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Dear Santa,

I’m not sure if you remember me. It’s been a while since I’ve written. Truthfully, I was giving you the silent treatment, whether you realized it or not, because in all the years I did write to you, you never, ever, ever got me what I asked for.

I always thought it was because I was Jewish and we didn’t have a tree, until someone explained to me that saints couldn’t possibly be anti-Semitic.

But I just found this box of old letters in my parents’ garage, so now I realize that it wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry, Santa. I really am.

I owe you an apology for all those nasty thoughts I’ve had about you. Like when I didn’t get the pink Barbie convertible in 1970 and I drew a Hitler moustache on your picture. Or when you didn’t bring me a pony in 1974 or that purple Camaro in 1979 and I made those little kids cry when I told them you weren’t real. I feel especially bad for all those mean things I thought about you when Captain Awesome dumped me and took Princess Not-So-Nice to the Winter Formal in 1980, when I had already bought my red taffeta dress and everything. Those ex-lax brownies I left you the next year were truly unforgivable, but I’m asking you to forgive me anyway.

See, now I realize it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t get my letters because my mom never mailed them.

I’m sure my mom meant to mail my letters, but she just got busy. You know how it is. I certainly do. That’s actually why I’m writing to you now, and to apologize, of course. See, this year I really need something I can’t find in the stores, or even on the Internet. Believe me I’ve tried. What I really need this year is a clone of myself. I’m not kidding. There’s not enough of me to go around these days.

I can’t keep up with the whole Christmas comparathon competition. It’s bad enough that I’m losing in the cooking and crafting divisions, but then there are the cards. Those daily reminder letters about how perfect everyone else’s family is make me want to scream. “Matt and Karen’s fetus just received early admission to Harvard for 2025,” and my kid can’t even remember to take his backpack out of the car and hang it on the hook in his room! And he’s trying to remember, that’s the worst part.

I’m trying too. I’m trying my very best.

I’ve tried being in four or five places at the same time, but for some incredibly frustrating reason it just isn’t working. I’m always late and half the time, once I get somewhere, I forget what I’m supposed to be doing in the first place.

I’d love to know how you manage to visit every house on Christmas Eve, Santa. If you would share that one secret with me, then maybe I wouldn’t need to ask you for a clone.

Here’s a typical day, yesterday. I needed to go to Koss’s school early, to help with a fundraiser. This meant I had to wake myself up early and get him up and dressed early, none of which bodes well for the rest of the day. Especially since the mom who was supposed to bring the coffee apparently forgot. If anyone deserves a lump of coal…!

I also had an interview scheduled that morning, a doctor’s appointment, we were out of orange juice and it was laundry day, which means my socks didn’t match. Plus, my husband couldn’t find an address he needed and I really had to pee and he was still brushing his teeth.

The rest of a day went by in a similar whirl of stories to write, calls to make, gifts to buy, and emails to answer.

Then before I knew it, it was pickup time and the phone was ringing, and I forgot I was supposed to bring dessert for a board meeting, and Koss had a play date, but he also had basketball practice, said he was starving, couldn’t find his shoes, and I forgot that I was supposed to be at a completely different meeting that afternoon.

Then, just as I finally got him settled at practice and I had a few minutes to organize myself, the person I was supposed to interview the day before finally called me back. Where did I put my notes again? I seem to have misplaced my short-term memory. I know it was around here somewhere.

Anyway, Santa, if you’re still reading, you get the picture. I could really use some help around here. I just found a huge stack of last year’s thank you notes I forgot to mail, along with a letter that Koss wrote to you. I meant to mail it, I really did. But if you get him that puppy he asked for, then we’re really going to have some issues!

What’s on your Christmas wish list? Tell Leslie at email. For more columns visit www.LeslieDinaberg.com.

Originally appeared in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on December 14, 2007.