Twas the day before Christmas, the house was a mess.
My hair was all frizzy, this must be a test.
My husband's still sleeping, I just didn't care.
I tripped on a truck and flew up in the air.
On doll shoes, on marbles, on tea sets and crayons.
On blankies, on Legos, so much to lay on.
I dropped on them all like a mother of four.
I'll not have another, by God, this I swore.
I stomped to their bedroom by this time a fright,
swung open the door. What I saw wasn't right.
No clothes on the floor, no shoes in the bed.
No baseballs or footballs. Just neatness instead.
Away from the room, I flew down the hall,
threw open a door and gasped at it all!
Their t-shirts were folded and placed on a shelf.
Ribbons and bows they'd collected themselves.
One more I would try as I crept down the hall
and opened the door, making sense of it all.
One grinning husband, so handsome, so bright,
"We waited until you had gone nighty-night."
I brushed my sore elbow and smoothed out my jeans.
The spirit of Christmas was here, so it seemed.
Life is a gift that always surprises.
It twists and it turns. It brings many crises.
But when you're not looking too closely it brings
the love of a family. The sweetest of things.