'Twas the Day after Christmas

'Twas the day after Christmas and all through the house, 
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. 

Tucked under the covers 'til 10am without spouse, 

I had finally woken alone in my house!

Six am, my family set off for the slopes, bittersweet. 

My recent knee surgery forced me to kick up my feet.

Not before I thrift-shopped my legs off Christmas Eve, for ski pants, gloves and coats fit for teens. 
My husband begrudgingly purchased the tickets, complaining the effort, was less worth the beans.

You see Forced Family Fun is not for the faint of heart. 
Though absolutely better when you can take part!

The whine of the child who hates skiing, or apply for jobs, or for that matter, reading, 

falls on deaf ears to wise 'ole parents of 4 teens.

We may look exhausted tho we are resilient, 

We insist on life skills and believe less screen time is brilliant.

My daughter in tears her boyfriend had parted, 
hadn't realized the fun had only just started!

Never mind it had been a week of sewer pump fail, 

a year of transition, loss and real estate sale. 

Yet as parents we were determined to persevere the ski trail, 

even if mom was forced now to bail!

The shopping, the wrapping, the entertaining and plumbing, 
had taken such a toll on mom, they didn't see it coming! 

That Christmas Eve when she insisted, 
they take off their sweats and plug in their systems. 

And put on dad's sweaters and hop in the van, 
they drug their feet as only obstinate teens can.

The three boys had caused such a fuss, 
It wasn't long before dad, too, began to cuss. 

Mom turned up the Christmas music just as loud as she could, 
and the back seat grew silent as we left the hood.

We didn't expect them to sing in church. 
Just sit there in silence without an outburst.

And stop dripping your brother with candle wax!

Is that really too much for this mother to ask?

One family picture on the altar before we parted, like pulling teeth. 
Bruh. The youngest one farted right under the wreath!

We arrived back home safe and sound, 
only to argue the best Christmas flick, hands down.

Apparently Die Hard is the best Christmas movie, 
said the screenager who threatened to bail if it didn't go smoothly.

So there we were Yippee-Ki-Yay mother suckers, 
without whim or worry 'bout those stocking stuffers.

You see, mom believes in the magic through and through, 
whether toddler, or teen, or our dog the Schnoo.

Who scored a pig ear, femur bone and new collar,

and whose jaws were then too tired to holler.

Or bark at the squirrel who fell right out of the tree,

and met a demise worse than my knee.

I found myself, 'er Santa, tip toeing long past my bedtime, 
praying I didn't fall down dark stairs 'round 1am prime.

I pulled off the ruse, yet again this year. 
Which is why I deserve a rest today, didn't you hear?

A leisurely lunchtime with old friends, 
some wine and less whine, the best stipend.

For a year of exhaust and blessings and more. 
I'm grateful we survived more adventures of lore.

Cheers to you and yours,

And more Forced Family Fun sure to come in '24!