Memories on the Tree

Putting up the tree in my house growing up was not an overly joyous occasion. It should have been, but as I've found since childhood, we humans try to make an occasion ultra meaningful and in our quest for perfection, just end up creating conflict and stress. Don't feel sorry for me, I would guess that many have similar stories to tell.

We would try to put the tree up around the time of my oldest sister's birthday, December 10th. We couldn't have a real tree because my middle sister was allergic to them. Inevitably, I began the season already feeling a bit deprived.

SIDENOTE - When I got married we were determined to get a real tree. And we did, for a few years. Until I got tired of the dropped needles and the dog drinking out of the tree water (or worse). When we started our family, we reverted back to the artificial tree, so as to avoid the baby eating the needles or worse, getting them stuck in his head.

A SECOND SIDENOTE - To my parents - say no to over sensitivity about this post, I know that my children will have occurrences like this to pass down to their kids. I often wonder how I've scarred their childhoods each day that I attempt to parent them appropriately.

There were other reasons my growing up Christmases weren't overflowing with joy, but here are some specific events that occurred each year while putting up the tree.

The tree was always crooked.
The lights never worked correctly.
Swearing happened, once even over a coke bottle that fell into a newly made pie. Oops.
The lights, once working, were never evenly distributed.
We could never remember whose turn it was to put Grandma's angel on the top of the tree and fighting ensued.
We could never remember who got to set up the manger scene and fighting ensued again.

And so, I have been determined to make our family's tree putting up experience much less stressful. Only, reality takes over.

The tree is always crooked.
If the lights don't work I throw them away without even checking to see if I could fix them.
Swearing occasionally happens, but I don't make pie, so I am safe there.
We argue a little bit about colored blinking lights vs. white solid lights. I usually win and our white lights shine on.
The kids insist they remember whose turn it is to put the star on the top of the tree. And fighting ensues.
And Baby Jesus disappears from one of three manger scenes because there is arguing over whose turn it is to place him in the manger.

I have always said that someday, I will have my very own Christmas tree. I want one that has a theme, like "Up North," or "Gold Things," or something equally creative. I look at our tree with a bit of a sigh and a bit of frustration. Nothing matches. Much to my chagrin, some years colored lights blink. And each year that we go home, our respective parents load us up with more ornaments from our childhoods.

The first years we put up Christmas decorations in our house, it looked like the Christmas Fairy had thrown up in every room. Literally. I mean, there were snowmen of all kinds, Christmas dishes, Christmas rugs, tinsel, fake green garland, lighted houses, placemats, table runners, signs, I could go on and on.  Gradually, we've pared things down so that it's not quite as overwhelming and there is still room for us to move.  I still have lighted houses and garland and table runners and snowmen. However, some of it remains in storage until I can load my kids down with it when they are adults. Now, the only thing that is overly decorated, is the tree.

This year, we just, literally, just put up our tree last weekend. December 14th. So, pretty much par for what we would do growing up. Only this year it was less about tradition and more about not making time until then. I am thinking that maybe we need to start a new tradition of after Thanksgiving like others do. At least if we set that as our target, we may get the tree up earlier in December.

Putting up our tree is always an experience. And that's the nice word for it.  Here's how it went down this year....After 6th grade basketball practice, I went into the cave and started pushing tubs out for the boys to bring upstairs.

Ben was helpful, Gabe was flustered because I hadn't given exact instructions, and Matt was on his phone (darn fantasy football). I told Gabe to bring up the green tub with the red cover. Which one? The one right in front of you. Where do I put it? In the office. Where in the office? Just, in the office. What do I do after that? Come back down and get another tub.  Matt came down and chastised Ben for putting a (minor) dent in the wall with a tub.  I sighed, pushed out a few more tubs, and followed the boys upstairs. Matt noted to me all five dents Ben has put in the walls over the last four years. Ben shrugged, and we carried on.

We started sorting the color coded branches.  Gabe put in a few and then had to go and get gloves to finish the job. Mr. Sensitive we call him.  Ben started putting them in, too. Lyndee and Ben argued about who was putting them in correctly.  Matt had to leave the room in order to not get frustrated.  Matt returned. I laughed. Wrong thing to do. I shrugged. Matt left again.

The branches finished, I attacked the lights. Since Matt was outside, I chose white lights, non-blinking.  The first strand I tried didn't work. I threw them away.  Then the other strands went on. Matt returned and to help
me. No blinking lights? Nope. No colored ones? Nope, you snooze, you lose.  I got half way through and realized that my lights ended in the back with no way to plug them in. Sigh. Matt left me to problem solve.  I went to the laundry room, found a white (oh well) extension cord with the appropriate ends and plugs, and plugged them in. Yay! Lights!

Matt said, "You missed a few spots." I smiled, determined not to make a frustrated comment. I succeeded, gritted my teeth, and smiled again. "Mommy, what's wrong? You don't look so good." LQTM. (Laugh Quietly to Myself).

And then it was on to the ornaments. I like to be organized and go about things in a sequential manner. To me, that means putting up the ornaments from the top tray in the box first and then working on the lower tray. Kids don't necessarily think like that and pretty soon, there were ornaments everywhere. All. Over. Everywhere.  I finally lost it. "CAN YOU GUYS JUST HOLD ON A SECOND? CAN WE DO THIS IN AN ORGANIZED WAY?!"

Silence. Matt said, "What do you want me to do?" Deep breathing ensued and I smiled, albeit not a natural smile. Back to the ornaments. And gradually, I relaxed. It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be. My goal this year is to embrace the messy in my life and this was the first step.

I started putting on ornaments, randomly, on random places, from random places. And I realized, this isn't MY tree. It's our tree. It tells a story. Many stories really. It tells the story of me as a little girl, and Matt as a little boy.  It tells the story of us as teachers and coaches. It tells the story of our kids - their first Christmases, the ornaments they've made in school, the ornament gifts from their cousins.  I found the ornament my childhood best friend, Sarah, had engraved for me and hung it on the tree, a bit tearful. You see, she lost her husband this year and by putting this ornament on our tree, I remembered US and I prayed for HER and her boys.

I realized, that we were decorating our tree, not with ornaments, but with memories. And each time I placed something on the tree, I was remembering the person who gave it to me or the event it symbolized. Here's a rundown of some of my favorites from this year:

• the brass piece of mail engraved from Sarah
• the Christmas Nail buried deep inside the tree
• the lace heart from Matty for our 8th anniversary with the gift tag still attached
• the Christmas ball with hand prints from 3rd grade for each of the kids (Thank You, 3rd grade teachers!)
• Baby's First Christmas for each of the kids
• Gabe's ornament from daycare with his buddy, Derek
• the angels each year from my dad
• the homemade basketball ornament from my athlete turned colleague
• the hummingbirds from China from my sister
• the Thomas the Train for G from my other sister
• the White House Ornaments from the MD Northrops
• the Eskimos from Gma and Gpa N.
• the silver ball from Gma and Gpa Devitt, that held a gift of money one year for their poor, newly married grandchildren
• the rocking horse that my dad cut out and I painted in 1981
• the Minnesota Twins ornament of Matt's from 1987
• the "Best Big Brother" ornament from Matt's little sister, Courtney

Truly, the list could go on and on.  I'll stop now. But, I think this gives the reader a good picture of our tree.  

Perspective is everything, in Christmas, and life.  I'm working on things that cause me frustration, like a messy and unorganized tree, and trying to change my perspective. Here is what I've come up with so far. Christmas is filled with expectation, both personal and public.  Trying to live up to that expectation is what causes the frustration.  Perfection is not possible, but an altered perception is very doable.  This year, I'll do my Christmas as imperfectly as possible, preserving and appreciating the memories on my tree along the way.