Oh Christmas Tree

I am a sucker for Christmas. Not just the day, but the entire holiday season.

I remember as a kid begging my dad to let us put up the Christmas tree the moment Thanksgiving was over. He usually complied. My dad, being the smart man he is, would set up the artificial tree and lights before I was allowed to enter the room. Then my mom and I would dig through the box of Christmas ornaments, usually while listening to something like Barry Manilow’s Christmas tunes or watching Rudolph.

As a mommy, I naturally want my kiddos to develop memories like this. However, so far it’s not going so great.

I remember in 2007, when Mike had just left for Iraq and the kids were a mere 2 (almost 3) and four years old, we set up the tree early. Over the next few weeks, the kids managed to run and knock that tree over at least a dozen times. Finally, fed up by their carelessness, I fussed: “If you knock that tree over one more time, I’m just taking it down.”

Little Ethan responded incorrectly. “Yeah, let’s just take it down.”

Abby gave the wrong answer as well. “Yeah, it’s too pokey anyway. I don’t like it.”

Geez. Now what? They had called my bluff and I was NOT going to take my tree down. We ended up going to Wal-Mart to find a cheap, “less pokey” tree.

This morning, three years later, the kids asked if we could put up the tree. Sure we could put up the tree! Are you kidding me?

So I went out to the storage building behind the house and dragged the tree box around front, so as to not disturb Puggles the dog. When I opened the box…ugh. Mouse poop. The box was full of mouse poop.

“Kids, I don’t think we can use this tree.”

Ethan, my son with autism, already had it in his head that we were going to put up our tree this morning. There was no changing his mind.

So I said, “why don’t we go to Wal-Mart and get a new tree that isn’t covered in mouse droppings?”

“I’m afraid that would cost too much,” Ethan said. “We can just use that one.”

Seeing that he was not going to back down, I took the tree parts outside, doused them with an entire can of Lysol and prayed we would not get some rare form of lyme disease that only comes from the mixture of mouse poop and plastic tree bristles.

Next, I realized that the slits that go along the bottom piece of the tree – i.e., the part that actually makes the tree stand up – were gone. “Ethan,” I tried again. “I think we need to just go get a new tree.”

Nope. In the words of Tim Gunn of Project Runway, it was a “just make it work” moment. So I tried. I took a box, filled it with heavy stuff, and stuck the tree trunk down inside the box. It took well over half an hour, but if the tree was properly perched between two kitchen chairs, it did not fall over.

The “prelit” part of the tree did not work except on the bottom third, so I pulled out the extra lights and planned to wrap. Of course, the tree shifted and leaned every time I wrapped the tree. In the meantime, the kids were busy putting on ornaments – which all managed to accumulate over about one square foot of the tree – and they were getting angry with one another. “Hey, I wanted that one!” “You’re in my way!”

I was not happy and Ethan could tell it. “Mommy, it’s ok if we only have lights on the bottom of the tree.” “Mommy, it’s ok if we don’t use that ornament.”

Finally, the kids went off to watch Nick Jr. while I worked on trying to fix the @#$!% tree. Then it happened.

BAM! The whole thing fell over. The box ripped. The heavy stuff poured out.

My sweet little boy came over, put his arm on me, and in his comforting tone… ”Mommy, it’s still ok if it leans a little.”

Leans a little. The thing was lying horizontal on the floor.

That was the Christmas memory I'd been waiting for, and wow how I laughed after that.


(And yes, we will be buying a new tree come Friday.)