Twas the Night Before Christmas 2010

Twas the night before Christmas, and here at our house,
Our children were stirring, yet nary a mouse.
For what kind of mouse would be living with us?
The kind who would grumble and mumble and cuss.

The screaming, it starts at the drop of a hat.
It’s quite hard to handle—for even a rat.
Lovie and me are both trying our best.
We can’t restore order. We never get rest.

Such is the case when your triplets are 3.
Of course, they are cute (because, they look like me).
But they bring a clamor to all that they do.
Whenever they’re playing, our house is a zoo.

Our Monster is brash—and he throws quite a fit.
Though after he naps, he’ll quietly sit.
He’ll hug you and snuggle and bust out a smile,
Then leave you and raise holy Hell for a while.

He’s fussy and hyper and kinda mischievous
But good out in public so folks don’t believe us
Whenever we tell them that he’s hard to take.
“Who him?” they will ask us. “Why, he’s sweet as cake.”

Monster, post nap.

Then there is Peanut, who’s really quite loud.
She often runs naked. (We’re both really proud.)
She’s bossy and funny and messy but neat,
Demands to watch Dora from Lovie’s backseat.

Me and Peanut.

Oddly we’ll often just do as she squeals.
Something ‘bout oil and a loud squeaky wheel.
But we’re good with Peanut and all her demands,
‘Cuase we’ve got our Biggs, and he likes to hold hands.

He’s snuggly and quiet—he plays all alone.
With either his train or his red mobile phone.
But that doesn’t mean that our boy wouldn’t spar.
You’d better not touch even one of his cars.

I wasn't kidding about the cars.

Seriously. Not a joke.

Because if you do, he’ll scream awfully loud.
While Monster is busily bouncing around.
And Peanut is shouting ‘bout this or ‘bout that.
And Briggs, our brown dog, is harassing a cat.

Thank goodness for Pookie, she helps us stay calm.
She’s truly a beauty—takes after her mom.
She’s thoughtful and playful and does well in school.
She’s loves to shoot baskets and swim in the pool.

It’s hard to believe that she’s already 9.
Though not my “real” daughter, she sure feels like mine.
I’ve loved her to pieces since she was just 3.
And much like the triplets, she’s precious to me.

Pookie.

Although they are precious, we weren’t planning more.
We’re really quite good with our posse of four.
But add even one and we’d prob’ly go nuts.
That’s what we thought before Dunkin Donuts.

‘Cause that’s where we learned that my Lovie was preggo.
News that was greeted with “No. No. No. No. No.”
Eventually, though, we would both come around.
And then from our hearts, much joy would abound.

My heart that is joyful has also a hole
Because of my sister and her gentle soul.
Although she did well in her fight once again,
The cancer’s the one who would win in the end.

Her battle was epic, and this past July
All of the experts had said she would die.
And though in a coma for 9 days she stayed,
She somehow would answer the prayers that we prayed.

My sister was able to come back to life.
And showed us much beauty through all of her strife.
And though she would leave us just three months from then,
She lives in that hole in our hearts now, my friend.

The joy of the season makes room for the sad.
My sister’s in Heaven right now with my Dad.
And though we all miss them and wish they were here,
Their heavenly Christmas, it fills me with tears.

But isn’t that just what this season’s about?
Feeling the ties that unite us throughout.
Christmas with fam’ly, both here and above.
I think that Christmastime’s all about love.

And so this is how I will finish my rhyme.
With love that has humbled me time after time.
The love that’s He’s woven throughout my whole life.
The love that He’s growing inside of my wife.

We’ve so much to live for, each one of us do.
Perhaps to write poems like this one to you.
Or simply to hold our beloved so tight.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

Here’s a little slideshow from my family to yours. I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season.


Created with Admarket’s flickrSLiDR.

Snowman photo: stock.xchnge

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