Dear Father Christmas...

Dear Father Christmas

Firstly let me start off by saying I have been a really good Mum this year. I've done more than my fair share of early mornings (90% minimum). Made it to school without having to run there most of the time and didn't once scream "FOR F*CKS SAKE" when my son demanded Peppa on the television at 5am 3/4s of 2016. I've tackled nits. Twice. I potty trained a three year old boy and didn't physically attack an elderly lady when she told me he didn't need his dummy anymore whilst he was face down screaming in Asda.

There have been tantrums, sibling rivalry and holidays where I returned more frazzled than when I went. I completed a giant Italy Easter holiday project with one days notice (totally not my fault...OK so maybe a little bit me not checking school bags until the last Sunday. But really? Who does?). I also didn't kill my husband when he continuously left the washing in the machine magically expecting it to dry somehow. I did good. Now it's time for pay back. So here is what I am putting on my wish list this Christmas. You won't find it in the Smyths catalogue which has been floating around our house since October. But? I'm sure you could still make it happen:

❄️ A weekly sh*t without an audience. No small boy showing me his willy, no girl happily lining up her shopkins at my feet and no other half cleaning his teeth right next to me.

❄️A monthly bath. Alone. Hot. Scalding hot. And deep. With an adult bath bomb and not the left overs of an Elsa bubble bath or the last squidge of Johnsons shampoo.

❄️The ability to each week watch my reality TV of choice (for example Made In Chelsea or Real Housewives of Anywhere That Isn't Where I Live) in peace. A FULL HOUR. Not ten minutes in and someone wakes up, or the washing needs taking out of the machine. Or someone notices I'm watching it and demands Paw Patrol or else the will scream and turn purple.

❄️An occasional lie in. And not a lie in where I still wake up and whisper through gritted teeth "It's your turn". Like a proper lie in. Where I go to sleep at night and wake up in broad daylight with my family happily playing downstairs and not killing each other whilst eating Haribo.

❄️To look good sometimes. To leave the house for the school run feeling like I've got my act together. With clean leggings on and spring in my step. Not looking like something the cat has dragged in whilst I scream "SHOES. NOW!"

❄️ For my two beauts to have as much fun in 2016 as they did in 2017. For them to love me as much as they already do. Despite me looking like an exhausted shouting hag most of the time. And for them to know that despite the screams to "GET OUT!" whilst I poo, the moans when I am up at the crack of arse and those times I forget to check their bags. That they understand they mean the utter world to me.

Come on Father Christmas work your magic. In return in 2017 I will make sure that the tablet is always charged, that my bag is full of emergency snacks and I won't drink quite so much gin (OK that last one is a fib).

Love Mummy xxx

PS Thanks for being my threat these past few months. Come Dec 25th? I am totally screwed.
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