My letter, 2008

Dear Santa,

I know that as a 32 year old woman I shouldn't believe in you anymore. I know that by now I should be playing Santa for a bunch of kids or at least be a disgruntled grinch. But I can't bring myself to give up on you. I am aware that many of my family and friends will judge me to have a few screws loose for this, I can already hear the whispers behind closed doors about me being as crazy as Aunt Elaine. It doesn't matter. The fact is, I still believe in you. And I was hoping to chat with you about a few things. I recognize the unconventionality of posting my letter to you here on my blog. But I figure if you get all of the other letters addressed to you, then this one will come to you somehow as well. And I wanted to post it here, because I have decided that I am not going to hide my "crazy" anymore. If you get a minute to read any of my other entries, you will see that my crazy is gradually coming out in the open for everyone to see.

I should clarify that this is in no way a wish list. If you happen to be super busy with wish lists right now, then I understand if you need to put this letter down and focus on the wishes of children until after the big day. It's more important that they learn to believe in you. I'm good, I can wait. I promise to still believe in you next year too. And probably for many years after. You can count on me.

I was just thinking about some of the fantastic times we've had together. Sure, it wasn't necessarily together in the same room sort of a sense, but in that emotional way that happens when two spirits impact each other's lives. Do you remember that Christmas in Virginia, with the cousins and the red pajamas and the barbie makeup that Heather and I put on the dog? There isn't a time when I put on makeup without remembering that. We got in HUGE trouble. And I was told I wouldn't be allowed to wear makeup until I was 18. Do you remember my first Christmas with snow? I do. I still think of it every time it snows. And it was a Christmas morning when I first got Nikki, my bird, who I keep a picture of in my journal. And it was Christmas when I got the homemade cabbage patch dolls and the Light-Brites and the games. But I don't remember those things because they were great presents (there were great presents, weren't they?) I remember them for the things that I learned at receiving them. Like the Christmas when I got dishes and I realized it was because it was time for me to make my own home. Those are the things that I wanted to talk to you about. You've taught me some pretty intense lessons via Christmas presents over the course of my lifetime. Thanks for that.

This is all coming up because I noticed that they released a 25 year anniversary Cabbage Patch Doll. I was very excited to see it. It took all of my self-control to not buy one for each of my nieces. I realized as I was wandering around Target with three of them in my cart that it wasn't my neices that would appreciate the doll. I was spending the entire time thinking about how my mom must have slaved to make the homemade ones because there was no way that my parents could afford a $60 doll for each of their daughters. And part of me was lamenting the fact that I never got a real Cabbage Patch Doll. And part of me was grateful for the lesson that I learned. And part of me was realizing that I didn't so much want a Cabbage Patch Doll as I wanted to recapture some of the childhood that has been slipping away over the past few years.

We have alot of stuff nowadays. I can't go into a store without feeling the urge to push entire shelves worth of junk into the nearest garbage bin. Especially in the "seasonal promotions" aisle. How many more musical electronic Santas climbing a ladder by a Christmas tree while playing irritating high pitched synthesized jingle bells tunes does the world really need? Not to mention the useless figurines and the over priced ornaments and the gross flavored candy canes that nobody is going to actually eat. If you want to know where all that money in our economy went to, just check out your local TJmax/BigLots/Walmart clearance aisles the week after Christmas. Yet we keep buying it. We keep spending money we don't have on junk that we don't need. I know you're probably as sad about this perversion of the Christmas spirit as I am. Maybe even more so.

And I have alot of stuff too, which is one of the reasons I didn't really want to send you a wish list this year. I'm not sure that I have room in my life for more things. I am finally at a point in my life where I can afford the things I really need. And I can more easily distinguish between a want and a need. And I suppose that makes me a bit of a grown up now. That makes me a little sad. I know many people are saying "it's about time", but I was hoping to cling to some childhood for a while longer. That's what I really was hoping for this year. Permission to stay a kid. But only I can give that to myself. Thus the letter. All this reminiscing has me wanting to chat with you about it. And I have a few questions as well.

I still kind of want Bing Crosby or Gene Kelly for Christmas. I know, they are both dead now, so don't take things literally there. You know what I mean. My sister has probably asked for Gene Kelly as well, but she would also settle for Harrison Ford, who is still alive and therefore possibly easier to deliver. Do you remember the Snoopy Snow Cone machines? I know Mom and Dad searched for those several different years. I heard they don't work very well. I don't want one anymore (just more stuff). I get alot of sweets and smelly soaps and lotions from parents. Is there any way we can send a message about that to them? I know it's a simple thank you gift, but it breaks my heart to throw away canisters of cookies that I can't eat, either because I don't trust the kitchen they came from, or I can feel myself turning diabetic by the end of the day. These are just things to keep in mind for next year. I still love the cocoa though. They can keep bringing me every different kind of cocoa under the sun, and I guarantee it will be used. Sorry I usually drink yours before you get to my house. I just can't resist it. If you really want it to warm up, feel free to use my kitchen and microwave. There are cocoa packets stashed in nearly ever cupboard. The good stuff is in the silver mixing bowl on the top shelf over the stove. I reccommend you use milk instead of water, it's just better that way. Just rinse the mug out after you're done. I hate scrubbing dried on cocoa sludge. I should probably find out if you prefer cocoa or just a glass of milk. Either way, help yourself. And if your reindeer could scare away the neighbors cats that fight outside my window every morning, that would be a huge bonus! It was great to see you in the Salt Lake airport a few years ago. I know I was pretty out of it, I was still very drugged up from that surgery, but I remember you, I remember seeing you and recognizing you and you talked to my dad for a minute. I tell everyone I know that I really id meet you. They think I'm being cute. But we know the truth. How do you feel about all of the movies they are making about you? I'm a little sad when some of them seem to mock you. I won't go see them if they give me that impression. I still watch Miracle on 34th street whenever I see it on TV, just because it's the best representation of you, I think. But I don't have a TV this year, so I might miss out on that. Maybe I can find it online.

I am a little concerned about Christmas this year. It's the first year I've really been on my own. I know I was away for those two Christmases in Paris, but I wasn't on my own so much then as I was doing bigger things. You know about that. We had pretty similar jobs in those days. Plus, just being in Paris was Christmas enough to last me a lifetime. It's not that I'm concerned about presents and stockings. Like I said, this is not a wish list. It's just that there are quite a few memories and feelings that I don't want to miss out on, and I am not sure how to keep them even when I am facing Christmas alone. So if there is anything you can do to help me out, I would be oh so grateful.

Thanks Santa, just for being here though. You have been a constant figure in my life, and if I don't get a visit from you this year, I understand that it's because I need to grow up a little more. But I will still hope and believe. And I will still look for you at the airport and in the other places I might see you. Don't be surprised if I wave or smile.

Love and Chocolate Chip Cookies,
Nancy Beth