Tree time

This weekend provided my favorite holiday tradition--getting our Christmas tree.

My friend Lori was in town, and excited to help. I was amazed at how much faster the process went with another adult instead of a not-so-helpful kid. Lori never once ran wild through the lot, nor did she whine about lugging the tree out to the car. She didn't push any trees onto me and laugh, or poke me with any stray branches off the ground. And when I left her in the trunk-cutting line so I could pay for the tree, she simply said "OK," and did it.

I think Mark may be out of a job next year.

But this year, he did all right. He was thrilled to have Lori around because he said she's fun, but he was just glad he didn't have to carry the tree.

Most of the trees were tightly bound with string. Lori held an untied tree up for inspection and asked, "How about this one?" It looked pretty good, but I'm not one for picking the first tree I see. I had to look around a bit.

Lori and I unwrapped a second tree, spinning it carefully like a top while the string unwound. Meanwhile, Mark flung trees to the ground all around me, intent on finding the tree at the bottom of the pile. He was not happy when I ordered him to stop, and couldn't fathom why I was unhappy dodging trees. ("But they're CHRISTMAS trees," he said, as though that made it okay.)

After unwrapping the tree and looking over a couple others, I decided the first one was, indeed, the best. Mark disagreed, but only because he wanted to keep chucking trees.



We dragged the tree to have the trunk trimmed off. The guy made a quick cut, hoisted the tree up, and tossed it through a net. I'm not sure what the net is for; the tree remained the same bushy size, and it shed needles just as much as before.

And then came my favorite part of it all--getting the tree home. I've never let the size of my car dictate the size of my tree, which is unfortunate, since I have a small car. Last year, we didn't untie the tree--we simply tossed it in the backseat and let it hang out the window.

This year, it was a bit puffier untied. I also forgot that we had three people in the car, not two like last year. So instead of sitting up front like last year, Mark became close friends with the tree on the way home.



Our tree is now lit up and decorated, and everyone is enjoying it. Including the cats--Frankie loves his new water dish (the tree stand) although the pine needles obviously did not agree with him, since he hacked them up all over our bathroom floor.

Ahhh, I love the holidays...

Oh Tannenbaum

It was with surprise and a bit of concern that I finally realized Christmas is upon us. I'd like to say that the tree and lights are up, the cards mailed and the house filled with holiday cheer.

In rea lity, I have a messy house, two unpacked suitcases full of dirty clothes from our last two weekends out of town, and the best intentions to remedy all of the above in the next week.

I may not get to putting the Christmas lights up on the house; it's rainy and cold out there. But I drew the line at not having a Christmas tree; what kind of Mom would I be if I skipped that?

And so we trudged into last night with smiles and rain on our faces. My friend Edra was kind enough to accompany us, as she has an S U V big enough to hold a freshly-cut tree. Because we'll only be home another week, I explained that we were getting a small tree -- I didn't want to deal with all the hauling, setting up and cleaning up after for an 8-foot-tree.

Mark announced he wanted a Charlie Brown tree. I could tell by the way he said it he didn't know what that meant. His explanation confirmed my suspicions.

"It's a little tree," he said.

"A little tree that's lopsided with no needles on it," I corrected him. "It's a ski nny, sad little tree."

He frowned and immediately recanted. "I don't want a needle-less tree," he said.

Mark bounded into the stalls full of trees laying on their sides. After climbing to the back of the bunch, he reached down to grab one at the bottom wedged under all the other trees. After much grunting and struggling, he pulled it out and yelled, "I want this one!"

I simply reached down and pulled up the tree closest to me. "I like this one," I said.

Edra followed my lead as Mark set about unwrapping the string around his tree. She picked up a tree and fluffed out the needles. "This one's cute, too," she said. We held up the three contenders, and let Mark choose. He then told me to grab the trunk. As I bent to do exactly that, he walked away with the tree, leaving me bent over and empty-handed. He glanced over his shoulder and laughed at me.

Back home, I lit a fire, turned on some Christmas carols, and filled a glass with wine from Napa. The rain outside was dancing on the roof. I dug out the lights, ornaments, and tree holder. I propped them up on a table to make the tree taller. The cats raced to the tree and claimed their new favorite spot




Mark loved our little tree. As soon as it was up, my spiritually-confused son clapped his hands and happily started singing, "Tonight is the night we light the menorah!" (Kelley's influence reaches far beyond the state line...) Which I was about to deem not-quite-appropriate until I realized it was, indeed, the first night of Hanukkah.

Mark ransacked the box of ornaments, choosing all his favorites. There were some pre-Mark ornaments ("Sloppy Joe's Bar, Mom? Really? A Christmas ornament from a BAR?") and some post-Mark ones that I love (a hand-colored bear with the following inscription on the back: "7 age, 2007, to Mom from Mark Dinsdale.")

We finished pretty quickly because our tree was so small. I loved it, though -- all our ornaments are from cities we've visited, so each one triggers a little trip down vacation memory lane. It was fun because I relived half the vacations with Edra ("Look, Edra, Pinocchio from Italy!") and half with Mark ("Look Mark, Disney World!"). We did have one small tragedy, when one of my favorite ornaments fell off the tree and immediately shattered into a million tiny pieces.

"Dollywood just took a dive!" I cried. I swept up the pieces and mourned; who knows when I'll ever get back to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee? (Honestly, I never thought I'd go there in the first place.)




At the end of the night, our tree looked lovely. I added decorative snowmen and Santas all over the house, and suddenly, Christmas had arrived. The messy piles of mail and luggage had been replaced by the holiday spirit.

Or rather, holiday spirits, as Mark admired the tree, and hummed Hanukkah songs.

Chistmas kicked my butt today

(It kicked Mark's booty, too...)

We started the morning with Mark's Cub Scout den, selling fresh mistletoe in front of Trader Joe's. I worried that Mark would whine or complain (because this involved actual work), but he did great.

At first, he was only interested in the money box. He wanted to arrange and rearrange the bills. A few people asked what we were selling, and Mark said, "You can sell it, Mom." I reminded him that no one wants to buy mistletoe from a grown woman--they want to buy it from cute little Cub Scouts.

I gave the kids some advice--smile big and hit up all the moms and grandmas. They can't resist a clean-cut boy in a uniform. Be polite, say thank you. And make eye contact with every person who walks in or out the exit.

It worked! We sold about 100 bag in just under two hours. The boys got very creative, shouting out, "Mistletoe for sale! Only one dollar, and NO tax!" I thought that was a very smart sell, considering the economy.

We only lost one sale the whole morning, when a woman explained what mistletoe is for. "You hang it up and kiss whoever walks under it," she teased, comically puckering up at Mark. He ran away quickly, bag still in hand.

After lunch, we put up the house Christmas lights. I climbed up the little step ladder hanging them while Mark followed behind, handing them up to me. He was very helpful, even warning me not to fall (like last year, when I almost knocked myself out) or cut myself on the broken orange light.

Then it was time for the big Christmas purchase--the TREE! We went to the same lot as last year, because they delivered our tree for a couple extra bucks. Except it was a different group selling trees this year! Dang it. I couldn't figure out how to get a tree home in my little compact car. I drove over to Lowe's to buy myself some time, and perhaps think of a solution.

The solution was...to toss safety out the window! Literally. When you buy a tree, they wrap it up in a mesh bag until it's a skinny little fir tree roll. I figured if I bought a medium-sized tree, I could toss the tree in the back seat, let it hang out the window a bit, and we'd be home in no time, tree (and car) intact.

I just forgot one little thing--the backseat is where Mark sits. And he was not very amenable to riding back there with a Christmas tree on top of him (spoilsport!).

Which left him...the front seat. When we grew up, not only were kids allowed to ride in the front seat, they fought to ride in the front seat. Every car ride of my childhood began with one kid screaming "SHOTGUN!" three other kids groaning, "Awww! No fair!" and one parent yelling, "Just get in the damn car!"

Back then we didn't have fancy front seat airbags--hell, we didn't even have seatbelts. (Or even, for me and my little brother, seats!) But nowadays, they put graphic images of little kids being squished to death by said airbags on the sun visor. Everywhere you turn in the car, it's telling you don't let kids under 12 in the front seat.

Well, those instructions are completely not helpful when it comes to Christmas trees and compact cars. I estimated the ride home was short--only five minutes-- which I've driven a thousand times without an accident.

So front seat airbags be damned, we threw the tree in back, sticking out the window, and Mark in the front seat. He was thrilled. He told me very seriously he wanted to watch me push every button (apparently, he thinks that's how you drive a car), then he set about pushing every button himself.

"What's this button do?" he asked, changing the radio station seven times in a row. "And is A/C on? What's A/C? What's Auto? Can I lock my door?"

It felt kinda funny to have him riding next to me--for once, I didn't feel like his chauffeur. I asked him to stop touching everything--between that and the tree flapping out the window, it was just too distracting. But I let him roll down the window, which he promptly stuck his head out of, and did his best dog impression with the wind whipping through his hair.

Soon enough we were home, and the tree was ceremoniously displayed and decorated. We drank hot chocolate and listened to Christmas music, which he mocked by asking, "Is this your boooooyfriend singing?"

"Yes, this is Harry Connick Jr.," I told him. "Don't talk about your daddy like that!"

In the end, I was really tired, but the house looks great. I am glad to be done with the big Christmas tasks (OK, well, maybe not shopping), even if I have to take it all down again in three or so weeks. But in the meantime, I enjoyed the outside lights and the fresh pine smell inside. And, most of all, I enjoyed the helpful little elf by my side all day.