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Long Days, Short Seasons

Musings of a Mother

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‘Twas the Night Before Christmas: Parent Edition

By Shelby Colette
December 18, 2023

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house

Not a creature was sleeping, not even the mouse.

Children were running—post-bath time, bums bare,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

We wrestled to get their pajamas all on,

And get all these children to bed before dawn.

 

 

The stockings were thrown on the fireplace that night

‘Cause mom couldn’t find the things to hold them up tight.

The children (finally) nestled all snug in their beds,

While to-do lists floated through our frazzled heads.

There’s wrapping and meal-prepping for the big day,

As mommy and daddy keep slaving away.

From toy assembly, we had no pause;

We started to feel just like ol’ Santa Claus.

We spoke not a word, but went straight to our work,

And filled all the stocking; then I turned with a jerk;

“Now, Dasher! Now,  Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donder and Blitzen!”

I stood up and with a shout, I said—

My sanity hanging by a tenuous thread.

From all the desserts I had a round belly,

That shook when I laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.

And I sighed when I saw it, in spite of myself,

I felt chubby and plump, like a grumpy old elf.

 

The clock kept on ticking, each second more tired.

But daddy says the Cozy Coupe instructions he just fired.

 

There’s the orange sweet rolls and breakfast to prep,

When I feel like I can’t even take one more step.

I can’t find the stocking stuffers or cordless mouse,

‘Cause the gifts have been stashed all over the house.

 

The last present is wrapped and placed under the tree,

Exhausted, we call it and say, “Let it be.”

 

And me in my old shirt, and daddy in his cap,

Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature human, with crazy hair like a reindeer.

She stood in the dark, staring silently down,

Like a possessed vision. I wake with a frown.

“What is it, baby?” I groggily said.

“Mommy,” she answered, “I just wet the bed.”

The moon shining through the frosted pane,

Gave the lustre of mid-day on my exhausted frame.

I drag my body to her little bed,

And there spy the puddle of which she had said.

I strip all the sheets and change her pj’s,

Give her a kiss and slip quickly away.

 

Back to the cold bed I now settle in,

When I hear the coughing start to begin.

Someone’s awake, struggling to breath,

‘Nother round of croup, Merry Christmas to me.

And laying a finger aside of my nose,

I gave a sigh, up out of the bed I rose;

I’m dressed all in fur, from my head to my foot;

(I might as well be covered in soot.)

I carry a bundle of my child fare,

Out into the freezing winter night air.

Upon seeing the moon, her eyes-how merry!

Her cheeks were like roses, her nose like a cherry.

Her sweet little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

Her hair in the moonlight looked white as the snow.

We sit in the cold, just me and my child,

We make it through, this croup is mild.

 

The hours tick on, for us parents no sleep,

As the night slowly moves, continues to creep.

A nightmare, a dream, a sip of water,

Someone decides they need midnight fodder.

 

The house finally stills, at some point in time,

At this point I could use a good glass of wine.

 

The house is all quiet, without a peep.

We might actually get a few hours of sleep.

A whisper in my ear as dawns morning light,

“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”