Dear Santa, Can We Cut A Deal?

Dear Santa,

I'm a lawyer. That means I basically grew up thinking just about anything was negotiable. I think this "naughty or nice" thing should be negotiable because, for one, your terms are vague, and two, whether my wishes are fulfilled shouldn't be an "either-or" proposition. Santa, behavior is way more complicated than that. We lawyers see shades of gray where other folks see only black or white, and we are highly compensated, unless we work for the State of California, for seeing those shades of gray. They're called "legal argument."

So Santa, think we can cut a deal on this whole "naughty or nice" thing?

First, some things need to be taken off the "naughty" table. Santa, what happens between two consenting married people in the privacy of their bedroom or other places with smooth surfaces shouldn't make the "naughty" list. BMNB didn't date me on and off for twenty years and then marry me just because of the intellectual conversation, Santa. I'm just sayin'. Some of my "naughty" has been pretty nice to him. Just because you see us when we're sleeping doesn't mean you should be watching, Santa. That's just kinda pervy, if you ask me.

Second, some of the nice things should be weighed against the naughty ones to come to a determination as to whether my wishes will be fulfilled. That's only fair, Santa.

So, here goes with the naughty things I've done this year:

I'm still not on speaking terms with some members of my family. But Santa, I have so much more peace in my life because I'm not. Do I have to give up my peace to be on good terms with people who wreck my peace just because they're related to me? No arrest warrants or restraining orders were issued because I kept to myself, Santa. I hate to stereotype, Santa, but in a black family, that's huge.

I embarrassed a public official in a public meeting. But he deserved it, Santa, because he misrepresented something and I called him on it. I did it for the good of the tax-paying public, Santa. I consider that pro bono publico, Santa. Not entirely naughty in my book.

I didn't visit my in-laws down south this summer. I allowed my work to get in the way of traveling with BMNB. That I do regret.

I did go off on some of my co-workers in a meeting. But they deserved it, Santa, really they did. I had returned from vacation and they were all on my back about getting something done that was nowhere near being late, while another co-worker who was late on a project was being allowed to skate. So I called them on it, Santa. I don't regret that, but it was naughty.

Oh, and I may have told a few people to kiss my pretty black ass, Santa, but I come by that naturally. My mom used to tell people that all the time, and I'm sure she's in heaven. I think you should overlook that, Santa.

Now for the nice:

I cooked more this year, relatively speaking. No, Santa, I'm not trying to get over on you, statistically speaking. I know that when you go from not cooking at all to cooking once, that is essentially a 100% increase. I did cook more than once, Santa. Not much more than once, but I did cook more than once. BMNB has not starved to death. Yet.

I lost weight. I joined Weight Watchers again (Yes, Santa, I know I'm to Weight Watchers what Lindsay Lohan is to rehab), and I lost weight. Mind you, when they switched our meeting leader to this insipidly happy chick, I stopped going and regained some of the weight. But I'm really going back, Santa, really I am.

I finished my book. That's huge, Santa. I should get major points for that.

I grew vegetables last summer and gave them away. No, Santa, they didn't go to the needy. They went to my neighbors and my sisters. Is that any less nice?

I took BMNB to see one of his favorite singers, Anthony Hamilton, in concert for his birthday.

I fed my sister's cats while she was away at a retreat. Okay, I know I'm reaching here, Santa, since I really adore her cats, but it was still nice of me to do so.

I gave out legal advice to relatives. Yeah, Santa, I know -- I'm supposed to do that.

I gave up red meat, dairy, and caffeine. Okay, Santa, fine -- I'm giving up red meat, dairy and caffeine. Yeah, you saw me last week with that applewood-smoked bacon and Gruyere grilled cheese sandwich.

Come to think of it, Santa, maybe I haven't been all that nice after all. But when you consider what I want for Christmas, I think you'd be willing to cut me a deal.

Okay, Santa, here's what I want:

A son for BMNB.

Yeah, I know -- we basically flunked our adoption classes last year as no-shows. But we've gotten our priorities in order and I think BMNB is really ready to become a dad. He's had lots of practice with our great-nieces and great-nephews, and I think he really longs to shape the direction of a young African-American boy in need of a father. It would really make him happy, and anything that makes him happy makes me even more happy.

So Santa, think we can cut a deal?

Thanks for reading, Santa.

Black Woman Blogging

P.S. Santa, I wouldn't be mad if you made it two boys, as long as they don't leave the seat down when they pee. I hate that.