Decorating my house for Christmas is one of my favorite things to do. It’s kind of weird, because I generally hate doing anything that invloves a significant amount of time of effort. For Easter, I’ll hang up a bunny. There. The house is decorated for Easter.
*Christmas shopping at Target, always a pleasure*
But, Christmas is different. We’ve inherited a lot of treasures from our parents and grandparents, and we like to display them. (Before I continue, I’d like to let you know that the *we* I am refering to is actually *me*. Ryan does the lights, I do the inside.) It’s fun for the kids to see all the memories from past holidays.
During Fiona’s first Christmas we drove hours to chop down our own tree. EVERYTHING HAD TO BE PERFECT. My first baby, only 7 months old, deserved the best Christmas of all time. We chopped that damn tree, put it up in our living room, and took about 1,000,000 pictures of her sitting by it. I remember thinking, ” Ah, this child will cherish these memories forever.”
…because a 7 month old can remember shit. NOPE. NO THEY CAN”T.
It was mostly for me. First time mom. Forgive me.
*Fiona and Maeve when I asked them to pose for a Christmas photo. #fail*
Then I popped out my middle kid and we gave up on chopping a tree. We went down to good ‘ol Homedepot and picked a tree from the lot. We let her big sister help decorate, since Maeve was only 5 months old. It was fun. Cute. Good times for all. Except for the fact that I had recently adopted an extremley needy, ancient beagle named Wrigley, who had a tendency to pee all over the damn tree all of the damn time.
*The Culprit*
Fast forward to this Christmas season. We once again went deep into the forsest with the sharpest axe we could find. We chopped down a 9 foot tall tree and carried it home on our backs.
That’s bullshit.
We went to Home Depot, picked out the first tree we saw. It was cold out and way past dinner time, everyone was on edge, except for me. I was having the time of my life wearing my light up, ugly Christmas sweater, with the sheer purpose of embarrassing my family. I like to think I was spreading love and light through the aisles at the store.
Later, we put the tree up, put the lights up, put the decorations up and decided to call it a day. I started cooking dinner, and put Lucie in her little walker. I had only turned my back for about 30 seconds, but she basically hightailed it over to the big, green, glowing thing. She reached into the branches and promptly TORE A ROW OF LIGHTS OFF. Not the typical, ” Oh, here’s a baby that just wants to play with that pretty ornament”. This was, “I’m going to take this bad boy down, one way or another, so brace yourself.”
Honestly, I feel like she and Maeve have secret meetings together regarding how they can join forces and lock me up in a psych ward ( Ok, so that actually happened, but it had nothing to do with them. Ha!) I have listened to them try to understand each others unique sister language. I have listened to them giggle and crack each other up. I have watched them stare at each other and hold hands. Fiona and I think there’s some kind of consipracy going on here.
So, I put the lights back. Again and again and again. I’m pretty grateful she’s not trying to eat the shiny, little bulbs, but only time will tell. We got our tree early this year, because we are traveling to Illinois for Christmas this year, but I also feel like the tree might not even make it to us having to leave. Lucie is going to make sure of that. Next year, I’m getting a little potted on that can sit on my kitchen table.
That’s a complete lie, but I’m going to keep telling myself that all the way into next years holiday season.
My children constantly make me laugh at the weird, random crap they do everyday with each other, and honestly, it fills my heart with so much joy I can’t even express it in words.
I should really count my blessings, because at least Maeve isn’t trying to climb up the damn thing.
Happy Holidays!
The Queen Mother 
Mine keeps ripping the ornaments off the tree. Like where did the hook go ripping them off. And NOTHING will stop him from this activity. If he doesn’t choke on a hook, it’ll be a Christmas miracle.
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