Oh, Christmas Tree!

So, in true Peterson fashion we have continued our tradition of the annual tree falling. What, you ask? Well, during the last two years our Christmas tree has taken a nose dive onto the living room carpet, typically when fully decorated. By some small miracle I have managed to avoid breaking any precious/sentimental/expensive ornaments. This year, determined to avoid another explosion of pine needles, my husband decided to purchase a new stand for the tree. Because we buy rather big trees, we felt our old brass stand just wasn't managing the weight, and it is also a very difficult stand to adjust when it comes to straightening the tree.

We spent a lovely afternoon with Isabelle's grandparents, Helen and Ron, choosing, cutting and bringing home the tree and putting it into the stand where upon we all remarked at the ease in which it went up. That evening I managed to get all the lights on as well as the garland and tree topper and went to bed feeling comfortable with the knowledge that I would just have ornaments to do in the morning. At 4:30 a.m. a crash was heard and while Clay left the bed to investigate I stayed put, fearing the worst, but honestly already thinking at least the ornaments were not on it. He came back cussing, swearing and blaming my fat cat Nib, who he had seen running from the scene of the crime. (Let me just say that Clay has developed a rather intense dislike for Nib, one stemming I believe from Nib's poor hygiene habits, sloth-like appearance, and inability to take a hint and just leave a person alone. Therefore, if Clay could blame Nib for terrorism, high gas prices, and say .... the media's negative impact on children, he would.) Needless, to say I did not believe Nib did anything other than get the crap scared out of him when the tree fell over; he is just too lazy.

The next morning, Clay, amidst a lot of swearing and railing against the world about the unfairness of having trees continually fall over, went out and bought a piece of plywood which he secured to the bottom of the tree stand. Back in the living room once more we surveyed the tree upright in the corner, while Isabelle danced among the pine needles, carpeting my floor. Clay left to clean up the garage and I had just begun to think of cleaning up the mess when the spruce once more started tipping in my direction. Out of a sheer desperation I put out my hands and managed to grab the tree, preventing it from falling on me and crushing me into the floor, only to realize I was not strong enough to push it back upright. Oh, the scene we must have made if someone had looked in the window! Me awkwardly embracing a mangled up Christmas tree, while my 2 year old capers around the room, sing-songing "the tree fall over, the tree fall over!" Yelling for Clay, he comes back into the house to discover me, and instead of rushing to my aid, pauses to swear some more. I tell him to get mad later and help me now and we manage to push the tree back into the corner. At this point Clay lost it. In what can best be called a barely controlled rage, he yanked the tree out of the stand and carried the stand (along with attached plywood) out the door into the garage. I listened as crashing, banging, and general mayhem was heard and decided it would be best to stay right where I was.

Isabelle and I sat among the wreckage that was our tree until Clay came back inside and asked what I wanted to do. In as calm a manner as I could possibly manage (picture a hunter trying to soothe a black bear ready to charge) I told him I would do whatever he wanted, whether that was trying to make this tree work, getting a new tree, getting a fake tree or not having a tree at all, so long as he would calm down. Of course, being a yooper guy there was not going to be a fake tree in this house and ultimately we determined to buy a new one. (By this point we had examined our current tree closely and concluded its trunk was most closely shaped to the letter "S" so that if the bottom of the tree looked straight the top was crooked, and if the top was straight the bottom was crooked.) Clay left to get the new tree, and I spent the next hour untangling lights from the spruce that had now fallen over twice in one day. Before he left I tried my best to remind him, that Isabelle, who ultimately this was all for, didn't care if the tree fell over and was, in fact, having a grand time playing in the pine needles and calling the tree beautiful, despite it being on its side in our living room.

Ultimately, Clay came back with a new tree stand and a new tree. This one was a balsam and I must say it has the straightest trunk you have ever seen. The new stand works perfectly, being a more expensive version of the other one, without any plastic gears to strip when adjusting the tree. We are now well over a week with the tree remaining upright and Clay has finally ceased starting all of our phone conversations with "Is the tree still standing?" (On a side note, the din being heard from the garage was Clay destroying the tree stand attached to the plywood. I will be finding little green plastic pieces in every corner of the garage for the next year, I am sure. I pulled one out of a boot left next to the door just two days ago. And he wonders where his daughter gets her temper!?!) The old Christmas tree is now lighted and put outside where it manages to stay upright due to the healthy amount of snow we have on the ground. It actually looks quite nice, and I tell myself it gives some pleasure to the neighbors, so it is not a complete waste of money. For those of you wondering we are at a grand total of 120 dollars for two trees and two tree stands this year. However, money aside, I laugh to think of telling Isabelle about this when she is older. This year is her third Christmas, and we have yet to have a tree since she has been with us that has not fallen over. But there is always next year!