Friday, December 14, 2012

Timber.

Cool.
For many, many, many years, I did not enjoy trimming our Christmas tree. I like order. I like balance. I like visual aesthetics. Maybe more than the average guy. Haphazard kids hanging ornaments haphazardly was no fun at all. For me.

I have been known to rearrange a shelf because too many books of the same color are too close in proximity. My eyes don't like it. Why suffer?

I have four versions of our Christmas card on my laptop. I have tweaked it to death.

In college, I pledged a sorority. During the entire semester, we were encouraged(!) to do favors for sisters in exchange for signatures. The goal was to get as many signatures as possible. I was born for this!  I cared for an iguana, I got a signature. I told a joke, I got a signature. I returned a sweatshirt to an ex-boyfriend, I got a signature. I had pages and pages of signatures. But I didn't like the way they looked. The different pens! Some light, some dark! Too random! My eyes!

So I went from page to page and simply traced each one with the same felt tip marker. (Oh, how I love a felt tip!) On the final night of pledging, I got in serious trouble. The good girl had gone bad. Apparently, it looked as though I forged them. Gutsy! (Um, is your iguana alive? Yes? Because I fed it!) I tried to explain, but how do you explain neurosis? At that moment, it seemed so ludicrous. (At my desk, with felt tip in hand, it seemed like a super plan!) I took my punishment which may or may not have been eating five fat bouillon cubes.

Twenty years later, I still use that incident to gauge whether it's worth fixing/changing/altering something when the result may please me, but may confuse/upset/alienate others.

The tree is an ideal example. For the last many Christmases, the kids would merrily decorate then walk off. I would quickly fix/reposition/totally change everything top to bottom until it was perfect. Someone had to intercede. Edy hung 14 ornaments on the same branch!

This year, they are older. (And a little uptight like me.) When every ornament was out of the box and on the tree, I stepped back and was pleased. Sure, there were a few I could have moved around, if I stared and obsessed. But I didn't. Stare or obsess. The tree was good and it was theirs.
Even Bea helped out by not putting hooks in her mouth and by not sucking the glitter off anything sparkly. Progress!

Crazy.
I was still basking in my chill mom status when I heard a loud crash. The tree fell.

I rushed downstairs and realized right away that there were some serious casualties. Anything fragile near the impact zone was smashed.

For our wedding present, Gail gave me a box of German glass ornaments, each with special meaning. She also gave us a beautiful Victorian angel -- ironically enough. For the last fifteen years, I have faithfully hung those delicate ornaments and proudly wedged that angel on the tippy top of every tree we have ever owned. For the last 6 years, it's been bitter sweet.

Now two of her ornaments were in teeny tiny pieces and I was faced with a decision. I could completely lose it or I could accept that the ornaments had a good run and nothing lasts forever. As I was mentally debating my reaction, I saw a breast cancer ornament among the mess and it buoyed me back. It's not a big deal. Cancer is a big deal. The love I feel when I remember Gail, that's a big deal.
It says "Faith Hope Love," not
"Weep for hours because your ornaments smashed."
I did most of the rehanging myself. The kids had moved on. So, a perfect tree again this year! I can't help myself.

1 comment:

  1. I'm sure she'd be proud of you for not losing it on your kids! Love this post because sometimes it's hard for moms to forget about perfection and just enjoy what is. And...I love Edy's halo :)

    ReplyDelete