Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree

*This is the "after" to this story. I really, really want to control everyone and everything in my life. But, we can't always get what we want, now can we? Read on for more on "the tree" at my house.

I need Christmas Tree Therapy. Really. I do. I’m a Christmas Tree snob. It’s not really my fault, though. I’m sure my soon-to-be tree therapist would agree. I was raised as a tree snob. While the rest of you were decking the halls, singing gaily to carols of yore. My family was meticulously placing lights, bows, and expensive hand made ornaments on our 18 foot tall tree. We had the same tree each year, and, I. LOVED. IT.

You see, many many moons ago, my parents bought a “Festival of Trees” tree. These are expensive trees sold for charity. They come totally decorated, right to your house. The ornaments of my parents were papier-mâché. They were of carolers, quaint animals and the like. Figures and large round bulbs alike, they were lovely. I think they are still very much in style; just a little worn after thirty years or so. My mother ironed and tied tons of red satin ribbon into perfect bows. We ONLY had white lights. Our tree was giant. Our ceilings were very tall, and the tree was as well. It truly was, each year, the perfect tree.

Every year people would comment on how beautiful our tree was. I can still feel the pride of those green gifts from heaven. I loved going to get them. The tree stand people were always amazed that we wanted the tallest one. To this day, my trees always feel dinky. I told Peter that someday I want another giant one. (this of course will have to be when we win the lottery, haha) I can’t help but to want my tree now, to feel like the one I grew up with.

One problem though. Not everyone likes the perfectly decorated tree. Peter grew up with, *gulp* colored lights. (hear the screams of pain here) And their tree had everything, INCLUDING, the kitchen sink on it. He’s been great though. And, in fact, I think he likes our tree. My kids on the other hand; problem number two.

The newspaper headlines around our house are more like, “Nazi mom has “tree trimming” party.” I honestly have to take deep breathes, try to smile, and remind myself they are children. I also remind them that “I may have to move things around a bit. Just so the baby doesn’t get them.”

Wink, wink. It’s bad. Really bad.

Oh well. I am giving in here and there. I have welcomed “memorable” ornaments, the year we were married, baby’s firsts, family trips and what not. Still, though, no hand made school ornaments. I don’t utter this aloud though. Just gently remove when no one is looking and hang on the door, or on the magnet board. No one will notice right?

I think when all is said and done, my kids are the ones that might need therapy.

Something like this: (said in your best crying to a therapist voice) “And my mom, *sob, sob* wouldn’t let us put our ornaments on the tree. *sob, sob* She had to have it her way, she liked it to look perfect. And now look at me. I can’t even see a Christmas Tree without crying. All because of my crazy mother.” *sob, sob*


Oh well. Sorry. At least it looked good, right?

p.s. And let's not kid ourselves here. With four kids, I'm lucky it's still standing. Seriously. Day one, "Lookin' great, Big Green. Hang in there." By now, the lights have been pulled off by our "pet" - also known as "the baby," too many times to count. And Ruby has had to redecorate 154,900 times. So really, I'd like to have it my way - but we'll do the best we can. See photo above.