Hey ladies, Whitney here. I thought for this little post I would share my letter to my Santa, but really, it’s my tribute to all you Baton Rouge moms who have been filling those boots each year and for years to come.
I hope this Christmas is wonderful for you. Can I trouble you for a moment of your time? You see, this is a big year in my family. It’s our first Christmas as a family of four. I want the girls first Christmas as sisters to be something that will be etched their heart and your memory for years to come. I feel so lucky that God has chosen me to be a part of their lives in very different ways. They each call me two very different names and will grow up to know me as two versions of a mom, but if you look deep you will find that the pockets I have reserved for them in my heart are the same size. As I write this I am crying the same amount of tears for each of them. They are perfect little versions of their father, seriously, look at them:
You see I want to make sure I leave both of them with very important lessons in this life. So this is my ask, Santa, help me give them a mom for Christmas.
You see just like you, all year I am convinced they see me when I am sleeping and when I am awake. They know when I have been bad or good. They know and see all. So there’s some things I am going to need from you because, let’s face it, they are watching and copying my every move. I know you have given me these things before. You give them to me everyday, Christmas or otherwise, but I am a real live mom now, and I need my Santa this year more than ever. It’s a long list, but I think it’s worth it.
I would like to teach my girls that being brave will not always come with a big win. It often comes with great disappointment but even greater life lessons. So Santa, I am going to need a little BRAVERY.
I would love my girls to have patience for each other and humans in general. Humans are a frustrating kind. So Santa, I am going to need PATIENCE.
I want my ladies to know that manners will take them farther than anything in this world. I want them to know that napkins still belong on laps, ankles crossed, and that you can still be unique AND polite. So if you could, make sure my pinky is up when I drink my Franzia Chillable Red? No but really, can you make sure I stay on my MANNERS game?
I have the best mom (see what I did there, Santa?) and the most okay-est brother (love you Cam!) ever, but even they would say that family is not always what you are born with, but sometimes the one that shows up in a car on the way home from college. That family can be where your strength comes from in the darkest of days, that’s the village it takes to survive this world and raise a family. Santa, help me build my VILLAGE.
Let’s talk, Santa. I feel like you can relate. You know the day after Christmas after all those cookies? I imagine your body changes. Imagine nine months of cookies and then birth and then still really liking cookies. I really still like cookies. My body is not what it used to be. I am one of the most confident girls you’ve ever delivered gifts to, but this year my pants don’t fit the same. I want my girls to grow up with the confidence to look in the mirror when their body completely fails them and say, “I got this!” or “Who is that beauty looking back?” So Santa, can you send a bit of your CONFIDENCE down my way?
I hope this isn’t asking too much. You have been good to me over the years. You always ate my cookies, and the note you left me on my magna-doodle back in 1994 didn’t go unnoticed. I always appreciated that you brought the apple up to the reindeer even though you had places to get, going up and down our chimney twice must have been tough. So thank you. I can’t promise this will be my last letter to you, but I can promise your grace and your magic through the years never went unnoticed.
Whitney , Playing Santa since 2014