Waxing Poetic Redux

I can't decide if it's comforting or just plain scary that this post from last year describes the exact way my house looks today. I'm going with scary.



Twas' four days before Christmas
And throughout the homestead,
Laundry was knee-deep
And there was only one "made" bed.

Teachers gifts were all stacked
On the dining room table,
We'd love to eat there
If only we were able.

The Boy in his pjs,
And Baby Girl in the same,
In fact Mother's still not dressed
And feeling quite lame.

No shopping's been done
For the Mr. from the Mrs.
And don't look in the kitchen,
You'll gasp at the dishes.

Our tree is so pretty,
We have that at least,
But no food has been purchased
For the big Christmas feast.

The kids are all sick,
A nice Christmas cold,
Crusty noses and coughs,
We're a sight to behold.

But I'll dose them all up
With some good "baby pink"**
And then maybe I'll tackle
The mound in the sink

Or maybe I'll just gaze
At the creche by the tree
To see how my children have
Arranged things so perfectly.

Because Christmas is coming,
With the house clean or dirty,
With presents or nothing,
Or with kids sick or hearty.

So I'll rise up to meet it,
Right here in this place,
And be glad we're all here,
Each smiling, crusty face.

So from this house to yours,
From our hearth and our hearts,
Merry Christmas To All
(forget the imperfect parts)!



** "baby pink" is my kids' name for Children's Motrin, because the bubble gum flavor is pink

Originally posted December 20, 2006