What I REALLY want for Christmas

To heck with peace on earth. Bush et al. have pretty much squashed any hope for peace. Besides, if all those pretty girls in the beauty pageants keep asking for peace on earth and it doesn't happen, what makes me think anyone will listen to a grumpy middle-aged woman?

Nah. I've got some very selfish requests, Santa Claus. I don't want any store-bought presents. Oh, I wouldn't turn down anything like that--especially books, which I love, and movies and music, and knick-knacks, which are likely to be what I'll be unwrapping. But here's what I really want:

• I want my musical younger son to play a song for me. He can pick any of the instruments that he so brilliantly plays, but acoustic guitar would be nice. I don't much care what he plays. It doesn't have to be Christmas music, but that would be lovely--something soft and gentle and hopeful. Anything except heavy-metal death music.


• I want my logical, rational older son to have a job offer. He has so many ambitions, so much desire to succeed. If I had proof of a job offer for him, that would make my day bright.


• I want my esteemed spouse to stop working so hard. Not only does it make me look bad, but it makes him joyless. Yesterday we had our first big belly laugh together in forever, it seemed. He had a wad of cat hair stuck on his socked foot. "I've tried to get rid of this ball of hair since I combed it off Simon, but it keeps finding me! It's been in the trash, on the back of the couch, and now it's on my foot!" he grumbled. Since he had just washed his hands for supper, he didn't want to touch the ball of hair, so he angled his long leg up over the trash can in the kitchen (the tall one) and pulled off the cat hair by closing the trash can lid on his toes and pulling his foot out, leaving the cat hair precariously dangling at the very rim of the trash can. Of course, the moment I opened the trash can to deposit some trash, the ball of hair flew out--escape!!--and became part of the decor once again. We decided that it was more than a ball of hair--that it was alive, like Frosty the Snowman. Unlike snow, though, this ball wasn't going to melt.


• I want my older daughter-in-law to get some peace from her family problems. Her stepfather has Alzheimer's and to deal with it, her mother has sought fundamentalist religion, with which she keeps badgering my son and his wife. Poor H. dreads going to family gatherings, watching her beloved stepfather deteriorate and avoiding her mother's sermons.


• I want my younger daughter-in-law to accept what we do for them. She feels bad that we keep giving them money and gifts. Her own father committed suicide, and her mother isn't rolling in money (she's a teacher), so I know our generosity looks grandiose compared to what her family can do. But that's not the point. We give to them because we want to, not because we have to. We don't hurt ourselves financially by giving to them, and if it makes their day a little brighter, their meals a little more nutritious, then accept and be grateful. Don't question or feel bad.


• I want my younger son to be the person he was meant to be. He's intelligent, sensitive, talented, and beautiful. When he was a child, he was happy constantly. He was good-natured and loving. Now he's frightened and paranoid. He doesn't work because of his fear of others. I want that fear to go away and be replaced with the confidence that he can do whatever he wants to. Music is but one way he can express how he feels, and he does that very nicely, whenever he stops trying to be a morbid goth creature. I want a smile for Christmas that comes from his heart. I want to hear him say, "I love you, Mom," the way he did when he was young. (He'd bite his tongue off before he'd say that now.)


• I want my beloved older son to relax and stop being so critical. He gets it honestly, and I admit to feeling guilty because spouse and I have always been so cynical. But now, before he becomes a full-time lawyer, I want him to accept that the world is not against him or out to get him. For the most part, as insulting as it sounds, the world doesn't give a damn about any one of us. We create our own emotional environments (and yeah, after yesterday's posts, I know how hypocritical that sounds). I just want him to know that fact more clearly and at a younger age than I knew it.


• I want my husband to put me on a pedestal. Not a high one. I have a fear of heights. A low one, one that puts our heads nose-to-nose, will do. I want to look him eye-to-eye and see that he recognizes my worth, that he doesn't have to feel that if it weren't for him, the whole world would collapse. I don't want to be on a pedestal that puts me above him, in worship zone. I just want him to see me for the equal that I know I am. He doesn't have to take care of me physically, but a little emotional nurturing might be nice.


• For my sisters and brothers, I would love to see a little self-respect. Respect yourselves enough that you don't give in to the poverty and slovenliness that labels you "white trash." You don't have to be rich to clean your houses. And stop smoking! I'm tempted to boycott your premature funerals, which sadly I suspect will occur, simply because you are deliberately killing yourselves.


• For my mother-in-law, who is the best role model in the world, I want you not to be lonely. You want us to move back South so desperately, and if we could, we would. But we can't make a living there, and as much as that sounds like an excuse, you really don't want us to have to move in with you because we can't afford a place of our own on Louisiana salaries.


• For myself--yeah, saving the best for Numero Uno--I want a tenure-track job. I want to know that all my years of education didn't prepare me only to be an overeducated bum.

So many more wishes--happiness and loving companionship, freedom from financial hardship, respect from their children and coworkers--these I wish for my dear friends. They know who they are.

And while you're at it, Santa, let's get a Democrat elected to the White House. It's not peace on earth, but it is a step in the right direction. Dr. S.