Cussing at Christmas

Cussing at Christmas

by me:  The Zookeeper

This poem is inspired by what happens to me every year and by how my kids act every year... I just hope we're not the only ones this happens to... (Oh, by the way, this should be rated PG13 for a little explicit language... sorry)

I love Christmas and what it means; our Saviors’ birth, his life and love, no doubt.
So why is it the only time of the year when I seem to cuss and shout?

It all begins when I pull out the totes, the big green ones, you see,
Full of decorations, balls, stockings, candy canes for the blasted tree!

The lights that I so carefully coiled and placed in the popcorn cans,
Somehow during summer months, tied themselves in knots unworthy of my hands.

I gently lift them out, and start to unwind the sparky blouts,
Ooops, a knot, a bigger one, and that’s when I start to shout!

Any poor soul who dares enter the room among flying bulbs and cords
When I’m fighting with the Christmas lights, may hear some very bad words.

"These lights, they worked last year, I swear they did, I saw them!
So why do only half of them work when this year I plug them in?"

Now the floor is littered with lights, and half the hair off my head,
I carefully push in each tiny bulb until 2 a.m. when I quit and go to bed.

The next day finds a fresh resolve to get the lights on the tree,
This time with Christmas music playing, “come on kids, come decorate with me”.

The kids have a horrified look on their face – “uuh, that’s okay mom we’ll pass,”
They go out side to do something, ANYTHING, but be around to hear “jack ass!”

“These stupid lights, make me so mad, *#@%! *%#&, @#$%, I hate them, turn on for pete’s sake!
And then... behold I must have wiggled the cord just right; look, the tree looks great!”

Now with the lights upon the tree, all sparkling, shining steady,
The back door opens just a crack, it’s quiet, then I hear, “mom, you ready?”

“Yes!” I say, “come on inside, the lights are on and shining bright,
But if you bump them you’re gonna die, and guys, nobody fight.”

The kids put up some decorations; they go on without a word,
And then I hear, “hey, I wanted that one, give it back, you ugly turd.”

“I had it first, you big dummy give it back, now look, you broke it!”
Balls smash, ornaments crash; mom says another explicative, “aw @^it!”

And so another tradition goes on, we cuss around the tree,
Fighting and decorating, laughing and heckling, it’s fun, can’t you see?

Now with the tree decorated just right, all cussing is done for the year,
We pull out the boxes with the best decoration of all, to me they are so dear.

It’s the nativity scenes, I have so many, they go all over our home,
We put them on tables, book shelves, the floor to remind us wherever we roam,
That Christmas is about being like Christ, every day, all through the year.
Repent of your cussing, your fighting and meanness, serve others, be kind, spread cheer.

The Prophet reminded us not to stress out over unimportant things of the season,
But focus our time on serving Christ; be with family, think of others, if not, it’s treason.

We should celebrate Christmas all year long, not just in the month of December.
Don’t let things like messing with lights or shopping make you not remember
And turn you into the cussing person, who is stressed out; her mind is gone,
Instead, take a breath, slow down, relax, and let someone else put the lights on.