Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree

In the year of our Lord 2016 decorating the Christmas tree, for some strange reason, went down a little different than any past year I can recall. My husband was here “helping.” Now I get the song God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman! Just go take a nap already!

Last week some thoughtful male in our home brought the Jenny Craig imitation tree into the living room for me. How nice! Except that it didn’t get covered all year from Last Christmas and was filthy. Upon request, a son of mine dragged it to the backyard for me and I gave it quite the shower…. lights and all. I couldn’t remember if the lights actually worked and I knew we had 27 million strings of lights from our daughter’s wedding in the garage. Her wedding wasn’t IN the garage… that’s where the lights were.

A day later an extension cord was also brought to the backyard to see if the shower killed the lights. Surprisingly, they worked! Joy to the World! Back in the house that skinny tree was dragged.

Decorate-the-O-Christmas-Tree day quickly turned into clean-out-the-garage day, much to my chagrin. It all started at 10 a.m. with the typical where-is-the-box-with-the-decorations search and recover mission. Then the shelves got cleaned out and the toilet paper and paper towels were put on the clean shelves. Then we swept the garage floor. Then the camping equipment got put back on the shelves. Then a ton of junk got thrown out. Then I got a big scrape on my arm that produced blood. Then we swept the garage floor again. Then we threw out the dilapidated camping chairs that served their purpose for 11 strong years. (This is how my kids write stories. Every sentence starts with “then.” It really holds the interest of the readers and keeps the story moving along rapidly.) Then we found the bag of sheep’s wool that we will need to study sheep in January. Then we were all hungry. Then the Popsicle man came at the right moment. Then five kids from the youth group showed up and ate tacos at our kitchen table.

Side note: this was a stay-at-home-and-look-ugly day. I hadn’t even brushed my hair. I did brush my teeth because you can only be so gross on a stay-at-home-and-look-ugly day. I was sporting a red t-shirt, grey bally sweat pants that are floods, fuzzy black slippers and a light blue and pink Peter Rabbit apron covered with ruffles. The Popsicle man is probably used to this sort of housewife-dressing-down-deal. At least that’s what I kept telling myself.

It was 7:30 p.m. when Nora, our 13-year-old, could not take the suspense any longer and begged to decorate the tree. Okay, Okay! Don’t get pushy! Let’s get this Blue Christmas rolling!

We weren’t ten minutes into our mission when realization hit me that my husband hasn’t really helped hang ornaments on the tree for YEARS! He was not aware of the ornament rules and was breaking the ornament rules faster than I could instruct him in the ways of righteousness. Little ones on top. Big ones on bottom…. but not the last row of branches. Ugly ones in the back. Elvis ones in the back. (I had to make that two rules so Rick didn’t know I think the Elvis ornaments are ugly. Shhhh.) Expensive ones at eye level and next to lights. Sheesh. How hard is it? It was notably NOT a Silent Night!

Here is the front and center of our tree: (Several rules are broken!)

Then he figured since I had rules, he needed to make some rules. “Don’t linger by the ornament box! Just pull out your ornament and move away from the box!” Sheesh! I’ll admit I rolled my eyeballs toward heaven a few times and thanked God that He gave me All I Want for Christmas in this helpful man.

So, It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas at the Crosby homestead! I pray your decorations went up with glee! May your Christmas be merry and bright at this Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

Flashback Friday!

Well, tomorrow is Friday… but Flashback Thursday did not sound as good as Flashback Friday.  Anyway, our younger son who is the one sporting the orthodontic headgear has had the contraption on his face non-stop since he got it.  I didn’t think he would be this diligent, especially after the first night when he said it made his entire top row of teeth hurt!  Tonight I found out why he is wearing it every moment he can…. my husband calculated how much it will cost if he has to wear it for the full nine months…. and he told Keeve that he will PAY HIM if he gets it off early!  Bribery is alive and well in my God-fearing home. And can I just add here that money talks in this house!

This reminded me of another bribe-gone-bad from a few years back.  Both my boys were scheduled at the dentist on the same morning.  The dentist looked at our older son’s teeth and announced that one tooth, which was already loose, needed to be pulled.  He quoted me $60 to pull the loose tooth.  I phoned my husband to give him the update and he asked to talk to our son.  They talked.  Then hung up.  I asked what was going on!  My money-saving husband told our son that he would pay him $30 to pull the tooth himself!  A savings of $30!  Of course, our son was all for the $30 tooth pulling plan and started pushing and prodding the loose tooth.

Back I went to the other son in the next room and sat with him during his cleaning.  After a while, son#1 called out my name, “MOM!”  I went in there to discover a bloody hand holding the prized $30 tooth.  I was not surprised.

After cleaning #2 son’s teeth, the dentist reappeared in the room of son #1 who was still holding his freshly extracted canine.  The dentist was a bit surprised (and probably sad at losing and easy $60) and had a peak in my boy’s mouth.  His next comment made me laugh all the way home (just like the little wee-wee-wee piggy!)  “Son, you pulled the wrong tooth.”  It was all okay in the giant dental picture, as it was coming out soon and was loose as well. 

So we arrived home with the $30 tooth still in his head and a free tooth in his hand.  My husband gave him two days to pull the other one, or the $30 deal was off. At the end of day two the money exchanged hands and the Big Indian Tooth Fairy (my husband) was busy twice in one week!

Oh, the joys of parenting with purpose!