Miss Glamore had this basic idea for simple decorating for Christmas. I, too, engaged my children, and although I did the spray paint on the branches, they did the rest. Not sure it measures up to Tiny Kingdom’s, but we’re happy. So, again, thanks Anne!
We’re using this on the dining room table. Ignore the boxes. We’ll move them before any major meal. And whether or not you really like this monument to Christmas, can I just say ‘free’?
I am. No matter how many exhausting attempts at some Norman Rockwell memory making moment, I can’t get it through my thick skull that it NEVER matches the vision. Not if I plan it, only at the times life just happens like that, and we have no recording devices to capture it. It’s one of the facts of life that makes me think the “quality time” over “quantity time” is a load of crap. You just can’t schedule warm fuzzy moments.
Last night’s little jaunt to select the family tree ended at Macaroni Grill with me hoping to mainline some cocktails. All we did was go to the tree lot, and pick out a tree. Just one lot, just one tree. Took all of 20 minutes. 20. of. the. longest. minutes. ever.
I’m trying to get out of the repeat myself pattern. The one where I say a child’s name 3 or 4 times before he/she decides to tune me in, or the one where I give an instruction, like, “get your shoes”, and say it 17 times before the action is commited. Enough. It wears me out. So, I’m trying to “deliver consequences”. I say it once, they listen and comply, and everyone’s happy. Or, someone will not be happy, and it won’t be me. Ha.
All day, they know Daddy’s coming home to get us and go for the tree. That alone creates a buzz of low level manic energy that damages hearing in all three of them. And when Daddy arrives, and we sit a moment to have a glass of wine before embarking (fortification), forget it. I thought we were going, you said we were going, we’re going as soon as Daddy gets home, Dad’s home, why aren’t we going, can we go now, when will you be done, are we leaving soon, can’t we go now? They circle our heads like expectant vultures. 2 of them ignore my announcement 10 minutes prior that they will need jackets. So I do not, of course, repeat myself. We announce we will now, indeed go, and then they nearly break each other’s legs racing to the truck. I’m in the middle, no I’m in the middle, you sat in the middle last time, no you sat in the middle last time, I want on the side, I want on that side, no this side is my side, that side is your side, who made you the boss of sides, that side is just like this side, so what does it matter what side you’re on, if it doesn’t matter, then why don’t you just move sides? Enough. Let’s just find some Christmas songs. I love that song, I hate that song, you told me you liked that song, I did not, yes you did, I never said that, can you turn it up, can you turn it down, can we switch stations, did you bring some CDs, can we just play the alphabet game, no silly, it’s dark outside, I am not silly, yes you are… And then I tell Mr. Tango where we scouted some good trees at good prices. I liked the other lot better, no this one was the best, no remember that big tree, that tree is too big for our house silly, mom, he’s still calling me silly, well, you are silly if you think that tree will fit in our house, aren’t we going the wrong way, is this the road we’re supposed to be on?.
We arrive, and the stampede exists the truck. Let me out, no me, you’re on my side, ow you’re elbowing me, I’m first, you were first last time, no I wasn’t, yes you were, mom he gave me a face, I can’t give you a face, you were born with a face silly, mo-o-o-m, he said I was silly again…Enough. Get out of the blasted truck and let’s go have a good family time getting a freakin’ family Christmas tree. I like this one, I do not like that one, this one is too thin, this one is too prickly, mom Blue Boy is out in the parking lot, mom he hit me with a tree branch, I want this little one for my room, you don’t get one for your room silly, mo-0-0-0-0-m, I do get one for my room if I want to get one for my room, if mom says I can get one for my room. No individual trees, thank you. Mom, it’s so cold, I’m cold too, can I have your jacket mom No he won’t stop trying to get my coat, will you pick me up, when are we leaving, it’s really cold. What was that brilliant thought on not repeating myself? Mr. Tango announces we have found the tree, I breathe deep relief and try to find all 27 children in the tree lot. It feels like 27 children. I find them, arguing over the best tree trimmings with which to light saber each other. I saw that one first, no you did not, I was waiting for it when the man was cutting, only Jedis get that kind of saber, and you’re not a Jedi, yes I am, not you’re not, yes I am, who made you the boss of Jedis, mo-o-o-m can’t I be a Jedi if I want to be a Jedi? No one will be a Jedi, you will all put every one of those branches down, or I will use one on your, oh and thank you to you too, and you have a very Merry Christmas also, Mr. Tree Man.
And on to the restaraunt, so another round of who sits where, and I declare the quiet game. And a minor skirmish over who gets which side of the booth. And some shelling over the crayon colors. And drinks.I wanted Sprite, I asked for orange juice, I thought I liked their milk. Mr. Tango and I were wearing down. This Family Fun was killing us. We skip the comes-with-dinner dessert, and get suprisingly little resistance. Maybe it was the tone in my voice when I announced that No, we were NOT going to stay for ice cream, not for 2 million dollars would we stay another minute. It was Bedtime. This evening was coming to a swift end. But what about the tree, aren’t we going to decorate the tree, I thought we were going to decorate the tree, I want to decorate the tree, you said we’d decorate the tree, can’t we decorate the tree?
In the end, the tree was hauled in, and hastily placed in its rickety little stand, while I threw children from teeth brushing to jammies to bed. Promises of decorating tomorrow were given, promises of getting ice cream tomorrow were made. I think I promised new cars at 16, and putting in a pool in the backyard. Anything, anything, to end the day, end the mental onslaught, end the Family Fun Time. All for a tree. An overpriced tree with which we can make a memory we’d rather forget. I hate Norman Rockwell. But the tree is nice.
1 year, 3.5 years, and today, at nearly 8. Catgirl’s definite individual sense of fashion. And today’s ensemble is on a 50 degree day. Might need a jacket to take Speedreader to Karate.
