T

The Covington News - - Sunday living -

is just be­fore Christ­mas, and here in my house

I’m scold­ing my kids, and nag­ging my spouse.

For we’re all out of time, with no time to spare,

They’re driv­ing me crazy, I’m pulling my hair.

Still so much to do, but where should I start?

For cre­at­ing a great Christ­mas is a mag­i­cal art,

One that I love and adore ev­ery minute,

But when I pro­cras­ti­nate, my heart is not in it.

I still need to gift-wrap, I still need to buy

A present for Don­nie, my most won­der­ful guy.

I need stock­ing stuffers, a full ton of candy

To stuff the kids’ stock­ings all fat and dandy.

I still need to clean, to dust and to sweep,

To scour and scrub and oh yeah — to sleep.

But sleep is for sissies and there’s no time for that.

I’ll have to sleep vi­car­i­ously through Max, my cat.

There are cal­en­dars to scrap­book, pho­tos to trim

Crop­ping my belly to make me look slim,

Or­na­ments to paint, and beaded pins to do

So we’ll have enough gifts for Mom, Dad and Lou.

I’ve been stuck in the kitchen, cook­ing and bak­ing

All the sweet good­ies this De­cem­ber I’m mak­ing:

Fudge, haystacks, tof­fee and short­bread,

Mint bark and cook­ies as big as your head.

At least that’s ac­com­plished, the sweet treats are done

And mak­ing them was mostly a time of great fun.

‘Til I burned the chocolate and filled the house with smoke,

The four of us coughed and gagged and choked.

We stum­bled out­side for a breath of fresh air

Looking like clowns as we were stand­ing there

Among all the dé­cor, the snow globes, the lights

The San­tas, elves, snow­men—our house is a sight.

In­side, there’s the tree, and

So the vil­lage was ran­sacked, but we fixed it back up And banned from that room all kit­tens and pups.

But later that day came a cruel sea­son’s trick -

Both of my boys sud­denly be­came sick.

On Tylenol! On Motrin! On cough drops and Tums!

Here’s to long nights, to sneezes and tired, sore bums!

I tucked them with blan­kets, hot fore­heads I kissed

And of­fered con­do­lences for the par­ties they missed.

But this week, they will get to make up for that

With four dif­fer­ent par­ties in just four days flat.

First we’ll have friends over to make ginger­bread,

Then to the Al­lens, the Apt­eds, and back home for our spread.

And on Fri­day morn­ing, af­ter Christ­mas is done

I’ll wake up quite early for my fa­vorite fun.

I’ll be there at Tar­get when they open at seven,

And fill up my cart with half­priced heaven.

Then I’ll come back home, kick off my shoes,

Slip into my jam­mies for I’ll have paid my dues.

And I might just crawl back to my flan­nel-sheet bed

And start rest­ing up for the long win­ter ahead.

Be­fore I go, one last thing I must say

As we rush ever closer to the hol­i­day—

Merry Christ­mas to all, draw your loved ones near.

May God bless you and give you a Happy New Year.

Newspapers in English

Newspapers from USA

© PressReader. All rights reserved.