Experience the Magic of Christmas All Year Round
🎄He said he was scouting rooftops. What he really found was a new motivational tool for the elf break room… There’s a certain kind of zappy energy that creeps into the air this time of year—not the peppermint-sparkle kind, but the “we-have-fourteen-lists-and-three-hours” kind. And while
A simple tradition, a familiar face, and a quiet moment before the sleigh bells ring. The countdown continues here at the North Pole, and the pace has officially tipped into what I call “juggle-and-hope” mode. Elves are walking briskly, cocoa mugs are half-drunk and forgotten,
A blog by Mrs. Claus – Life With Santa
Oh my darlings, my dears…
I must begin today with a heartfelt confession. I made a promise—one I truly meant—to sit down every day in November and write to you. But here we are, December 2nd, and well… it’s been many days (no, I don’t care to count) since my last post.
I could give you a whole North Pole sleigh-load of excuses—and goodness, many of them would be valid! We’ve had flurries of activity, literal and otherwise. A massive fresh snowfall surprised us earlier this week. We’re deep in crunch time, and some of the elves discovered a critical shortage of parts for a few favorite toys. Once the materials finally arrived, we had to sweet-talk a few of our retired elves to come back and lend a hand. (They grumbled at first, but they’ve been singing carols ever since!)
But as true as all of that may be, I don’t like excuses.
I love the feeling of keeping a commitment. It gives a sparkle to the day—a feeling of self-discipline, order, and delight. So, my sweet sugarplums, I offer you my sincere apologies for my little vanishing act. And I thank you for your kindness as I dust myself off and return to the keys today, with every good intention to post daily again for the next few weeks.
I love fresh starts, don’t you?
When we pause, take a breath, and see our failings for what they are, we often feel a little wave of sadness—but also a sense of renewal and resolve. Like our Savior, who cheers for us to succeed, yet knows our human hearts will falter from time to time. His mercy is new every morning (Lamentations 3:22–23), and that gives me such hope.
Failures, if used wisely, can gently guide us to better paths. Sometimes they remind us what matters most.
Just this week, I received a question from a thoughtful young girl—one I’ve been asked many times before:
“Dear Mrs. Claus, why don’t you and Santa have any children? I think you’d make the best parents ever! It’s obvious you love children.”
Oh, sweetheart. What a tender, beautiful question.
Yes, my love, Santa and I always dreamed of having children. In our earliest years of marriage, we prayed and hoped and dreamed of a little one, actually the dream was of many little ones, toddling around the cottage. I imagined braiding tiny pigtails or reading bedtime stories by lantern light while snow whispered at the window. We imagined what it might be like to share milk and cookies with our very own son or daughter.
But God had a different plan.
Despite our prayers and our longing, He chose not to give us children in the way we expected. At first, it hurt—yes, even up here at the North Pole, we’ve known heartache. But over time, we began to see something beautiful unfold.
The Father who knows all things didn’t take something away from us… He gave us something even bigger than we ever dreamed:
A family made up of every child around the world.
Each child who dreams of Santa, each tiny believer who leaves out cookies and writes letters—each one is a gift. A treasure.
And oh, how deeply we love you all.
The elves have become like dear nephews and nieces (and occasionally, a few eccentric uncles, if we’re honest). And the laughter of children, even from afar, fills our home more than you could ever imagine.
The Bible says, “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)
And truly, His plans—though they may seem contrary to our own at first—are always better than anything we could have written for ourselves.
So yes, dear one, we would have loved to raise a little Claus or two, or ten. But instead, we’ve been given the immense joy of loving millions of you. Every smile, every giggle, every kind act you do in the spirit of Christmas… it fills our hearts beyond measure.
Now, before I sign off, let me tell you what Santa and I did the other morning.
After the surprising snowstorm had passed, the world fell still.
The fresh snow hadn’t yet been trampled by North Pole delivery carts or joyful reindeer hooves. It was utterly peaceful.
So Santa and I bundled up, and took one of our favorite kinds of walks.
Just the two of us, our boots crunching softly, the world hushed in white. The snow still clung to the trees, sparkling like diamond dust in the morning sun. It’s moments like those, in the hush after a storm, when gratitude wells up the most.
I took a few photos to share with you below. I was unable to get any of Santa feeling a bit mischievous, because he tried to toss a snowball at me. (He missed, for the record.)
More to come tomorrow, my darlings. For now, I leave you with this:
Whether your life looks like you hoped or not,
Whether the garden of your dreams is covered in snow,
Or the plans you made have taken a curious turn…
Trust the One who writes a better story than we ever could.
With love, forgiveness, and warm mittens,
Mrs. Claus
📜 November 1243 Days Till Christmas My darlings… You’ll have to forgive me tonight.This old girl has not an ounce of energy left—not a spoonful, not a sprinkle. Not even a cookie crumb’s worth. Let’s just say the day was not what I had planned.
45 Days Till Christmas My darlings, There are days here at the North Pole that begin as ordinary as bread dough rising in a warm kitchen… and by nightfall, you find yourself wiping tears of laughter from your cheeks over something so unexpected, so absurdly
46 Days Till Christmas
My darlings,
Yesterday’s post left me a little raw, if I’m being honest. Sometimes a heart doesn’t bounce back immediately, even after a good cry and a midnight talk with Santa. I think that’s all right. Some aches just need a little time… and maybe a little company.
This morning, I got just that.
I had called in a small grocery order—mostly flour (we’re going through it like the wind this year), cinnamon sticks, and a few specialty items I can’t seem to keep in stock this side of the solstice. It wasn’t a big order, but I didn’t want to go into town today. I was still wearing my shawl over my nightgown and hadn’t yet wrangled my hair into anything respectable.
So you can imagine my surprise when I heard the knock and opened the door to find Elmo, the grocery delivery elf, grinning like a peppermint cat with cream on its whiskers.
“Elmo!” I nearly shouted, and nearly dropped the bag of oats I was holding. “It’s been too long!”
He hadn’t been by my end of the village in a few weeks, what with the new interns handling the northern routes. But today, by some miracle (or clerical mix-up—hard to say which), Elmo was back.
I asked if he could stay for a cup of coffee, and to my delight, he said yes. He even pulled out a warm nut-roll from his own coat pocket to share—he claimed it was a customer tip, but I suspect he brought it just in case he got invited to sit a while. Smart boy.
We didn’t talk about Santa’s dream, or heavy hearts, or the ache that can rise like frost around the edges of December.
We talked about nothing in particular—until Elmo pulled out the notepad he carries on deliveries and said, “Mrs. C, can I share a few riddles with you? The bakery elves in South Grove have been full of them lately.”
Now, you know how I am about wordplay and wit. Elmo didn’t have to ask twice.
Q: What do you call a snowman with a six-pack?
A: An abdominal snowman.
(I laughed so hard I nearly spilled my coffee. This one’s my favorite. Elmo said he heard it from a second-grader who tipped him with a candy cane and a note that said “stay strong.”)
Q: Why did the gingerbread man go to therapy?
A: He felt crumby inside.
Q: What’s Santa’s favorite kind of music?
A: Wrap music.
Q: Why do Christmas lights never argue?
A: They know how to stay lit without blowing a fuse.
By the time Elmo bundled back up and headed out into the snow, I was lighter. Still tired, yes. Still feeling the pull of all that’s left to do. But better.
The Bible says, “A merry heart doeth good like a medicine…” and I vow if it isn’t true. Laughter doesn’t erase sorrow, but it reminds you that you’re still alive, still held, still human. And sometimes, a riddle shared over coffee is just what the doctor—or the Lord—ordered.
So here’s my prescription today, dear ones:
Find someone to laugh with.
Tell a joke.
Bake something ridiculous.
Sit with a friend for 20 minutes without talking about anything important.
It won’t fix the world.
But it just might lift your corner of it.
With coffee-scented joy,
—Mrs. Claus
❄️ November 8 47 Days Till Christmas My darlings, it’s been a little while since we’ve visited, hasn’t it? Life at the North Pole rarely slows, but there’s a difference between being busy and being full. And lately, it’s felt like we’ve been running on
My darlings, one of the joys of keeping this blog is opening letters from all around the world asking for more details about Santa and our world here. Some are filled with questions about reindeer, some about Santa’s favorite cookies (that one is easy—all of
My darlings,
You can feel it in the air—even if the cocoa hasn’t quite replaced the lemonade yet. It’s early August at the North Pole, and you know what that means?
We’re nearly in the fourth quarter. That’s how Santa puts it, anyway. He says it like a football coach giving a locker room speech, only instead of shoulder pads and helmets, we’re dealing with sugar sprinkles and sleigh bolts.
But truly—once August rolls in, everything starts to shift. Santa begins his Pre-Christmas Worries (capital P, capital C, capital W). Happens every year like clockwork. ⏰
Inventory gets double-checked. Workshop schedules are reviewed. Santa walks the halls of each department nodding thoughtfully, sometimes muttering things like:
“Too many yo-yos…”
“Where are we on glitter glue?”
He loves this season—but he also takes it very seriously. Let’s just say this is not the time of year to ask Santa for vacation days. ❌🏖️
And that, my dears, is why I tend to get the knock at the door.
It starts softly. Then a shuffle. Then the telltale nervous ahem of an elf who forgot to submit their vacation request back in January and is hoping Mrs. Claus might have a little wiggle room in her calendar (and a fresh cookie on the plate). 😬🍪
Most of the time, I can make it work without Santa even noticing. No harm, no foul, as the saying goes.
But there are some elves even I can’t sneak through the system.
Enter: Herman. Yes, that Herman. Our Head Elf. The one who got overly competitive at Game Night and argued with Santa over who actually invented marshmallow poker chips. (We still have no idea how that ended up in the rulebook.)
I was just pulling a fresh batch of pumpkin whoopie pies from the oven—“Whoopie!!!” I heard Santa shout from the next room (he says that every time)—when I heard a knock at the door.
It was Herman.
He stood there with slumped shoulders, holding a half-crumpled vacation request form and the weight of seasonal shame on his face.
“Mrs. Claus,” he said, “I forgot to submit my week off for the first week of November. I’ve known I needed it since spring. I even made a calendar reminder—but the reminder was for last week.”
He sighed and stared down at his boots.
“Santa’s going to notice if I’m gone. He’ll notice if my station is covered. There’s no way to hide this one. But… do you think you could tell him?”
Ah yes. The old Mrs.-Claus-Will-Deliver-the-Bad-News-With-Cookies routine. I know it well. 😉
So I poured him a cup of spiced tea and gave him a warm whoopie pie, and we practiced breathing like we do with the baby reindeer. Then I told him I’d see what I could do.
That evening, as Santa sat by the fire reviewing production spreadsheets (he says he prefers “spreadsheets over bedtime stories this time of year,” which I personally find tragic), I slid a plate of another whoopie pie in front of him.
“Oh ho!” he said, “You’re spoiling me today.”
“Not spoiling,” I said casually, “distracting.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Distracting me from what?”
“Well… Herman forgot to file his vacation request and he’s going to need the first week of November off. I told him I’d ask.”
Santa didn’t flinch. He simply took a slow bite, chewed thoughtfully, and said, “I see.”
Pause.
Then:
“He didn’t try to send someone else in his place again, did he? Last time it was Tagwell in a trench coat pretending to be Herman, and I only figured it out because he tried to submit a tag request form instead of an ornament design report.”
“No, no,” I said, trying not to laugh. “This time it’s honest.”
Santa shook his head.
“That elf has more vacation form drama than the entire Snowball Squad combined. But… all right. We’ll make it work. He’ll owe me a batch of his gingerbread-caramel popcorn though. And I want the good kind—not the burned batch like last year.”
I kissed his forehead and said, “You’re a softie.”
He grunted, “I’m a supervisor.”
But I saw him smiling as he wrote “Herman: OFF” in his planner with a peppermint-scented pen. ✏️
So yes, my dears… the countdown has begun. 🎄 Whether you’re ready or not, Christmas is coming.
Here at the North Pole, the wheels are turning, the lists are growing, and the ovens are warming up again. 🍪✨
I hope wherever you are, you’re feeling the first quiet tug of the season—the kind that reminds you of joy, wonder, and the tiniest thrill of anticipation.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to sneak in a few vacation days of my own before Santa starts color-coding the tinsel forecast. 😉
With flour on my apron and joy in my heart,
—Mrs. Claus
July 1st • A Life With Santa Blog Post Oh, my darlings, Let me tell you something that might surprise you. You know Santa as jolly. Cheerful. Full of ho-ho-hos and cookies. But I know him as something else, too—fiercely competitive when it comes to
6 Months To Go! Oh, my darlings, 🧼 You’d think June would be a quiet month up here at the North Pole, but no. Absolutely not. The peppermint plants are sprouting crooked, half the elves are sunburned from chasing snow reflections, and I’ve had to