Wednesday, December 19, 2012

The Mom Version: Twas the Night Before Christmas


Twas the night before Christmas, when all through our abode,

the only creature stirring was Mom, carrying a load.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

waiting for Mom to fill them with without pulling out her hair.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

while visions of the Elf on the Shelf leaving with Santa danced in their heads.

And Dad in his recliner, with the dog in his lap,

was snoring very loud while taking a nap.


When out in the kitchen there arose such a clatter,

Mom sprang from her work to see what was the matter.

Away from the room she flew like a flash,

to stop all noise, she sprinted the three yard dash.


The light from the lamp gave off a soft glow

as Mom hurried to make sure the noises would not grow.

When what to her wondering eyes should appear,

but the family cat eating Santa’s snacks left in here.


With very little movement, so stealthy and quick,

she shooed away the cat by waving a stick.

More rapid than a two year old, her Christmas present list grew,

and she jotted and thought and out of her mouth the list flew:


“Now iPad! Now Dart Board!

Now Barbie and Ken!

On Monopoly! On Sorry!

On American Girl and funky pen!

To the couch in the den!

To the chair by the wall!

Now put them here! And over there!

Set out Christmas presents for all!”


As what happens to a clean house when a toddler runs through,

Mom was met with an obstacle, but knew just what to do.

She started organizing the gifts to make sure they were all equal

in order to prevent World War II from having a sequel.


And then, for a moment, she heard noises again.

The ones that cause empty pillows where sleeping heads had once been.

As she turned her head and was walking that way,

she realized it was Daddy just snoring away.


He was already dressed for bed, reclined in his chair.

His idea of helping was sitting with his feet in the air.

So Mom made him get up, but he had to be led

as he stumbled down the hall and fell into bed.


Mom’s eyes, they looked weary.  Her smile seemed so dreary.

Her back was aching, but her spirit was still cheery.

Her lips were pressed together to make a straight line

as she read the directions for toy number nine.

The paper with instructions she held tight in her hand,

and the words seemed to be swimming like water and sand.

There were a lot of pieces for this simple little toy,

and the author of the directions had attempted to be coy.


Mom figured it all out without losing her cool,

she put together all of the toys without breaking one tool.

Now Dad is still snoring and Mom is almost done,

she has set up all the presents so Christmas morning can be fun!


She spoke not a word, but surveyed the room,

ate a cookie and then got the broom.

Mom swept and cleaned and took out the trash

hoping the children wouldn’t find the Christmas trash stash.


She put on her pajamas and got ready for bed,

she stumbled down the hall, but Mom did not have to be led.

She let out a small cry when the time of two o’clock came in sight,

but still murmured “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”


Image from Tumblr: merrychristmaschristmas
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Monday, December 17, 2012

Parent of a 1st Grader

There are many thoughts and feelings that I would like to put into words.  Words that seemed to have escaped me since this past Friday.  As so many people have said, I can't even remember last week before Friday.  It is a day burned into my brain and my heart forever.  I have spent the weekend like most Americans: watching the news.  Listening to the same stories over and over again because I cannot begin to fathom how this could have occurred; how someone could do something so evil.  

No event in my lifetime has ever had this big of an affect on me, and I live no where near Connecticut.  I share what most people in this country share who are extremely affected by this: I am a parent.  But it's more than that.  I am the parent of a 1st grader.  All of those children were my daughter's age.  Some of them a couple of weeks older than her, some of them a few months younger than her.  One of them even reminded me of her.

The scenarios that I have in my head are horrendous, and I cannot get rid of them.  I picture those kids doing what my daughter did Friday morning.  Bounding out of bed to go look for her elf to see where he was hiding.  Eating breakfast while chatting away a mile a minute about all she was going to do at school that day and how she couldn't wait to get home and play dolls with her sister.  Giving her daddy, me, and her sisters a hug and kiss before running inside the school building.  The difference is that my child came home Friday afternoon and played dolls with her sister.  I got to hug and squeeze her and tell her how much I love her.  Those other parents did not.  And I cannot help but dwell on the fact that next time it could be me and my children's school.  The most frightening part of that is that I have no control over it.  I would like to place armed guards at every entrance to every school, but that is not feasible.  I am not sure what the answer is or if there even is one.  Those parents will never be back to normal again, and I am not sure anyone who has children can be either.