So this past week has sure been a rough one to say the least. Since I’m kind of laid up right now I figured I might as well use this time to be all scholarly like. Perhaps I could take this time to show you all that I do have some other talents besides being all awesometastic in the kitchen. haha Actually I was just being silly. See ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas is a book my Dad read to me every night for at least a month straight growing up. That was our time. I can still remember crawling up on his lap, the book too big for me to hold or even lift and him reading to me. He’d read it all stately and in a very movie-esque voice and as the years went by and I learned how to read we would take turns reading parts of the book.
Yesterday I was lying in bed watching White Christmas (for the 7th time so this season) and I started to think back to my Christmas childhood traditions. Dad was that book and Mom was always, ALWAYS White Christmas and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. White Christmas is a given. The movie is iconic and symbolizes purity, humanity and love for me. I bawl every time I watch it. As for Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, I’m not really sure how or why I relate it so much to Christmas – perhaps that’s when it was on tv (coincidence perhaps?) or heck I don’t know but we’d always watch it.
As I was lying there watching tv I started to kinda say in my head “Twas the night before Christmas…” and it kinda turned into “Twas the week before Christmas…” and could I turn that into what it’s like in my life today; my household. Now before you grammar police come at me, I’m not an English major nor a journalist. I took creative liberties (and pretty much pushed them to the max) on my grammar license and this is what came out. This poem, first ever for me, literally just flowed out with ease. I think this whole thing took me maybe 20 minutes to write. Heck, it took me 2 hours to create the graphic and only 20 minutes to write the poem.
This is what came out.; a TKW Christmas Poem. On a side note, if you double-click on the picture it’ll enlarge to full screen so it’s easier for you to read.
When I finished typing it up I sat in my bed with seriously the biggest grin on my face. I was proud of myself. For not being a writer at all, I think I did pretty well on this. So I called out to Mr. Fantabulous as I wanted him to read it. I wanted to share it but I also didn’t want it to suck so bad that I’d embarrass myself for the world to see (well okay, more than normal since I am a clutz). I asked where he was and he responds “I’m kinda busy right now, what’cha need?” His definition of ‘busy’ was he was on-the-pot. I said “Oh okay, I can wait. I want you to read something. I want to get your opinion.” Then he muttered something to me that I swear only those truly in love (or married forever) will say… “bring it in to me. I’ll read it now.” WHOA! Okay why is it after you’re married there is this whole ‘Open Door’ policy on the bathroom? Like once you say “I Do!” it translates into “I do vow to leave the bathroom door open for all of eternity.” Ahhhhhhhhh…married life, wouldn’t change a thing!
So sure, I took him my laptop and went to sit out in dining room anxiously awaiting his response. I don’t know what’s funnier… his big ol’ belly laughs throughout the poem or the fact that after he was done he said “OMG baby that is so us! That’s hysterical and so true!!! I LOVE it!” He gushed over and over about how awesome it was which seriously I wish you could have seen the smile on my face. I think it went further than ear to ear. I was positively beaming… and then I heard the ‘flush’. LOL Yeah, mood spoiler fyi! He came out cracking up just giving me honest to goodness praise for it.
Now for those that know us both I’m guessing as you read this you’ll be nodding your heads in concurrence thinking “Yep, Lori nailed it! So true!” To those that haven’t met us yet, this is our life and this is how it truly is in our house the week before Christmas!
Now for the legalize/lawyer stuff
*Disclaimer – this poem is copyrighted by The Kitchen Whisperer, LLC. Please review the Terms and Conditions for more information.
The Kitchen Whisperer Week Before Christmas
Twas the week before Christmas
Desserts all through the house.
Not a single thing was fitting
Not even a blouse!
The yoga pants were folded on the shelf with care
In hopes of fitting them over my derriere!
Mr. Fantabulous was nestled all snug in his bed
While visions of workouts danced in his head.
He is in tank shirts and I in my sweats
Rubbing my tummy, full of regrets.
When out in the kitchen came an aroma so intense
I rolled from bed to follow the scent.
Down the hall I wobbled, following my nose
When met with cinnamon rolls, whose taste curled my toes.
Confectioners’ sugar topped cookies dusted like snow
Shined like diamonds on the treats below.
When what to my wondering eyes did appear
But miniature peanut butter cups and 8 tiny chocolate reindeer.
With a glass of milk in hand, frothy and cold
I knew in a moment I lost all self-control.
More rapid than ninjas, those cookies were gone
As I inhaled and shouted, I called them by name!
“Now Chocolate Chip! Now Sugar! Now Peanut Butter and Pecan!
On Thumbprint! On Biscotti! On Chocolate Fudge and Spritz!
To my midsection! To my thighs!
Now expand my butt! Expand away! Expand away all!”
As I lifted my head and turned slowly around
Out to the kitchen came Mr. Fantabulous with a bound.
He was dressed in his tank, sexy from his head to his toes.
He stood there before me, looking down his nose.
No bundle of joy as he stood there in place
He looked at me smirking while wiping chocolate from my face.
My baby blues how they twinkled! Cheesy grin, oh so merry!
My cheeks were all rosy as I extended him a chocolate cherry.
He raised a brow, lips drawn up like a bow;
I popped it into his mouth and hung my head down low.
He had a smile on his face, I had the belly
That shook when I laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
All chubby and plump, a not so jolly old elf
My yoga pants cried as they sat on the shelf.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
Mr. Fantabulous spoke not a word, but went straight to his work.
He demolished the cookies; then turned with a jerk.
He grabbed at my hand, and gave it a squeeze
Said the cookies were his, do not touch them…
Before I could respond, his fingers came to my lips
Standing before me, hand on his hip.
I heard him exclaim as he walked out of the door…
“I love you baby, can you make me some more?”
©The Kitchen Whisperer, LLC 2014