What Do Mums Really Want for Xmas?

Read this open letter to Santa on behalf of all Mums.

Dear Santa,

It’s generally at this time of year that I manage to find myself as the unofficial ghostwriter to a laundry–list of Christmas requests from my children. I must say "kudos" if you managed to make it through all "101 Suggestions for Santa" from 2012; my children are nothing if not thorough

I am penning you an open letter in the hope of stimulating a more desired gift for all mums this year and provide some solutions to the shortcomings of your Present Preparation Process (The 3 Ps, as I like to call them).

You know me Santa, and you have for quite a few years. For a time there you knew my inner-most desires before I even did. Gosh, you could scarcely do no wrong. "Lassie" the Dachshund? A masterstroke. Singing lessons? Gift-giving brilliance (and yes, I’ve still got it).

Like others, I had confidence. I knew you would exceed my expectations because you are wise. Like a wizard.

But, over the years the bar has slipped. In fact, it’s been slipping for some time, and I want to take this opportunity to bring it to your attention on behalf of Mums everywhere.

As I’m sure my peers will agree, your previous attempts have all been made with the very best of intentions. If nothing else, you have tried. I mean, a new Teflon-coated wok the size of a small satellite dish is thoughtful. Truly, it is. As is the suggestion that I’ll be cooking with it ("… great… thankyou... [bare teeth in fashion similar to smiling]").

And then there’s the old classic; the bath bomb.

I get it. The fizzy sensation, the bubbles, the colour of the water. It’s kitschy. But, with a straight yearly quinella of "exotic bath salts" (FYI, Narre Warren isn’t what I picture when I think "far-off destination") I think I’m covered for the next several decades.

I suppose your way of reasoning with me is to say that I should be lucky to have received anything at all. And I am, Santa. Very lucky indeed (God, I LOVED that Dachshund).

But as a Mother, as we tend to do, I would like to impart some wisdom.

There is a fail-safe, Santa - a singular opportunity to ensure that you guarantee some happiness come Christmas Day. A greater happiness than the eleventh glass of "champers" or the last slice of "pav".

Wouldn’t it be easier for me to decide what I receive? What better way of sharing happiness than for me to place your best intentions in the things that I truly want.

What better than a Gift Card - the way of saying you deserve "this" without limiting what "this" is. You simply can’t miss, Santa!

I ask you, who better to choose a present for me, than me?

In the hope of happy gift giving for all of us,Mothers.

P.S. I pray that this letter doesn’t find me on the "naughty list".

P.P.S When I said "what better than a Gift Card" what I really meant was "get me a Westfield Gift Card". Please. I don’t want to have to write you another letter.