Twas The Night Before Christmas-My Version

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

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The underwear was hung by the chimney with care,

Even the Spiderman ones were there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

Except for the little one who coslept and breastfed.

And I sat down to rest,

As I thought about tackling the large mess.

When from somewhere in the house there arouse such a clatter,

I ran to the living room and saw the tree all a splatter.

Ornaments and trinkets lay all in a jumble,

But no one was there, so I began to mutter and mumble. 

Away to the bedrooms I flew like a flash,

I tore open the doors as I heard another crash.

The toys and the clothes lay strewn in a pile,

And gave the appearance of a mountain as high as a mile. 

 

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a tiny baby and three sets of eyes that shed not a single tear.

With mischievous grins and giggling so loud,

I knew in a moment it must be my children, not very proud. 

Louder than an avalanche, we heard the pounding of feet,

As my husband’s footsteps came quickly, having leapt from his seat.

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Ayden! now, Regan! now, Nora and Oliver!

To bed with you now or Santa will not come to call!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So into the bed, the children they flew,

With their arms full of toys and a drink of water too. 

And then, I retreated, back to the living room,

Knowing too well that I needed more than a broom.

As I stood there and grumbled to myself,

My husband approached and began replacing items to the shelf.

As we tackled the mess, we heard a new sound,

And the pitter patter of little feet was abound. 

They stood there, just staring, 
While I looked back, still glaring. 

Their clothes were mismatched and appeared with a stain,

I yelled at them to stop being such a pain. 

They looked solemn and sad,

Yet I still felt too mad. 

Their eyes—full of tears! Their smiles—now frowns!

They no longer looked like jovial clowns.

With a turn of their heads and a step in their pace,

They quickly began working, as if completing a race. 

They spoke not a word, and went quickly to work,

Picking up the clutter with not one smirk. 

After surveying the damage and completing the task,

I looked at my children, with a question to ask. 

The words slipped my mind, as I watched them sit and stare,

At the twinkling of lights on the tree, as if they were diamonds so rare. 

My husband and I ushered them back to bed,

And I gently patted them each on the head. 

I sat down beside them and told them good night,

And I turned away to shut off the light.

We said “I love you” and closed the door,

And I felt a bit less annoyed than I had before.

But I heard them exclaim as we left their rooms, “we love you”

And I knew that yes, they truly do.

Despite all the messes and the chaos that surrounds us,

They don’t really mean to make such a fuss. 

I stopped to look back at the bedroom door,

And counted my blessings once more. 

It had been a very long night, 

But I knew everything was now all right. 

There was still wrapping to do and gifts to set out,

but I knew nothing could compare to their joy, without a doubt.

As I walked down the stairs and knew I was out of sight,

I said “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."

Despite everything, I feel very blessed to have my children and truly feel that they are miracles, even if my days are sometimes chaotic and crazy. I found a few other good versions of Twas the Night Before Christmas too.

For the Moms

For the Troops

Politically Correct Version

Another Politically Correct Version (video)

The Classic

Our New Christmas Tradition

My husband set up a place for the Christmas tree, and we finally started decorating a few nights ago. As we looked through the box of ornaments, we found something peculiar. A brand new pair of Spiderman underwear. Apparently, it had accidentally been packed up after gifts were opened last year, with the Christmas stuff.

So, my son, being the little comedian that he is, hung the underwear from the tree and proudly exclaimed, "Merry Christmas."

I told him I will hang his underwear from the tree every year now, which he thought was hilarious. He asked if I was joking, and I told him no, I will do it every year now. I think it will be especially funny when he brings home people in the future and they see his undies on display.

I cannot remember where I read it now, but I think another blogger has this same tradition in her home. What traditions do you have during the holidays?

Questioning Santa Claus

We sat down to dinner one night and my daughter and son were excitedly whispering about Christmas. My daughter said something about Santa, to which my son replied, "You know, some people believe in Santa, but other people do not." He then proceeded to talk about Santa not being real.

My heart sank for a moment, as I think he is way too early to question the reality of Santa. I know parents that tell their children from the start that Santa is not real, but we do allow our children to believe. My daughter, the princess, believes with all of her heart. She is innocent and precious, and she does not question what is said to her. My son, the inquisitive one, questions everything and anything. He will often engage in hour long conversations about something, and will have no less than one hundred questions about a particular topic.

I wondered if he heard this from other kids or saw it on TV. When I asked him about it, he told me he just thought it up on his own, which seems true to his character. I asked others for their advice, should I let him in on the secret of Santa or try to keep the belief alive? I opted to try and keep the belief alive, at least for another year. I questioned him on why Santa was not real, and I asked him how he thought children received presents on Christmas. After some thinking, he decided that maybe he could continue to believe Santa was real. I think he was still harboring some lingering doubts, but I told him we will see on Christmas if any presents appear.

Last night, I used one of those calls from a Santa website to have "Santa" call the children. I put the phone on speaker, so both of the older children could hear the call. Santa told them to keep being good, and to make sure they leave carrots out for his reindeer. My children stood, staring in amazement and awe, as Santa spoke to them on the phone.

My son came and sat with me in the kitchen after the call, questioning how I knew Santa's phone number and seemed a bit dubious about the reality of the call. He then sat and considered the reality of Santa again, before deciding that we needed to get carrots right way, because Santa told him too. So, I think the belief is still alive in my son, even if he remains a bit skeptical.

How old were your children when you told them the truth about Santa? We believe in letting the children have that special thing to believe in, but we also convey the importance of giving to others and letting them share in the joy of giving presents too.