Twas' the Night Before Christmas Eve

Tonight has not been a good night.  I’m way behind, have tons to do and not even close to being ready for tomorrow, Christmas Eve!  My family went to dinner this evening; I stayed behind to finish up some shopping.  I arrived at the garage door, arms full of packages, my family was already home.  At the door I heard what sounded like screaming and horsing around.  When the Middle Child opened the door for me, I was overwhelmed!  My husband’s childhood Christmas tree, which we have used for years and years was on the floor with ornaments all around it.  Earlier in the month I told the kids “this Christmas tree is on its last leg, I don’t think it’s going to make it after this year”.  I guess I was wrong it didn’t make it through this year.  The wooden pole that held all the branches snapped in two.  My brother the Stuntman was over and of course had a movie quote appropriate for the moment.  After the Director said “yep the wood snapped” without missing a beat, the Stuntman piped up “Gee, do they still make wooden Christmas trees?” (From A Charlie Brown Christmas Linus Van Pelt: [after Linus and Charlie Brown discover the little tree]).

Feeling more overwhelmed than I was before, I began to panic!  After several phone calls we thought we found a tree.  The Director and I headed out the door in search of a new one.  Guess what!  There are no decent artificial trees to be found any where!  Wal-Mart only had Christmas chocolates left and already had up 4th of July stuff!  What in the heck happened to New Years, Valentines Day, St. Patrick’s Day, Easter, and Memorial Day?!  Anyway, as the night played out, I thought of another fateful night, before Christmas Eve, many years ago, when Oldest was five.  I wrote the following after a long night in the ER in 1999.  Enjoy!


Twas the night before Christmas Eve, 1999, the children were screaming and all was not fine.

The house was trashed; the outlook was fair, that Mama would have enough time to prepare.

The children horsed around instead of going to bed; one got hit with a snow globe, right in the head.

Mama became frantic and Daddy remained tranquil, as the oldest child’s mouth with blood it did fill.

When towels, bibs and wash clothes began to fly, all Mama needed was one to wet, oh my!

A gash Daddy assessed, was what he had, a trip to the emergency room, boy mama was mad.

Dumped the youngest (now known as the Organized Child) with a friend, and off to the hospital, for a lip to mend.

Daddy rode in back to help sop up the blood; Mama drove like a tornado plowing through mud.

Hurry to the emergency room only to wait, what was the outcome what would be the fate.

More rapid than postmen, the triage he came; to my son he tried to call but didn’t understand his name.

Was it first name or was it last, oh what could it be?  He just motioned for us to come over, the two of them and me.

Into the triage area for vitals, to evaluate, it won’t be long now, back to the other room, only to wait.

Mama’s off to fill out paperwork, while Daddy comforts Oldest, as Mama tells the lady “I’m going bizerk!”

Finally back to the ER, they all went to see, just how bad the assessment of the gash would be.

The nurse he came in, and gave us the news, Mama wanted to cry like she had the baby blues.

Papoosing her oldest and stitches it would take, to fix his little lip, oh for goodness sake.

Mama and Daddy tried to prepare the little man, as the nurse Jesse came over and began.

A mustache of goo, to numb his lip, so that when suturing began Oldest would not flip.

Papoosed on a board, Oldest was handling it well, the doctor entered to start and Mama left before ill, she fell.

His voice they heard, when the shot it was given, Mama would have cried, had she been with him.

In entered another nurse, to talk and distract, while the doctor and Jesse used three stitches, to hold his lip in tact.

When Mama returned, a baby she heard screaming, O please Lord, don’t let that be my child screaming.

Out came the other nurse and said he was fine, they were talking of boots and bikes and Oldest was done crying.

When the door opened wide the doctor he departed, the air in the room was very light hearted.

Jesse gave the follow up instructions in a flash; he explained very thoroughly how to care for the gash.

He said Oldest did great, better than most adults he had seen.  Mama new he was brave, like the Little Toaster he’d been.

With instructions in hand, we were sent on our way, only to return for a check-up on Christmas day.

Weary and worn as we drove out of site, Mama was exhausted; this has not been a good night.

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