Dear Santa,

I've been a good Mum all year. I've fed, cleaned, and cuddled my children on demand, visited the doctor's surgery more than my doctor, sold sixty-two boxes of Choc Chip Cookies to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground and figured out how to attach nine patches onto my daughter's brownies sash with staples and a glue gun.

I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my son's red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry between wash cycles, and who knows when I'll find any more free time in the next 18 years.

Here are my Christmas wishes ...

I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache after a day of chasing kids (in any colour, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don't flap in the breeze, but are strong enough to carry a screaming toddler out of the sweet aisle in the supermarket. I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the sixth month a few pregnancies ago.

If you're bringing big items this year I'd like a car with fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music; a television that doesn't broadcast any programs containing talking animals; and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the salad crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.

On the practical side, I could use a talking daughter doll that says, "Yes, Mummy" to boost my parental confidence, along with one potty-trained toddler, two kids who don't fight, and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools.

I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting, "Don't eat in the living room" and "Take your hands off your brother," because my voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.

And please don't forget the Play-Doh Travel Pack, the hottest stocking stuffer this year for mothers of toddlers. It comes in three fluorescent colours and is guaranteed to crumble on any carpet making the In-laws' house seem just as messy as mine.

If it's too late to find any of these products, I'd settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Polystyrene container.

If you don't mind I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare tomato ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely.

It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organised crime family; or if my toddler didn't look so cute sneaking downstairs to eat contraband ice cream in his pyjamas at midnight.

Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my son saw my feet under the laundry door. I think he wants his crayon back. Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the chimney and come in and dry off by the fire so you don't catch cold. Help yourself to cookies on the table, but don't eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.

Yours Always,

MUM

P.S. One more thing ... you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in you forever!