'Twas the Night Before Christmas, Special-Needs Mom Version

© Kiriill Ryzhov | Dreamstime

This is a parody I wrote of "A Visit from St. Nicholas" (a.k.a. "'Twas the Night Before Christmas") by Clement Clarke Moore or Henry Livingston, Jr., depending on whom you believe.

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the home
Not a creature was stirring, except for the mom;
With medical bills spread wide on her desk,
She hoped that a fairy would come grant her some rest.

The dad and the kid were all snug in their beds,
While cars zoomed in circles inside of their heads;
And mom with her to-do list on a long paper scrap
Couldn't stop dreaming about a very long nap,

When on the front door there arose three soft knocks,
Mom heaved herself up in her hole-y old socks;
She shuffled to the door, with her hand on her back,
And then she unlocked it and pushed it open a crack.

She said “Who is there?” and at first she saw nothing,
Then she caught sight of a twinkling and fluttering;
When, what to her wondering eyes she should see
But a glitt’ry winged girl—a sugar-plum fai-ry.

With the fairy’s sweet smile and her kind hazel eyes,
Mom knew in a moment relief had arrived;
The fairy said she knew what worries to blame
For Mom’s weariness; then, she called them by name:

“Appointments! IEPs! Emergencies, medical!
Tough choices! Fears ‘bout things real and theoretical!
Get into my bag! And go up that wall!
Then melt away! Melt away! Melt away all!”

The wind blew from the north; conditions were right
For the sugar-plum fairy to go upward in flight,
So up to the house-top the fairy she flew,
With the bag full of wearies and her glitt’ry wand, too.

And then, in a moment, Mom heard on the roof
A crackle, a sizzle, and then a big poof!
As Mom gasped aloud and put her hand to her lips,
Through the mail slot Miss Sugar-Plum came in a zip.

She was dressed in deep purple, from her head to her toes—
Her headband, her waistcoat, her slippers with bows;
The bag that she carried, once drab-gray, now silver
Made it obvious she had grand things to deliver.

Her eyes—how they sparkled! Her dimples, how sweet!
Her hair-do was simple—in waves, nice and neat;
She beamed and she wiggled and burst out with delight:
“I have something for you that I think you will like!”

The long silver wand she held tight in her hand,
A silvery shimmer trailing behind in a band;
“Please open my bag, see what it does store!”
Mom opened it and found her wearies were no more!

The IEPs were now tea bags of mint and chamomile;
The bills were now journals embellished with frill;
The worries had turned into books full of hope;
The to-do list had turned into soft scented soap.

“Last but not least, I do free babysitting
So you can get sleep, take up running or knitting—
And oh, one more thing, how could I forget?
A new pair of socks—you could use these, I bet.”

She grinned wide as gingerbread men at Mom, whom she saved,
Then fluttered out the door and turned around with a wave;
Before flying away, through the door crack she peeped—
“I wish you a Merry Christmas and a night full of sleep.”