The Home Cook’s Real Night Before Christmas

December 18, 2015 | By | Comments (0)

Twas the night before Christmas, not a creature was looking,

Except mama. Who is NEVER DONE COOKING.

The apron was on, tied up with care

In hopes that she could keep the pie filling out of her hair.

 

The casseroles made, while dad tucked kids into bed

As visions of new toys danced in their heads

And ma in her slippers, cause she’s so done with heels

Listens to Adele Pandora and gets all the feels.

 

When from the fire alarm there arose such a clatter

She sprang from her daydream to see what was the matter

Away to the oven she flew like a flash

Wiped off the glass and said something crass.

Woman Cooking With Fire!

Well that’s one way to heat up the house.

The sweet potatoes on the door of the brand new oven

Were spilling over and giving all the inside some serious lovin’.

Her eyes they did wander, straight to the kids’ DIY craft sleigh

Which she lovingly moved aside to find the Chardonnay

 

With a twist of the wrist, so lively and quick

She burst through the foil and poured a glass, quick!

More rapid than eagles, her tears now they came

She cursed them and shouted, and called recipes by name!

 

“Now spiral ham! Now, squash! Now, roll dough do grow!

On jell-o salad! On, green beans! On, stupid sweet potato!

“To the dinner table!” she begged, as if conjuring meal wishes.

“Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away dishes!”

 

As dried bits on casserole dishes do cake

When met with some heat and a too-long bake,

So did the dishes adhere to their food

She cranked up Pandora and got in dish washin’ mood.

Cleaning Dishes

Why are these dishes blocking my wine glass?

And then in a twinkling, she heard from above

Advice from her mother-in-law, given with “love”.

As she drew in a breath, and turned around

There MIL came, ambling down.

 

She was dressed in a house coat, “’cause it’s freezing in here!”

But that didn’t stop the barrage, never fear.

A bundle of tips she spouted and cried

“Never have I ever burned a casserole,” she lied.

 

Her eyes how they glistened! Her smudged lipstick, how merry!

She looked like she hadn’t even gotten into the sherry.

Her droll little mouth spouted tip after tip

Causing the poor cook to nod, sniff, and sip

 

From her emptying wine glass, which she grasped like a hawk

Until, from the other room, she heard a pop!

“Oh honey! The kids are down?” she called with a grin

And passed off his mother just as he walked in.

 

Hubby looked surprise, surely off to find Netflix and beer

“Your mother was just saying what a great job I’m doing here!”

A wink of my eye and a silent, begging plea

Hubby knew this was not the time to mess with her, erm, me.

 

He spoke not a word, but went straight to work,

Removing his mom from the kitchen, man I love that jerk!

And laying a wet towel on the sweet potato mess

I started again, mashing ‘tatoes with my press.

 

I sprang to my dishwasher and set it to go

Put up the casseroles, jutting to and fro

Tomorrow’s a day to celebrate and be merry with friends

Who cares is one or two casseroles (and the oven) meet its end?

 

 

The moral is clear, as you can see

Advice, tips, and suggestions need not be given to me

Until I’ve had my first crisp wine flight.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good bite!

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