Twas The Night Before Christmas !

Today reminded me of the poem, "The Night Before Christmas" written by Clement Clarke Moore (1779-1863). It is also known as "A Visit From St. Nicholas" and was written in 1822. Prior to the writing of the poem, Saint Nicholas, the patron saint of children, was never associated with sleighs or reindeer.

Believed submitted to the New York Sentinel by family friend, Miss H. Butler, it was published December 23, 1823, under the condition that the author remain anonymous. It was an immediate success and Moore claimed credit to the poem in 1844, when he included it in a book of his poetry. The traditional reading of the poem on Christmas Eve has remained a world tradition ever since.

My parents read the poem to us on many a Christmas Eve and the images created in a child's mind was (and is) a power that far exceeds any computer today or that will ever be.

My intent was to print the poem today, if only to recreate in my mind, the wonderful visions that ran through my head as my mother read the story to me. As I was searching the Internet for the poem, I came across a parody which gave me even further insight as to what was possibly going through my mother's mind as she read it to us.

For this reason, I will simply give you a link to the original poem, should you wish to read it. http://www.carols.org.uk/twas_the_night_before_christmas.htm

In its stead, I'll share with you the following entitled;

The Night before Christmas for Moms

                 

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the abode, only one creature was stirring and she was cleaning the commode

The children were sleeping, all snug in their beds while visions of Nintendo danced through their heads

The dad was there snoring, 'front of the TV, with a half finished bicycle, stuck tight on his knee.

So only the mom, heard the reindeer hooves clatter, which made her remark, "Now what is 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, which fell with a shrug, "Oh great," muttered mom, "Now I'll clean the rug."

"Ho-ho-ho!" cried old Santa, "I'm glad you're awake, your gift was especially difficult to make."

"Thank you dear Santa, but I want time alone." Exactly!" he chuckled, "I've made you a clone."

"A clone?" she asked smiling, "Now what good is that? Run along, dear old Santa, I've no time for chit-chat."

"She'll cook, she'll dust, she'll mop every mess. You'll relax, take it easy, watch TV and rest."

"Fantastic!" the mom blurted. "My dream has come true! I'll shop, I'll read, I'll sleep the night through! "

From the room up above, the youngest did fret. "Mommy? Come quickly, I'm scared and I'm wet."

The clone turned and called, "I'm coming,sweetheart." - "Hey", the mom smiled, "She does know her part."

The clone changed the small one, and hummed a sweet tune, as she bundled the child, in a blanket cocoon.

"You the best mommy ever.  I really love you." The clone smiled and sighed, "and I love you, too."

 The mom frowned and said sadly, "Sorry, Santa, no deal. That's my daughter's love that she's trying to steal."

Santa smiled wisely, "To me it is clear, only one loving mother, is needed in here."

The mom kissed her child, and tucked her in bed. "Thank you, dear Santa, for clearing my head."

I sometimes forget, for it won't be long, when they'll be too old, for my cradle-song."

The clock on the mantle began its' slow chime. Santa whispered and uttered, "It works every time."

So Santa smiled softly and bid her goodnight, "Merry Christmas, dear Mother" and slipped out of sight.

~Author Unknown~edited and abridged

The Pictures: My pal, Garnett, sent me these pictures of Christmas trees from all over the world. If I can find where I stored the email, I'll even give you the locations of each picture. In the interim, most of the locales are fairly easy to ascertain.

This Date In History: 1814; Great Britain and the United States sign the Treaty of Ghent, formally ending the War of 1812. 1851; A fire at the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C., destroys about two-thirds of its 55,000 volumes, including two-thirds of Thomas Jefferson's personal library. 1906; The first radio program is broadcast.

The Hits Just Keep On Coming:

A man goes to his blonde girlfriend's house and when he enters he finds she has adopted two puppies. He pets them and says, "They're cute. What's their names?" The blonde replies, Rolex and Timex."

The man says, "How could you possibly call them Rolex and Timex?" The blonde replies, "Duh ! They're watchdogs !"

                     

That's it for today my busy little elves . Merry Christmas to you and your families. More tomorrow.

Stay Tuned !

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