Wine, Tears and Christmas Trees

We all know by now that I am a high strung type A personality.

Imagine Christmas in my ‘everything perfectly matching’ mind.

Got a mental image?

Good…lets begin.

Perhaps this confession could be added onto the ‘Parenting Fails and Therapy Pot Post’, but I think in the spirit of Christmas, it can stand-alone. Don’t worry; I have a special therapy pot strictly reserved for any holiday-inflicted trauma.

It’s a Santa Clause. Nice festive touch if I do say so myself.

HO HO HO!

My Christmas tree has a theme. It has morphed over the years and as a result Pier One loves me. Your welcome Pier One employees for your Christmas bonuses, it’s always my pleasure.

Sometimes the tree has been only red, other year’s red and gold, then silver and red.

The last few years it has been silver with an excessive amount of white lights.

Only silver.

So fricken pretty. I can’t stop staring at its perfection.

I spend a lot of time and energy executing such perfection. I start with the lights and then stand back to squint to see where the gaps are.  Don’t laugh!  Try it, squinting works!

You are staring at your tree squinting right now aren’t you? Told ya so. Go fix the light gaps.

Next is the flawlessly arranged garland made of glass crystals as to reflect the illumination from the perfectly placed lights.

More squinting. Perfect.

Then I add the largest ornaments first, all matching in a symmetrical pattern down the center and sides of the tree. Sometimes I use a tape measure.

Followed by the smaller ornaments, each one matching it’s counterpart on the opposite side.

Kiss my ass Martha.

It is glee for me. Pure glee. Like Christmas…oh wait.

Let’s be clear. Kids homemade ornaments just don’t match. I don’t care how sweet the fruit loop garland is or how long it took you to glue all the stale macaroni together to make a crappy pasta angel.

It’s not silver, ergo it doesn’t match.

By the way girls, the hot mess of pink glitter on the pre-cut foam snowman was a piss poor effort.  If you want to at least try and achieve tree status please add silver and a little creative energy.

When the girls were old enough to ‘help’ (please decipher as ‘hinder”) decorate the tree it was a shit show that ended in tears.

For them and me, but mostly for me.

They were ruining my perfect tree with their homemade pieces of shit works of art and had the audacity to just hang them randomly all over the tree. They were all just clumped together on the branches they could reach. 

Monsters.

I could do a better job three sheets to the wind, with my eyes closed and tossing ornaments for sport across the room.

COME ON!! REALLY?? Do you have any tree pride???

Well I do, take your arts and crafts and short stubby arms elsewhere.

Ok, after the first two years of the tree being a family affair and me having to drink just to make it through, then undo their work when they went to bed and tell them the next morning the dog ate their ornaments right off the tree; I came up with the brilliant idea to get them their OWN tree! 

Smart right? I know.

It took everything in me, but they were each allowed to choose any colour of tasteless tinsel (ok, I hope I have not offended anyone, but really? If you still have tinsel please email me directly and I can provide on the spot Christmas Decorating Counseling).

In addition, the kid’s tree has…gasp…multi-coloured lights that (breath Jessica) flash in an odd sequence.  I know, hideous right?

The piece de résistance you ask? Why it’s the tacky angel dressed in faux white silk holding a flashing “candle” proclaiming the birth of Jesus from atop the gaudy tree.

Each year after my tree of perfection is complete, we now have a family time where I do not actually take over (shocker I know) and we sit back and watch them have at it. They love it and are so proud as they carefully hang each one of their macaroni messes in satisfaction.

More often than not it ends in a fight between the three of them telling each other what to do. I have no idea where they get their bossiness from.

It’s a perfect solution; they get their tree to 'decorate' (I use that word very loosely) and it’s in the upstairs family room so no one ever sees it. J

Each one of their crafts is kept in a special box in the basement, but more importantly they are safe in my heart attached to my memories.

Just not on my tree.

Everyone is out right now. Babysitting and sports leaves me a very rare quiet night at home by myself. A glass of wine (or a ‘bottle’ish whatever, let’s not stress on the details this time of year is hectic enough) my tree and me.

I may weep I’m so happy.

xoxo

J

Last years tree and two beautiful young ladies!
I will post a pic of this years perfection asap:)