Reading the classic, “A Visit from St. Nicholas” by Clement C. Moore remains a favorite holiday tradition of mine. As I was flipping through the pages the other day, it inspired a mom-adapted version which is in no way meant to undermine the beauty of this original poem, and in every way meant to make you smile.
It’s the most wonderful and tiring time of the year, mamas.
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
All the kids were still stirring, maybe even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
and rehung 628 times before good ol’ St. Nick ever got there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds;
While bedtime excuses danced in their heads;
And mamma in her leggings, with wine for a nightcap,
Had just prepared her brain for a full night to wrap,
When up from the bedrooms there arose such a clatter,
She took a long sip and didn’t care what was the matter.
Away to the basement, she flew like a flash,
Tore through the paper to find the holiday stash.
The dim light on the breast of the tape and the bows,
Gave luster of hope to her tired-mom woes.
When what to her wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature human and two tiny stuffed reindeer.
With so many packages with bows left to stick,
She knew in a moment the kids must get to bed quick;
More rapid than eagles the other children they came,
Mamma whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Peyton!, now, Brynlee!, now Aubrey! and Blankie!
On, Hilda! on, Una! on, Peppa and Snoopy!
To the top of the stairs! To the beds you must fall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
So up to the bedrooms the children they flew
With arms full of stuffed animals, and blankies too.
And then, in a twinkling, mamma heard up the stairs,
The sweet, quiet twirling of little girls’ hairs.
As she grabbed her supplies, and was turning around,
There went her wine, spilling with abound.
She was dressed all in cotton, from her head to her foot,
And now her clothes were tarnished with wine, spit-up, and soot;
A bundle of toys she had flung in a pile,
She cut open Amazon boxes for quite a long while.
Her eyes—how they drooped! her dimples, how weary!
Her cheeks were like roses, her nose like a cherry!
The Scotch tape and the pen she held tight in her teeth,
And the ribbon, it encircled her head like a wreath;
She had a broad face and a squishy round belly
That shook when she laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
She was chubby and plump, a right jolly young elf,
And she laughed when she caught a quick glimpse of herself;
A snip of the scissors and a twist of her head,
Soon gave her to know she would soon be in bed;
She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
After cleaning the mess she left under her nose,
And giving a nod, up the staircase she rose;
She sprang to her bed, to her spouse gave a whistle,
And to sleep they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard her exclaim, ere she snuggled up tight—
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
This piece originally appeared at Please Bring Coffee, published with permission.