‘Twas the Night Before Christmas Parodies

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas Parodies
‘Twas the Night Before Christmas Parodies

Have you read any ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas Parodies’ – those funny, sarcastic renditions of the iconic poem that was published 193 years ago? Christmas IS a time for giving, being with family, relaxing (depending on how many vacation days one gets!) but at the same time, it is so easy for us to become overwhelmed, stressed, and easily irritable!  Let’s be honest, running around the mall, last minute, with all the other procrastinators, can bring the devil out of anyone, right?!  And not everyone is blessed with the perfect family that gets along like they’re “supposed to” at this time of year!

Check out these parodies – whether you need a good laugh or just a gentle reminder of all life’s blessings. Happy Holidays!

‘TWAS THE BREASTFEEDER’S NIGHTTIME

‘Twas a holiday eve and the babe was asleep,
Swaddled tight in his crib he made not a peep.
My boobs were depleted from feeding all day.
“Please don’t wake. Sleep all night,” to the babe I did pray.
But his lips, how they moved, as he lay in his bed.
Visions of milky breasts danced in his head.
Dad in his boxers and I in my sweats,
Could we get some shuteye? Go ahead, place your bets.
The moon on the breast of my t-shirt did glow,
Gave a luster to leaking spots set to grow.
My nursing pads were soaked, they fell out of place.
My bra had unsnapped. How I missed sexy lace.
For months I’d been feeding our babe everywhere.
Coffee shop, park bench, museum, movie chair.
All my modesty gone, nothing shy anymore.
If the kiddo was crying, I knew how to score.
And now with the holidays, things often got dire.
While out buying gifts, I sometimes drew ire.
I breastfed in clothing stores. Changing rooms rock.
I breastfed in bookstores. To the stacks I did flock.
When from the babe’s room there arose such a clatter.
We sprang from our bed to see what was the matter.
Away to his room we flew with a flash,
Threw open the door, in the dark I did crash.
What a klutz I can be, ‘twas those bags made me fall.
Sacks for our trip, all arranged in the hall.
We were going to Grandma’s, a five hour drive.
Holiday time—Will I make it alive?
One big huge duffle held all the babe’s stuff.
Diapers, wipes, onesies. Did I bring enough?
Now don’t forget burp cloths, crib sheets and toys.
Books and Bjorn, we’ll exhibit such poise.
On breast pump, on bottles, on stroller and boppy.
On car seat, on cradle, on blanket and binky.
Fill the back of the car, fill the trunk with our haul.
And we’ll drive away, drive away, drive away all.
Now don’t forget stopping to feed long the way.
Gas stations, McDonalds and rest stops, oy vey.
Of course there’ll be lots of those diapers to do.
Get out the Purell, you’ll be covered in poo.
When we finally arrive, now what will await?
Lots of food and embraces, it’ll be really great.
No, no one will not fight. I will not shed a tear.
Ok, a white lie— but rejoice in who’s here.
And what about wine or a champagne or two?
Will it make my milk bad? Old wives tale or true?
And will anyone say, “Can he now take a bottle?”
“How long will you breastfeed?” How these questions can throttle.
Now back to that “clatter,” the babe and that noise.
We had rushed right on in, leaping over the toys.
When what to our wondering eyes did appear,
Our babe still asleep, oh how sweet, oh how dear.
His cheeks, how they glistened, his hair soft and furry.
And I smiled when I saw him, despite all my worry.
How delicious, his belly, moving in and then out.
How precious, his lips in a sweet little pout.
He had not woken up! He did not need to eat.
He had had quite enough, his day quite complete.
And so back to our bed we did quietly crawl.
Happy Holidays to one, happy sleeping to all.

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS (for dieters)

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all round my hips
Were Fannie May candies that sneaked past my lips.
Fudge brownies were stored in the freezer with care
In hopes that my thighs would forget they were there.

While Mama in her girdle and I in chin straps
Had just settled down to sugar-borne naps.
When out in the pantry there arose such a clatter
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the kitchen I flew like a flash,
Tore open the icebox then threw up the sash.
The marshmallow look of the new-fallen snow
Sent thoughts of a binge to my body below.

When what to my wandering eyes should appear
A marzipan Santa with eight chocolate reindeer!
That huge chunk of candy so luscious and slick
I knew in a second that I’d wind up sick.

The sweet-coated santa, those sugared reindeer
I closed my eyes tightly but still I could hear;
On Pritzker, on Stillman, on weak one, on TOPS
A Weight Watcher dropout from sugar detox.

From the top of the scales to the top of the hall
Now dash away pounds now dash away all.
Dressed up in Lane Bryant from my head to nightdress
My clothes were all bulging from too much excess.

My droll little mouth and my round little belly,
They shook when I laughed like a bowl full of jelly.
I spoke not a word but went straight to my work
Ate all of the candy then turned with a jerk.

And laying a finger beside my heartburn
Gave a quick nod toward the bedroom I turned.
I eased into bed, to the heavens I cry–
If temptation’s removed I’ll get thin by and by.
And I mumbled again as I turned for the night
In the morning I’ll starve… ’til I take that first bite!

 TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS (for moms)

It was the night before Christmas when all thru the abode
Only one creature was stirring and she was cleaning the commode.
The children were finally asleep all snug in their beds,
While visions of Nintendo 64 and Barbie, flipped through their heads.
The dad was snoring in front of the TV,
With a half-constructed bicycle on his knee.
So only the mom heard the reindeer hooves clatter,
Which made her sigh, “Now what’t the matter?!”

With toilet bowl brush still clutched in her hand,
She descended the stairs, and saw the old man.
He was covered with ashes and soot, which fell with a shrug.
“Oh great,” muttered the mom, “Now I have to clean the rug.”

“Ho-ho-ho!” cried Santa, “I’m glad you’re awake.”
“Your gift was especially difficult to make.”
“Thanks, Santa, but all I want is some time alone.”
“Exactly!” he chuckled, “I’ve made you a clone.”

“A clone?” she asked, “What good is that?
Run along, Santa, I’ve no time for chit-chat.”
The mother’s twin. Same hair, same eyes,
Same double chin.

“She’ll cook, she’ll dust,” She’ll mop every mess.
You’ll relax, take it easy, Watch The Young & the Restless.”
“Fantastic!” the mom cheered. “My dream come true!
“I’ll shop. I’ll read., I’ll sleep a whole night through! ”

From the room above, the youngest began to fret.
“Mommy?! I scared… and I am wet.”
The clone replied, “I’m coming, sweetheart.”
“Hey,” the mom smiled, “She knows her part.”

The clone changed the small one, and hummed a tune,
as she bundled the child, in a blanket cocoon.
“You the best mommy ever. ” I really love you.”
The clone smiled and sighed, “I love you, too.”
The mom frowned and said, “Sorry, Santa, no deal. ”
That’s my child’s love, she’s trying to steal.”
Smiling wisely Santa said, “To me it is clear, ”
Only one loving mother, is needed here.”

The mom kissed her child, and tucked her into bed.
“Thank you, Santa, for clearing my head.
I sometimes forget, it won’t be very long,
When they’ll be too old, for my cradle-song.”

The clock on the mantle began to chime.
Santa whispered to the clone, “It works every time.”
With the clone by his side Santa said, “Goodnight. Merry Christmas, Mom, You’ll be all right.”

 



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