‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through our house,

not a creature was quiet. Not even the mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with tape,

and pieces of food – bananas and grapes.

 

The children weren’t nestled, nor snug in their beds.

They were singing and dancing with hats on their heads.

Husband in his t-shirt and I in my sweats,

yelling and shouting “go to sleep!” threats.

 

When at the front porch there arose such a noise,

I went to go see, stepping on toys.

The dogs wagged their tails and let out a bark

and then a large man emerged from the dark.

 

Was it Santa? The one we knew as Saint Nick?

I opened the door to snap a quick pic.

And that’s when I saw his uniform – tan.

Not Santa at all, but the UPS man.

 

The dogs kept on barking, long after he left.

At any small noise, eight miles west.

While the children refused to lie down in their beds.

My temper aflame, my eyes growing red.

 

I begged and I pleaded but to no avail.

Then it occurred to me, “By gosh, I’ll blackmail.”

I stood up and leaned against the bookshelf.

And looked at the young ones, “To bed or else…

 

No chocolate! No Legos! No Frozen! No trains!

No music! No roller skates! No candy canes!

No Batman! No bikes! No Barbie doll!

They’ll dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

 

And that’s when the tears started to fall.

“You’re the meanest mom ever!” the children did call.

But off to their rooms they finally fled,

to fall asleep or pout in their beds.

 

And then, in that instant, I heard on the roof,

the distinct shuffle of a reindeer’s small hoof.

Could it be him? Was it finally the time?

Or was it simply that I’d drank way too much wine?

 

The husband snoring – slumped in his chair.

When, down the Chimney, Santa appeared.

He smiled widely – a rosy cheeked grin.

Then he got out a list and smiled again.

 

“I can’t give you what you asked for, I’m sorry to say.

But the North Pole isn’t where Xanax is made.

And the elves don’t do Vodka. They’re all under age.

And there is no such thing as a ‘child’s cage.’

 

But as my gift to you, I’ll offer advice.

Parenthood’s a mix of both naughty and nice.

There are ups and down. Laughter and shouts.

And times when you’ll want to pull your hair out.

 

But there comes a moment, for what it is worth,

when you will find your own peace on earth.”

Then he motioned me over, to bestow his sage knowledge,

and he whispered in my ear, “Just wait until college.”

 

Featured image via.

While the holidays are equal parts stressful and fun no matter who you are, once you become a mom there’s an added element of something truly special that can only be expressed via the wonderful world of Twitter. Here are the funniest tweets from parents we found about the holiday season!

And let’s be honest, that was not on our list of things to get during the holidays.

Quick, AVERT THEIR EYES. AVERT THEM!

This is equal parts horrifying and hilarious.

The pain and frustration is too real!

A question as old as time: does a mall santa ever get less creepy?!

Amen, sister.

AIN’T THAT THE TRUTH.

And it’s obviously known that rainbows take the biggest of craps.

Must-look-away-but-CAN’T.

Sigh. Can someone spend $300 on us please?!

Really, though! YES!

Those were the days!

 Elf on the Shelf aka bane of our existence.

Terrifying. Just….terrifying. 

It’s no secret that I’m not the hugest Christmas person in the world, which makes no sense, as Christmas has all the makings of a Lisa Newlin favorite holiday.  Food?  Check.  Presents?  Check?  Oversized sweaters to hide the extra cookies you’re smuggling home from grandma’s house? Check.

Wait, why am I not more crazy about this holiday?

One thing I’m definitely not a fan of is Christmas music.  I know.  Ba hum bug.  I just don’t like hearing the same annoying songs every single year for two months.  Forever.  Until I die.  At least Miley Cyrus has an expiration date of when they’ll stop playing her music on the radio. (Fingers crossed.)

But the chipmunks? Those f*ckers will be singing about a flipping hula hoop well after I’ve left this world.

Granted, some holiday songs are more bearable than others, and then there are some that are just weird.  As you may recall, last year I wrote about how “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” was really just a song by a creepy kid.  In that same vein, this year I decided to take another Christmas carol we all merrily sing around the tree and break it down a bit.

Which song did I choose? A song about murder, alcoholism, pill addiction and hope for the holidays.

Let’s get this bad boy started with the beginning line that’s completely grammatically incorrect.

“Grandma got run over by a reindeer,”

Um, please tell me this is what you’re yelling to the 911 operator and not what you’re jotting down as the beginning of a catchy tune.  I sincerely hope you didn’t learn of your me-maw’s demise and immediately think “There’s a jingle in there somewhere, I know it.”  Please tell me CPR was attempted.

“Coming home from our house Christmas Eve.”

Seriously?  You let an elderly woman walk home by herself on Christmas Eve?  If that’s how you treat her during the holiday season, I’d hate to see what you do to her when it isn’t such a hospitable month. Give the woman a ride.  Geez.

“You can say there’s no such thing as santa,
But as for me and Grandpa, we believe.”

Seriously?!  You followed up a declaration that your sweet old granny was murdered with a sentence of hope and believing in a mythical creature?!  I just hope you believed in modern medicine because I suspect old gran needed to believe in some morphine and a neck brace.

“She’d been drinking too much egg nog,”

Okay, now I’m really starting to like this gram, assuming the egg nog was actually bourbon.  Around the holidays, that’s what I call my bourbon just because it sounds more festive than “I’m going to sit by the fire and polish off a pint of bourbon all by myself.”  See?  Egg nog just sounds better.

“And we begged her not to go.”

Um, was me-maw a 300 pound body builder?  Couldn’t you just stop the frail granny from leaving by simply putting your hand across the door jam and taking her walker?  Really?  You had to beg her to stay and when she refused you were all “You’re on your own old hag!”

Nice.  Real.  Fricking.  Nice.

“But she’d left her medication,
So she stumbled out the door into the snow.”

ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!  This woman was drinking and forgot her medication so you let her STUMBLE into the SNOW?!  You guys really are a bunch of a-holes.  Don’t you know that “A Christmas Story” runs on a continuous loop for 24 hours on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day?

Perhaps you should have torn yourself away from that beloved classic for just a few minutes to make sure your arthritic mimi didn’t fall into the snow in her alcohol-induced state.

“When they found her Christmas mornin‘”

YOU DIDN’T EVEN KNOW SHE WAS DEAD UNTIL THE MORNING WHEN SOMEONE ELSE FOUND HER?!  You didn’t bother to check to see if your drunk me-maw who needed her pills made it home in the effing dark?

I find this a little hard to believe if I’m also to believe that you “begged her not to go.”  I’m beginning to think you didn’t care as much about granny as you claim to.

“At the scene of the attack,
There were hoof prints on her forehead,”

I hope at this point you’re feeling at least a little bad about the fact you left her out in the cold to getravaged by wild animals.  And I swear to God if you tell me this was a vampire attack and that Edward Cullen is responsible…I will….just…I will just….

And when you saw the hoof prints on her forehead, please tell me that at least then you called the authorities.  I’m sure CSI could come in to do their thing although I doubt they have a database for hoof prints and their corresponding offenders.

“And incriminatin’ Claus marks on her back.”

What.  The.  Hell?  First of all, what are “Claus marks” and second of all, how are they incriminatin’? And third, do you not know proper English? Not only did you allow for a negligent homicide of your gram-gram, you don’t even know how to formulate words or sentences.  I’m beginning to understand why Gram was such an alcoholic pill popper.

You should be ashamed of yourselves.  Instead of writing a nice eulogy for your Gammy, or perhaps going on the news to warn of the dangers of an “incriminatin’ Claus” and his rag-tag reindeer, you decided to write a holiday jingle about her death and how she was left outside in the snow all night long to die simply because you guys couldn’t be bothered to pull yourselves away from the TV?

But hey, at least you ended the song with an uplifting statement about how some people don’t believe in Santa Claus, but you and Grandpa believe.  I realize you meant to suggest…wait…I have no fricking clue what you meant to suggest.  If you truly believed Santa mowed down your Gams, then of course you believe….because he’s guilty.  You should file a police report.

And why are you writing it like believing in the man who took your sweet Gran away  from this world is a positive thing? Is believing in Charles Manson also something we should sing to our kids about?  I’m thinking you and Grandpa are missing your moral compasses.  Perhaps they’re out in the snow clutched in Gran-Gran’s lifeless hands.

I hope you guys didn’t get anything in the will.

This post was originally featured on Lisa’s blog. Photo via.

1.) A full night’s sleep.

Make this a night when I don’t wake up in the middle of night thinking I hear a kid crying….and the kids are at Grandma’s.

2.) To pee alone.

Really, just one nice relaxing pee where I can wipe properly is all I ask for.

3.) To take an uninterrupted shower.

I don’t care if you want another bowl of oatmeal, my leg hair needs attention!

4.) To eat a leisurely, warm meal.

If we could add a glass of wine I can sip through the meal, that could count as two gifts.

5.) A maid.

I would treat her like royalty for cleaning the inches of dust that has built up on the shelves around my house.

6.) A megaphone.

It might be louder than the kids, which means there might be a chance they’ll listen.

7.) To wear clean clothes for longer than five minutes.

Booger free for five whole minutes would be heaven.

8.) To watch something other than PBS.

I’ve learned how to share, thank you Daniel Tiger.

9.) Sex in the middle of the day.

Mom’s of no napping kids will totally get this one.

10.) A trip to the grocery store that does not involve chasing after kids or hearing the words “can we get this??” a million and one times.

This should be #1.

11.) A personal masseuse.

My feet are tired from going 18 hours a day and my back hurts from carrying the four year old who suddenly forgot how to walk.

12.) A babysitter.

Takes away the begging aspect when I ask people to take my “sweet angels.”

This post was originally featured on Ashlen’s blog, Kidspert. Photo via

Ah, the holidays. The most stressful, er, I mean JOYOUS, time of year! I don’t know about you, but my life is nuts. Between work and the kids and the house and the butt wiping and the dinner cooking and the dish washing and the laundry and the more laundry and themore laundry, I’m at capacity. Some days I truly don’t think I can handle another thing. So adding the holidays, and all the tasks that comes with them, on top of my already full plate is enough to send me over the edge. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE the holidays. It’s a wonderful time of year. I just wish I had some elves to help me get it all done.

And apparently I’m not alone. Responsibility.org, an organization that promotes making responsible choices around drinking alcohol, did some research and found that the holidays, while wonderful, can be incredibly stressful. For moms in particular. Because we’ve got four billion things to do to make the “holiday magic” happen. They also found that one of the unhealthy ways a lot of us cope with the stress is by drinking more. And unfortunately, some parents even drive with their kids in the car after a few too many bevvies.

This issue hits close to home for me because when I was a little girl, my father used to drive drunk with me in the car. I remember zooming through the dark, twisty roads of Vermont gripping onto the side of my seat praying we wouldn’t crash. Praying we’d make it home alive. I begged him to slow down. Asked him to be careful. But he just brushed me off and there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t drive. I couldn’t call a cab. I was a little kid and I was helpless.

I don’t want any child to ever feel the desperation I felt in those moments. So I’ve decided to give back and team up with Responsibilty.org to spread the word about responsible drinking this holiday season. Sure, have a glass of champagne to toast the holidays. But please, don’t have several and get in the car with your kids like my father used to.

Obviously I’m still here. Nothing happened. I was lucky and we never got into an accident. But one of my husband’s family members was not so lucky. She was hit by a drunk driver and died at a very young age.

So when Responsibility.org approached me and asked if I wanted to team up with them and make a funny video about holiday stress I was like, “YES!” You know me, I’d rather laugh than cry any day.

So TADA! Here’s my latest parody! Introducing “The Holidays Are Hell” set to the tune of “Jingle Bells!” ENJOY! A big thank you and shout out to my friends and family who helped me with this one: Aaron Fagerstrom videographer extraordinaire, Jacquie, Liz, Beatmaster Z PhD with his mad break dancing skillz, James, Teacher Cathy and her husband Robert who totally stole the show this time, Gabe and all the adorable life suckers. You guys rocked it! ENJOY! And please share with all the stressed out mamas and papas out there this holiday season!

Here are the Holidays Are Hell lyrics if you want to sing along!

Happy Holidays! xo, Deva

This post was originally featured on Deva’s blog, My Life Suckers