I have been very good this year. Remember that one game where a mom from the opposing team threw a triple-A hissy fit because my son checked her son? Even though I wanted to go over there and rearrange the sparkly gems on her t-shirt so that instead of saying "Hockey Mom," it would read "Whiney Mom," I restrained myself. I didn't even say anything ugly to her. Out loud. If you just say it in your head, it doesn't count, right?
Okay. I admit I didn't sell anything for the team fundraiser. But that wasn't really my fault. With the economy being so poor, people just aren't buying Tupperware Corn Cob Keepers like they used to.
Anyway. If you could put the following under my Christmas tree, I'd be happier than a couple of Zamboni drivers playing bumper cars.
1. A new coat to wear to the rink. It needs to be lightweight, able to keep me warm in -30 degree temperatures, quick to remove (in case of a hot flash), and make me look like Catherine Zeta Jones instead of Kung Fu Panda.
2. I've heard that diabetics can now get this machine called an insulin pump, that delivers the right dose directly into their system when it's needed. Can you get me one of those? But I need it to pump shots of espresso. With peppermint mocha syrup.
3. An Odor-Eater the size of a body pillow, to stuff in my son's hockey bag after practice.
4. Heated cute shoes. (Wool socks make my feet look fat.)
5. One of those big electronic megaphones. Apparently, the coaches and players can't hear my advice when I yell from the stands. And I just know that if they would follow my instructions, our team would be undefeated and my eight-year-old son would already have an NHL contract.
P.S. Don't count on having milk and cookies at my house. There's a hockey player living here, you know.