To put myself in a holly, jolly holiday spirit, I attended a live Christmas concert. The singing was fabulous, and the choir sang all my favorites from yesteryear and today.
Many years ago, the only way to hear holiday songs was to go to church or a live concert. Then came home record players, and we could hear Johnny Mathis or Perry Como singing any time we wanted. A few years later, eight-tracks, cassette tapes and CD's allowed us to have our own playlists in our vehicles.
Now we can type "Christmas music" into our computer's search engine, save them as MP3's and listen to Christmas music in July if we want.
No matter the month, the holiday classics remain my favorites, especially one of the most beautiful voices ever recorded, Nat King Cole, singing "The Christmas Song." Karen Carpenter's "Merry Christmas, Darling" makes me tear up every time I hear it, just as Josh Groban's soothing voice gives me chills on "O Holy Night."
Like it or not, rock, country music and rap stars are notorious for changing the melody on Christmas songs. Kurtis Blow's classic Christmas rap is quite catchy, Eartha Kitt purrs on "Santa, Baby" and Christmas just isn't complete without hearing Elvis whoo-hooing "Blue Christmas."
Hearing all these holiday songs, and the way artists put their own spin on these timeless tunes, motivated me to massage some of the words to "The Twelve Days of Christmas." So to all you tired and frazzled moms out there, here's a parody for us:
On the first day of Christmas, my mommy duties called to me: A to-do list as long as my arm.
On the second day of Christmas, my granddaughter asked of me: Two impossible-to-find Little Tykes toys.
On the third day of Christmas, the crowded mall frustrated me: Three open cashiers and no change in the register.
On the fourth day of Christmas, the Post Office offered me: Long lines for the four packages I had to mail.
On the fifth day of Christmas, the newspaper promised me: Five early-bird, 80 percent-off coupons.
On the sixth day of Christmas, my tired feet whined to me: Only six parking spaces left in the entire mall parking lot.
On the seventh day of Christmas, my trash can called to me: Seven, oops no eight, ornaments broken while decorating the tree.
On the eighth day of Christmas, I slapped myself in the head: Eight inches of Scotch tape left on the dispenser at 11 p.m.
On the ninth day of Christmas, my mail carrier glared at me: Nine catalogs stuffed in my mailbox.
On the 10th day of Christmas, my answering machine blared at me: Ten telephone messages from holiday telemarketers.
On the 11th day of Christmas, my pantry reminded me: Eleven half-filled bottles of sprinkles on the top shelf.
On the 12th Day of Christmas, my exhausted inner voice sighed to me: Twelve minutes to actually sit and enjoy the decorated tree, 11 people in front of me in the grocery store, 10 burnt-out Christmas lights, nine missing gift receipts, eight more boxes to wrap, seven children fighting, six pounds of fudge, five stockings to stuff, four light plugs in one extension cord, three a.m. and a bike to assemble, two exhausted parents and a mommy looking forward to December 26.
Come on, Nat, throw some chestnuts on that fire for me. Christmas is here, the Savior is born and, despite all the hustle and bustle of the season, my blessings overflow.
Merry Christmas.
This article was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.
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