It’s that time of year when I miss being a stay at home Mom. I love Christmas and all the excitement and planning that goes into it. As 2 working parents, weekends roll around there’s no time to sit back and take it all in. It’s go time. Fortunately Olivia still believe in Santa, so at least we aren’t responsible for satisfying her 2 page Christmas list. Shopping for her is more of a scavenger hunt than a shopping experience; a matching outfit for her and Maverick, a giant gummy worm, jeans with holes in it..but only small holes and not on the knee..it goes on and on..good luck Claus.
With that said, the annual hunt for the perfect tree began. We loaded up on caffeine and headed off to the tree farm with Christmas music blasting and the kids in tow. My husband is on the short side. Every year we satisfy his Napoleon complex and manage to get the largest tree on the lot. Jake was on a mission to pick out the tree this year and ran off ahead of us. He pulled out the perfect tree. As we approached, a woman with sunglasses bigger than her face and dressed as if she was heading out for a night in the city pushed past us, approached Jake holding the tree and said, “That’s it!”. She ran off to get help. Wait..does she really think she’s stealing our tree? The clicking of her high heels slowly faded in the distance. Ed and Jake started to carry the tree before she came back. Too late. She arrives with 2 workers. Ed shot me a snarky look and put on his best sales voice; graciously thanked them for coming to help us. Slightly confused they picked up the tree and we followed closely behind. I heard the clicking of the heels on our tail as she whined to another employee and yelled, “Stop them! They hijacked my tree!”. Honey, I’m on a tight schedule. No room for a cat fight today. It was tied to our roof and off we went, with the stomping Princess visibly having a tantrum in our rear view mirror.
Singing Christmas music and laughing about the insane experience we just had, I noticed Olivia was awful quiet in the back seat.
Me: “What’s wrong, Liv”
Olivia: ”I feel bad for Christmas trees. They’re slaves of the season. Someone cuts off the legs so they can’t move, wrap them in nets and separate them from their family. Then people go and buy them. They stick them in their house, wrap them up in lights so they can’t move and stand around and watch them until they die.
What?? Seriously I can never look at a Christmas tree the same again! I’m going to have to add therapy to that long list she made. I’m going to have to make a donation to a Christmas tree refuge and I am most definitely going to have to buy a tree next year with the roots so we can plant it with an adopted family after we torture it and tie it up in lights. I may need to find a therapist for the tree too so it adapts well with its new family. In the meantime I have this “dying tree” in my living room, slowly withering away in front of our eyes. I feel like I should be playing Amazing Grace instead of Jingle Bells.
We now have about 30 days until the tree’s funeral service. 30 days to keep the hostage in an upright position with an 80 lb puppy and a cat with an Olympic metal in tree climbing. The kids have upped the ante by giving Walter catnip. Maverick is trying his absolute hardest not to instinctively chase the cracked out cat as he leaps for the dangling ornaments. I’m patiently waiting for the annual “I told you to tie the tree to the wall” argument. Christmas season Geniton style has begun.
The Story Of Maverick 