I am Mrs. Claus and I Demand Milk and Cookie Parity This Christmas!

So you think you know Mrs. Claus? Well, what’s my first name? Drawing a blank??? And you’ve got how many names for my husband? Such patriarchal reindeer poo!

I’m so over being under-appreciated, I’m about ready to deck more than the halls. It’s high time I set the record straighter than the North Pole and get my fair share of the milk and cookies!

Look, I know you’re impressed with my husband. Being at every mall in America at the same time every day in December is a magical wonder, but who do you think’s running the workshop while you’re sitting in his lap at JC Penny?

From day one, Nick and I have worked as a team to bring the merriest Christmas morning to families everywhere. But the magical business counsel decreed that Nick be the brand, because “men are a more trustworthy symbol.” I know, I know, I know, I never should have agreed to that, but back when we were starting out, “leaning in” was far from being a thing! So I trained as a pastry chef and got masters degrees in engineering, design, and project management. Santa may be the face of Christmas, but I’m the belly shaking like a bowl full of jelly!

Santa famously checks the naughty and nice list twice, right? That’s it! Who do you think keeps it up to date the rest of the year? And his classic red and white fur suit? Designed and sewn by yours truly. Oh, and you’re so amazed by the whole ‘sees you when you’re sleeping, knows when you’re awake’ thing — I engineered the magic snowglobe he uses to spy on you! All the things you love about Santa Claus are the result of an equal effort between him and me, the Mrs. Claus.

In the workshop, sure, I have the help of the elves, but they collect their 2000 candy canes (a very comfortable living wage) at the end of the week and go home to their cottages. For me, Christmas is seven days a week, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year.

Oh did you think I got Christmas Eve off? That’s cute. I’m riding sleighgun all night! I know you think Rudolph guides the sleigh. Grinch, please! That little red nose may light the way, but it sure as sugar cookie can’t read a map. Without me by Santa’s side, ho ho no! Ever heard about the grandma who got run over by the reindeer? Let’s just say I was stuck back at the North Pole with sugar plum fever that year. Thank Kringle I signed us up for sleigh insurance!

So, what do I have to do to get my own gingerbread and milk? Call myself Ms. Claus?! Whose stocking do I have to stuff!? Whose bells do I have to jingle!? Some years I feel like a dusty, old lump of coal when I see the cookie haul. The worst is when there’s carrots for the reindeer, but still, not even a single sweet crumb set aside for me. Nick has shared equally with me all these years, but I shouldn’t have to depend on a man or drink my husband’s milk backwash, even if it does taste like cinnamon.

I insist we thaw the frozen ceiling on cookie and milk pay immediately. I mean the gifts we give you are free! Is it really so much to ask that you recognize my work and compensate me fairly and independently? No, by jingle, it’s not! I’ll know if you’ve paid me or not, so pay up for goodness sake! You better pay up, you better not whine, you better fork over the fudgin’ cookies, I’m tellin’ you why: If my demands are not met, you’ll find out what it’s like to have a year without a Mrs. Claus!