Not my house. It was too early to remember to take a picture of our fallen tree. You get the gist...insert wink.
Happy Monday, dear reader. I hope your weekend was spent celebrating with family and friends. We spent the weekend mixing celebration with hard work. Our online specials and deals have been well received. We are grateful for all the love and support you have shown us and our small business. One must find a balance between hard work and family.
We put up our Christmas tree on Friday, detracting from your usual mad rush to prepare for Christmas at the last minute. My friend Trisha made an excellent point; she pointed out that there is no difference between a tree sitting on a lot or decorated in your house; it’s already cut. With that in mind, I insisted we put up our tree on Friday rather than wait until two or three days before Christmas. My bean loves her Christmas tree. Enjoying it for a month rather than a week is a spirit booster.
Feeling very accomplished and ahead of the Christmas curve, I sat basking in the glow of the tree. The Bean and I have a tradition before we pack the presents under the tree, we make hot cocoa, build comfortable, cozy nests, turn on a Christmas movie, and have a sleepover under the Christmas tree. We have been doing our under-the-tree sleepover since she was tiny. It’s one of our favorite things to do during the holiday season.
Last night was our sleepover. We turned on Dash and Lily on Netflix, made our warm drinks, and snuggled in under the tree for the night. The Bean slept under the tree while I curled up on the couch. Sleeping on hardwood floors is great when you are thirteen. It’s the cause of aches and pains when you are fifty. Of course, I fell asleep almost immediately. My bedtime is nine o’clock at the very latest. I feel like this is one more sign of getting older. It feels like midnight if I’m up past ten o’clock.
I awoke at eleven o’clock to my bean prancing around the living room, getting a drink, and looking for the remote. I remember mumbling, “You’d better get some sleep, kid,” and falling back into a deep slumber soon after. Being able to stay up past nine o’clock is another luxury of youth. I stayed awake long enough to see her settled in her pillow nest and soon was drooling, jerking, and grunting in my sleep. My deep slumber would quickly be interrupted once again.
Around 1:30 a.m., I was rudely awakened by a loud crash, glass breaking, and a startled scream from The Bean. As I was jolted awake from this disturbing commotion, I was dismayed to find the Christmas tree on top of the couch, the angel by my head, and the ornaments scattered all over the room, the sofa, and me. The Bean was sitting up in the middle of the pillow nest she had created, hyperventilating and wild-eyed. Thankfully, she was okay, and the tree was nowhere near her. After sleepily muttering my new favorite term of extreme provocation, “Fu**-ity Fu**!” I climbed out from under the angel, ornaments, and tree. I stood gazing at the mess before me and thought, “Nope!”
The Bean’s inability to stay in one spot while she sleeps worked in her favor last night. She had wiggled herself well away from under the tree. Although shaken and covered in pine needles, she was fine, just frightened. We both sat dazed and confused, staring at the fallen tree, the broken ornaments, and the water all over the floor. Sigh. I’m too old for this nonsense.
We got towels and cleaned up the water. We made two failed attempts at righting the fallen tree, decided it was too early in the morning to deal with such nonsense, and went to our beds upstairs. Now mind you, dear reader, a fallen Christmas tree makes a lot of noise. Not a peep, a stir, or an interruption in the snoring pattern came from either one of my useless dogs or The Bibbed Wonder. That man could sleep through a war. As for my dogs, I assumed they would be our first line of defense should something go wrong. No, that is not the case. They open one eye, hope their humans will handle whatever created the commotion, and go back to snoring and dreaming. It’s good that all of them are cute, including The Bibbed Wonder. Otherwise, I might be looking for all their replacements.
The Bibbed Wonder came in from doing the barn chores this morning. I asked if he had noticed the tree had fallen. He told me he noticed it when he came in from the barn. He walked right past it when he came down the stairs. Sigh. Observation is not one of his strengths. We then proceeded to try to right the fallen tree. Please remember that I have not had my morning cup of coffee yet. I find dealing with my child and my husband before I’ve had my coffee to be challenging…sometimes impossible. However, being the trooper I am, I stood and watched my tree-righting wonder buns struggle and swear for a few minutes before my brain function kicked in and told me to help out.
One disgruntled wonder buns asked for a screwdriver. My initial thought was, “What do you want me to do? Pull it out of my butt?” Even in a caffeine-deprived state, I refrained from making such rude comments. Honestly, sometimes I feel like I should get a trophy for my ability to keep my smart mouth shut. However, again delayed but still kicking in, my brain function told me to get the man a screwdriver. Of course, I got the wrong one. Really, what can one expect at seven in the morning with no coffee flowing through my veins? He grudgingly made do with the screwdriver handed to him.
I was asked to hold the tree steady. At this point, all I want is for The Bibbed Wonder to stop talking to me, a cup of coffee, and to plant my ass on the couch in front of the television and watch the news in peace and quiet. Rather than enjoy my usual morning routine, I now have a face full of pine needles and branches unpleasantly poking various regions of my body. Sigh.
I let go of the tree for a split second to readjust the prickly branch that was poking me in the boob and the one poking me in the eye, and just like that, it fell…again. I held my breath and heard an annoyed sigh from under the tree. My impatient and rather nasty bib overall-wearing buddy growled, “Way to hold the tree, Tina!” Still lacking caffeine, it took me a minute to help pull the tree off him. His rather nasty retort brought out the maturity in me, and I stood and made faces at him through the branches. I stuck my tongue out at him, only to be met with a mouthful of pine needles. Sigh. I should have stayed in bed.
Tina never gets credit for the things she doesn’t say. I wanted to respond with, “Who in their right mind allows the eighty-pound thirteen-year-old with the attention span of a gnat to tighten the screws in the tree stand? DUH!” but I didn’t. It was too early for an epic battle of verbal barbs, and I just wanted coffee and my couch.
We finally got the tree upright, avoided an argument, laughed a little over the situation, and parted on good terms. After he took care of the animals, righted the fallen tree, showered, and didn’t string me up by my toes for dropping a tree on him, I dared to complain about The Bibbed Wonder’s messiness. I was asked rather tersely if his punishment would be having a tree dropped on him. Sigh; he makes the lower region of my torso ache. I’m sure he is going to work my dropping a tree on him into various conversations throughout the day. I may need an extra cup of coffee to deal with him.
On this gloomy, windy day in November, stay safe, be smart, don’t allow the lightweight in the family with the attention span of a gnat to put up your tree, don’t drop a tree on your husband, you’ll never hear the end of it, don’t say everything that pops into your head (especially if caffeine-deprived), read your email about Cyber Monday savings, and keep washing your hands.