‘Twas the week before Christmas
when all through the house,
Stuff was getting done,
But not by a mouse.
The stockings were hung
By the chimney with care,
They have to be filled,
Insert a swear word here.
The children were ignoring me
all on their phones,
While visions of video bloggers
Taught them sassy tones.
And Dan at his office
And me up to my ears in crap,
Had come to the conclusion that
I would never ever get a nap.
When out in the family room
There arose such a clatter,
I sprung from my home office
To see what was the matter.
Away from my computer I flew like a flash,
Tore open my door and tried not to be rash.
The kids off their phones were now fighting anew
Who ate whose advent candy? Accusations flew.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
The dog, the culprit, threw up everywhere.
With a deep breath so calming and chill,
I swabbed up the vomit and screamed with a trill.
Why, oh, why do you leave out your food?
Cleaning up dog throw up puts me in a bad mood.
Now pull it together! Now give me a break!
I’m trying to work. I have presents to wrap for goodness sake.
Off to you rooms! You’re all off the hook.
Write a letter! Be nice! I know, read a book!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!
My eyes – how they stared
At my To Do list – so scary!
My head – how it ached
And throbbed, not so merry!
My troll little mouth was
Pulled down in a frown,
And my back left tooth was so sore
I knew it needed a crown.
The kids retreated to their rooms
And I started to wrap.
In between each gift I lost the tape
And said crap.
Where does it go? I asked myself out loud
Talking to myself while wrapping, I was not proud.
I ate a Christmas cookie, well, a dollop of batter
And ate some more. Really, what does it matter?
Santa was cute with his round, jolly belly
So what if mine also shook when I laughed
Like a bowl full of jelly?
Santa was chubby and plump, a righteous old elf,
And I laughed that I compared my body to his, in spite of myself.
I poured some red wine and ate more raw cookie dough
I was feeling fine, having fun, well, wouldn’t you know.
I spoke not a word, the kids left me alone.
I wrapped present after present and let out a moan.
The Elf on the Shelf gave me a wink.
He knew I was Santa, and he can’t even think.
“Only a week more,” he said softly, so our last believer wouldn’t hear.
“I don’t think I’ll make it,” I cried with real fear.
“You have no choice, Lady,” he said rather lame.
(The Elf on the Shelf does not know my name.)
As he spread his felt wings with all of his might,
I heard him explain as he flew out of sight…
“Christmas is coming, your family needs you, not a faker.
Santa is good, but you’re the Default Magic Maker.”