'Twas the day after Christmas....

'Twas the day after Christmas, and I stretched in my bed;
I considered getting up, but rolled over instead.

See, I ate so much for dinner last night, I felt like I'd probably hurl;
I went to bed feeling sick in my guts. The contents of my stomach did swirl.

Then, somewhere in the house, there arose such a clatter;
I propped up on one elbow, trying to hear what was the matter.

From the noise I could tell there were two kids awake.
They were fighting quite loudly; I could feel the walls shake.

I took a deep breath, counting backwards from ten;
Before I settled things my way: by choking both of them.

I rolled slowly out of bed, and put on my pajama pants
And wished, for once in their lives, my kids could just give peace a chance!

As I walked out of the bedroom to break up the fight,
I inhaled sharply, overwhelmed by the sight.

It looked as if the house, by a tornado, had been struck;
Or some vandals broke in, and had run all amuck.

There was wadded up wrapping paper everywhere, wall-to-wall;
Empty boxes and ribbons and bows filled the hall.

Candy wrappers were littered, strewn about on the floor.
A six foot pile of garbage seemed to block the garage door.

There were computer games and jewelry lying carelessly around;
Superhero figurines and naked Barbies all over the ground.

The carnage of Christmas left its mark everywhere;
My house was a pigsty, but the kids didn't care.

They were still busy yelling, about what? I don't know.
I was planning my escape, wondering where I could go.

My first stop, of course, was my Zoloft to take;
Swallowed it with some milk, chased by a big piece of cake.

"Mom, she ate my candy!" I did hear one complain.
"No I didn't, you liar!" was the other's refrain.

Then I heard a loud thud, and a child start to cry.
I ran quickly upstairs, so to ascertain why.

The child in question was found crying and scared,
Having tripped on her rollerblades in her descent down the stairs.

Giving comfort and kisses, I explained without heat,
Of the wisdom of walking down the stairs in bare feet.

As I caught just a whiff of the injured offspring,
I realized that neither she nor her siblings

Had taken a shower in who knows how long,
And needed some bathing; that smell was just wrong!

Then the nagging began, and the floodgates sprang wide:
"Mom, I need to exchange these; they're all the wrong size!"

"Can I please have someone over here to play with me?"
"You promised to take us to see High School Musical 3!"

"Mom, let's take down the decorations today!"
"Mom, make her leave me alone and go away!

If only they knew that, if I got to choose,
I'd go back to my bedroom, lock the door, take a snooze.

Good sleep is a luxury that avoids me at all costs;
Snoring hubby, kids with nightmares, bed wetters - all is lost.

I then encourage the kids to write notes of thank you;
It doesn't seem like that's too much to ask them to do.

They act as if I asked them to eat their own liver
Or gnaw off their right hand; so dramatic. Go figure!

And it goes this way here at Christmas, the day after,
So to keep me from crying, and perhaps create laughter

I write down this poem, thought it up in a snap,
To restore mild sanity amidst all this crap.

If I can survive this day, without maiming someone I know,
It will be a miracle in word and deed....Yeah, right....Ho Ho Ho.