A good friend of mine sent this to me in an email.  I thought it was not only funny, but pretty much true.  Merry Christmas to all the overworked, under appreciated women who make the Christmas Cheer for their families!

T’was the night before Christmas

and all through the kitchen;

I was cooking and baking and

moanin and bitchin.

I’ve been here for hours,

I can’t stop to rest.

This room’s a disaster,

just look at this mess!

Tomorrow I’ve got

thirty people to feed.

They expect all the trimmings.

Who cares what I need!

My feet are both blistered,

I’ve got cramps in my legs.

The cat just knocked over

a bowl full of eggs.

There’s a knock at the door

and the telephone’s ringing;

frosting drips on the counter

as the microwave’s dinging.

Two pies in the oven,

dessert’s almost done;

my cookbook is soiled

with butter and crumbs.

I’ve had all I can stand,

I can’t take anymore;

Then in walks my husband,

spilling rum on the floor.

He weaves and he wobbles,

his balance unsteady;

then grins as he chuckles

“The eggnog is ready!”

He looks all around and

with total regret, says,

“What’s taking so long….

aren’t you through in here yet?”

As quick as a flash

I reach for a knife;

He loses an earlobe;

I wanted his life!

He flees from the room

in terror and pain and

screams, “MY GOD WOMAN,


Now what was I doing,

and what is that smell?

Oh darn, it’s the pies!

They’re burned all to hell!

I hate to admit

when I make a mistake,

but I put them on BROIL

instead of on BAKE.

What else can go wrong?

Is there still more ahead?

If this is good living,

I’d rather be dead.

Lord, don’t get me wrong,

I love holidays;

It just leaves me exhausted,

all shaky and dazed.

But I promise you one thing,

If I live ’til next year,

You won’t find me pulling

my hair out in here.

I’ll hire a maid, a cook,

and a waiter; and if

that doesn’t work,