Letters to Santa

My letter and response from Santa. Jolly Old St. Nick my ass!

Dear Santa,
I have tried so hard this year to be good. I’ve always almost made it on time for all my appointments, tried my best to keep my patience, done my best to be a good friend and helper, tried my best to keep my house clean and the family happy and tried even harder to be a good parent, wife and daughter.


Yes, I’ve bitched, moaned and yelled at other drivers on the road but some people really should not have licenses. I’ve yelled at the kids from time to time but in my defense they have been a little crazy. My house has been messy from time to time and I have had a bad attitude on certain days but hey, I’m a mom! I deserve to have cranky days too. And I have to admit (because I’m sure you’ve heard) I have had quite the potty mouth this year. Sorry!


So this year, Santa, all I ask for is peace and happiness in our home. Less tantrums from the kids, more smiles, laughs and family memories. I know the economy sucks right now but if you have an extra Nissaan Quest parked around the North Pole that isn’t being used anymore then I’ll gladly take it off  your hands! Or maybe even a new Photoshop software of some kind would be great. Hell, if you’re feeling ambitious and your elves are bored a new house would be freaking fantastic!


Other than that I’ll settle for the necessities of peace, health, happiness and less craziness which is my life. Maybe  a few extra bux for Christmas gifts for the kids too. I promise that I’ll try harder next year to be better! PROMISE!

Love,

Stefanie

His response:

Dear Stefanie,

I know you have tried to be good and patient this year but c’mon…really? You’re 29 years old! I don’t bring you gifts anymore…you’re too old. I can’t bring you health and happiness. I’m Santa not God for heavens sakes! Stop writing me letters and filling up my mailbox with all your wishes and apologies…you’re not getting anything but a stocking full of coal for your potty mouth and messy house.


Signed,

Santa Clause

My response back:

Dear Mean OLD Santa,

How dare you call me old! You are like 1200 years old, you old fart! I’m a young 29! Don’t be jealous! I don’t want your stinkin coal. I know I’ve lost my temper a couple of times and that my house isn’t always looking like a Good Housekeeping model home but damn it, I try! At least you could bring me a new vacuum or something. If you’re not going to be nice you’re going to be sorry.


Insincerely,

Stefanie

His response back to me:

Dear Stefanie,

This letter is to inform you that you are not allowed to write Mr. Clause anymore. He now has a restraining order against you.


Signed,

Mr. Clause’s Legal Team

To which I HAD to respond back with:

WTF? Santa, you’re mean! That’s it! I’m telling my kids you don’t exist anymore. And I hope your elves can make lots of toilet paper because you’re totally getting XLax in your milk and cookies laced with with MiraLAX!


Stefanie

Sniff sniff


To which my husband responded, ‘That wasn’t very nice. I was only teasing!’ As he ran off to the bathroom again.


Opps…