(Adapted from Clement Clarke Moore’s A Visit from St. Nicholas)

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

All the creatures were stirring, in our messy house;

We parents were rushing bedtime stories (“not fair!”),

In hopes dear sweet sleep soon would be there;

The children were bouncing up and down on the bed

While dreaming of gifts and cookies, we sighed with dread;

Daddy with his tools, and I knee-deep in new plastic crap,

Had just poured some beer from a long-drawn tap,

When up in their rooms we heard a loud shatter,

So wrapping and taping and assembling our stash,

We swigged some more beer, mourning lost cash.

When what to my dark-circled eyes did appear,

But a crib full of poop, (I eyed another beer),

With a tiny baby all covered in shit,

I knew in a moment, well this is it.

Louder than seagulls, my son’s words then came,

And he cried, and laughed, and called us by name:

“Now Mama! Now Dada!  Now baby and cousin!

Into my room, for more o’ that dancin’ and singin’!

To the top of my bed! Let’s have a ball!

Come now, come now, come now ALL!”

Husband hurried his way up to the room asking why? why?,

And met with our little son, frolicking joyfully in his sty;

So it was back to bed, my silly kid knew

With a final kiss goodnight and drink of water too.

And then, heart sinking, I cleaned up the poop

And put baby back in her crib with one fell swoop.

“Pour me a drink,” said husband, holding all he could carry

“Before I give up on making Christmas so merry.”

We toasted a glass and tried not to bristle,

Putting together all that rings and whistles.

Then I whispered to my spouse, lest he lose sight—

“Merry Christmas to all, let’s fight the good fight!”

***

About the Author

Julia Arnold

Julia Arnold is a mom of two young kids living in the Twin Cities who is still coming to terms with the fact that her counters are always sticky, and her floor is never clean. She writes about the less glamorous side of new motherhood on her blog .