:30 am, EVERY night?
Check.
Santa, please understand, I love my family. And I know that everyone gets sick. But, one thing after another? In December?
I am supposed to be merrily decking the halls and baking cookies and wrapping presents.
This is difficult to fit in, when it's 11:00 pm before I've even taken a deep breath.
Santa, I know, too, that so many other families have much more serious situations, than I. My petty, whiny complaints about lack of sleep and a reserved spot at my local drug store are really unnecessary and ridiculous. In the grand scheme of things, I know that I should just continue those deep breaths and be patient.
But, I am tired. I am stressed. I need a sympathetic ear and jolly smile.
You're my man.
Thanks for listening. We all hope to greet the Christmas morning with clear lungs and happy tummies. If that happens, I'll know you've made a delivery in my stocking, too.
