A Parody by Emily
Twas the weekend ‘fore Christmas, and all through the house
A crazed mom was stirring (but not her spouse).
The stockings weren’t hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that in mishap three heads would be spared.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While mansions of Legos were built in their heads.
This mamma in her sweatpants with a little nightcap,
Had just hunkered down with the presents to wrap.
When out of her head there arose such a clatter,
She sprang up to pace and dwell on the matter.
Away to her checklists she flew like a flash,
Tore into the gifts and examined the stash.
The moon through the window, it made her list grow
All the things without checkmarks, they began to glow.
When, what to her wondering eyes should appear,
But a small wave of panic, with a slight hint of fear.
With a little deep breathing, not lively or quick,
She prayed for a miracle from big ‘ol St Nick.
More rapid than eagles her stamina, it came,
And she whistled, and shouted, and called out each name!
“Now Noah! now, Chloe! now, Sylvie and Dad!
Plus cousins! and nephews, Aunt Ali and Thad!
To the top of the list! No time to stall!
Now wrap away! wrap away! wrap away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the ceiling the paper it flew,
With ribbons and wrapping, tape and gift tags too.
And then, with a sprinkling, like rain on the roof
The prancing and pawing of anxiety’s hoof.
As she thought in her head, and was turning around,
Not a moment to pause or rest could be found.
She was covered in dough, from her head to her feet,
And her hair was all sticky with some kind of sweet.
A bundle of cards she had flung on table,
And she looked at the pile with a few more to label.
Her eyes-how they squinted! Her eyelids how lazy!
Her bags were like luggage, her memory fading!
Her chapped little mouth was drawn in a straight line,
The quiver of her chin signaled things were not fine.
The clench of her jaw, it held fast to her teeth,
And worry encircled her head like a wreath.
She had a blah face and she looked to her belly,
That she prayed would not shake like a bowlful of jelly!
She was tired and limp, a right worn out old elf,
But she laughed then and there, in spite of herself!
A glint in her eye and a thought in her head,
Soon gave her some insight; there’s nothing to dread.
She spoke not a word, but went back to her work,
“This is Christmas,” she muttered, “be joyful, you jerk.”
And wiping her finger under her nose,
And giving a nod, her fortitude, it rose!
She sprang to her list, to herself gave a whistle,
And she flew through the house like the down of a thistle.
To hear them exclaim and then giggle outright,
For a Happy Christmas to all, she’d get through each night.