Twas the Night Before Thanksgiving
Twas the night before Thanksgiving, when there in the house
A small creature was stirring, though it wasn’t a mouse.
The baby was up again, fifth time after midnight
And I started to fear I was losing the fight.
In the dining room place settings had been put out with care
In hopes I would get Facebook likes and a share
There I rocked the baby and stroked his warm cheek
He was teething again, second molar this week.
The preschooler was nestled all snug in his bed
‘Til visions of Darth Vader danced in his head
He woke terrified of the nightmare he’d seen
Daddy soothed him with stories of Jesus and Lightning McQueen.
Then out on the roof there arose such a clatter
Hubby sprang from our son’s room to see what was the matter
The neighborhood kids were out flying their drone
It had crashed in our chimney, and it was stuck prone.
“Can we have it back?” they yelled from the driveway
“Come back in the morning!” hubby yelled, not-too-nicely,
He crawled back into bed hoping for sweet relief
A few hours of shut-eye, some much-needed sleep.
The baby back down, I shut his door with great care
Down the hall I crept silently, whispering a prayer
That the kids would sleep in, that God would grant rest
That tomorrow’s Thanksgiving would not be a mess.
But as dry leaves that before our new leaf blower fly
When met with an obstacle, mount to the sky
So up to the ceiling with a yowl then I flew
I had stepped on some Legos and a Transformer too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard a small cry
The babe had awakened, the preschooler was nigh.
As I drew in my breath and was turning around
Down the hall my husband then came with a bound.
He was dressed in his boxers, and not a stitch more,
I was wearing a stained hoodie from 2004.
“I’ll get the baby,” I mumbled to him.
“The preschooler’s mine,” he said over the din.
My eyes they were bleary, my brain how it strained
My arms were exhausted, my energy drained,
But the baby’s droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the preschooler’s smile was as wide as they go.
We tucked in both boys once again for the night.
We kissed their sweet brows; we snuggled them tight.
We met in the kitchen, it was now 4 a.m.
We weren’t sure whether to try sleep again.
We leaned on the counter; we leaned on each other.
I sighed and he kissed me. “You are a great mother.”
He said with affection and even some joy,
“I’m so very thankful for each of our boys.”
“I’m thankful, too,” I said though my sleepy tears.
“I just wish they’d stay asleep. I’ve been tired for years.”
But laying a finger aside the coffee’s “brew” setting
I exclaimed, “At least some caffeine we’ll be getting!”
I sound like Yoda when the kids have me bested;
Don’t judge me—I used to be smart and well-rested.
Exhausted and blessed, out of patience completely
I had no idea motherhood could so utterly deplete me.
Then we crawled to our bed, before the next day’s feast
And we drifted to dreamland, for an hour at least.
We pulled up the covers, and things were all right.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” I whispered, “and to all a good night!”