I have a confession.
I HATE CHRISTMAS TREES.
I hate picking one out, I hate decorating them, I hate watering them, I hate vacuuming around them, I hate having to take the decorations off.
I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT CHRISTMAS TREES.
I try to pretend I don’t hate them, because, you know, the kids love them and look forward to getting one and making it all “pretty”.
I do my best to make it enjoyable. I make hot cocoa, and put on christmas music. I smile while they hang the ornaments all random like with no regard for SPACING or PLACEMENT. I say things like “very pretty!” “wow, you really have an eye for decorating!” “I really am LOVING THIS, YOU GUYS!”
But deep down inside? I WANT TO PUNCH PEOPLE.
Ah, Letting the kids help decorate the tree is GREAT FUN!.
One year? I rebelled and refused to go shopping for the tree. I told Tony I trusted him and the boys to pick out a great tree!
Yeah, that didn’t work out to well because they came home with a tree that was MISSING THE ENTIRE MIDDLE SECTION.
I was pissed and man, I said a whole ‘lotta “F” words, but Tony wasn’t even having it, he was like “Oh HELL NO”. (because, you know, I made the choice to not help him pick it out, but, come on, how do you pick a tree with NO MIDDLE SECTION?)
Anyway, I swore I’d never do that again and that, as much as I hate shopping for trees, I’d suck it up and go because, HO HO HO MERRY CHRISTMAS! I love doing holiday things with my kids! I AM A GREAT MOTHER!
But really? I’m not a “great mother” when it comes to the holidays. I don’t have the patience for it. Like, last night. I had the bright idea to go to Michaels to buy some supplies to do some “holiday crafts.” I decided on glass ornaments to paint and clay ornaments to bake.
Um. Within the first 5 minutes water was spilled on the newspaper I had just laid on the table and one glass ornament was shattered into pieces.
Now, a Good Mother, who possessed patience and a little holiday spirit might have sighed a little, but understood, “hey! They’re just kids, relax! It’s Christmas.”
But me? I put my face in my hands and GROWLED, like “AAAHHHHHGRRRRRRRRR”.
“Are you going to cry mom? You’re going to cry, aren’t you?”
“No! I’m not going to cry! I’m going to take a few deep breaths and remind myself that this is fun and ACCIDENTS HAPPEN! So, give me a minute and we’ll get back to painting after I calm down.”
It’s like, I realize I’m being an Asshole Mother, but I can’t stop myself. How do you patient, christmas loving, perfect mothers DO IT? What is your secret?
Tony will be home in less then an hour and as soon as he takes a dump, we’ll head out to look for a tree. I’ve been thinking “positive thoughts” all day, but I promise you, the minute we hit the tree lot, I’ll be wishing I was at home, watching Dr.Phil whilst EATING MY 6TH BANANA for the day.
Because, trust me, that would be more fun than looking for a stupid Christmas Tree.
I have a confession.