A Middle Aged Woman Laughs at Her Version of Christmas Carols
By: Mary Fran Bontempo

I swear every year that I’m going to cut back, reign in the insanity and not partake in any of the madness, but who are we kidding here? I’m the mom, and despite the fact that my kids are in every way legally adults, if I don’t reenact every stupid tradition I ever started, if the house isn’t decorated with enough Christmas junk to compete with the Griswold’s, if I don’t burn at least several dozen cookies, and if there are no packages under the tree wrapped in multiple papers because I don’t have enough of any one pattern, they’re going to make my life miserable. Not, of course, that it won’t be miserable if I do all of the above, but I’ll risk it to avoid whining kids of any age.

We’re all smack in the middle of the lunacy, and to make the entire enterprise a bit more bearable, I’ve come up with my own version of the venerable holiday favorite “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” Sing along if you dare.

On the first day of the season, a thought occurred to me: I’m stepping headlong into misery.

On day two of the season, a thought occurred to me: This mall is really crowded, and I’m stepping headlong into misery.

On day three of the season, a thought occurred to me: I’ve addressed a hundred cards, this mall is really crowded, and I’m stepping headlong into misery.

On day four of the season, a thought occurred to me: The tree lights just went out, I’ve addressed a hundred cards, this mall is really crowded, and I’m stepping headlong into misery.

On day five of the season, a thought occurred to me: I HATE BAKING COOKIES! The tree lights just went out, I’ve addressed a hundred cards, this mall is really crowded, and I’m stepping headlong into misery.

On day six of the season, a thought occurred to me: I’ve overspent my credit, I HATE BAKING COOKIES! The tree lights just went out, I’ve addressed a hundred cards, this mall is really crowded, and I’m stepping headlong into misery.

On day seven of the season, a thought occurred to me: Where are those *#%! boxes? I’ve overspent my credit, I HATE BAKING COOKIES! The tree lights just went out, I’ve addressed a hundred cards, this mall is really crowded, and I’m stepping headlong into misery.

On day eight of the season, a thought occurred to me: There’s no more wrapping paper, where are those *#%! boxes? I’ve overspent my credit, I HATE BAKING COOKIES! The tree lights just went out….

On day nine of the season, a thought occurred to me: I’m sick of Christmas carols, there’s no more wrapping paper, where are those *#%! boxes? I’ve overspent my credit….

On day ten of the season, a thought occurred to me: Whose idea was eggnog? I’m sick of Christmas carols, there’s no more wrapping paper, where are those *#%! boxes?….

On day eleven of the season, a thought occurred to me: The dog just ate the manger, whose idea was eggnog? I’m sick of Christmas carols, there’s no more wrapping paper….

On day twelve of the season, a thought occurred to me: I’ve gained seven pounds, the dog just ate the manger, whose idea was eggnog? I’m sick of Christmas carols, there’s no more wrapping paper, where are those *#%! boxes? I’ve overspent my credit, I HATE BAKING COOKIES! The tree lights just went out, I’ve addressed a hundred cards, this mall is really crowded… AND I’M STEPPING HEADLONG INTO MISERY!!!!!

Misery loves company. Care to join me?

Have your own version of a favorite carol?  Share by clicking “comments” below, in red.