Womb and Bored

Womb and Bored

Monday, December 26, 2016

'Twas the Night After Christmas---Mom's Edition

'Twas the Night After Christmas, and all through the houses...
The women all sat, resenting their spouses.
The stockings were thrown on the floor without care.
In hopes that the relatives weren't all still there.
The children were high from the candy and crap.
While everyone feared that last gift they must wrap.
And daddy, hungover, and mommy still drunk.
Were trying to find a place for the junk.
When from the next room there arouse such a clatter.
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.
Away to the kitchen, I crawled like a turtle.
Stepping on legos, and toys I did hurdle.
The filth in the kitchen from the food I did bake.
Stood as clear evidence of bad choices I make.
When, what to my puffy, tired  eyes should appear
But the realization that there was no more beer.
And if that wasn't enough to make me upset.
There was also the Hatchimal that put me in debt.
And lots of other shit I had no place to store.
Were fucking up my French-cafe' kitchen decor.
The Pokemon, the Barbies, the Games, and puzzles.
The dolls and the clothing---unfortunately no muzzles.
Toys to the window, and toys to the wall.
Toys in the family room and even the hall!
As my paper cuts burned from the cheap Christmas wrapping.
My hibernating husband, in his man cave a-napping.
While I tried so hard and with all of my might.
To sell all our old shit on the Swap and Sell site.
Looking like a show, for people who hoard.
As my oldest then says, "Hey mommy, I'm bored".
A bundle of toys he had piled by his feet,
"Mom, I'm hungry.  Can I have a treat?"
His breath---how it smelled.  His fingers, so sticky.
How can someone so gross, be so fucking picky?
Not a vegetable all season, did anyone eat.
Only two food groups consumed...sugary and sweet.
Which probably explains my new rounded shape.
How many times can one fucking lose tape?
And in my many attempts to be so discreet,
I can't seem to find that one fucking receipt.
I've looked in the bags, I've looked on the shelf,
You know who probably took it?  That bastard, the elf.
But the good news is, he's gone till next year.
That immobile red fuck and his holiday cheer.
This two week break, leaves a truth that's well-known
I can't wait to use the bathroom alone.
And escape from the toys that are missing a piece.
While the family doth watch my patience decrease.
The laundry still piled, and the dishes still dirty.
And it's only 2 mother-fucking 30.
So I ain't going to whisper, instead I will shout.
Happy Christmas to all, mom's going out.