O Tannenbaum

There has always been a point of contention in our house around Christmastime.  An issue that causes much discussion between myself and my other half.

Real or fake. Christmas trees, that is.

Now I am in the "real" camp when it comes to Christmas trees.  We always had a real tree growing up.  I loved it.  Loved the smell of the pine needles.  Loved the roughness of the nubby branches when I ran my finger across them.  I used to sit for hours under the tree, organizing my presents (nah, I wasn't spoiled at all) and enjoying the canopy that the Douglass fir provided me.  It was magical.  Pure and simple.

Of course, one might say, I wasn't the one watering said tree.  Or picking up the plethora of pine needles as they slowly made their descent from the lovely branches onto the carpet below.

True dat.

So when I married Conor D. Crimmins, and he told me that an artificial tree was definitely THE way to go...well, I caved.  As a couple, we bought a very beautiful, very full tree-in-a-box.  And it's been fine.  Certainly very easy.  No watering.  No mess of pine needles.  And, as they say, it does look real until you get up really, really close.  And even then, once the lights and ornaments are on, it's pretty hard to discern that it's made of synthetic materials.  Oh, and it's so cost-effective too.  Same tree every year equals no wasted cash money.  One might even say that it's "green" of us, ironically.  Truth be told, I really did get accustomed to it over time.  I settled for having some live garlands draped over the banisters and atop the kitchen windows.  I made peace with it.  We were artificial tree people.  That was just us.

But it has to be said.  A part of me died inside every time we lugged our Christmas tree up from the storage room in a big red sack and unzipped it.  The Martha Stewart in me (what, don't we all have a mini Martha Stewart living inside of us?) cringed as Conor put our tree together, stacking the three parts of "tree" on top of one another like a snowman.  And then the branch straightening began (because, you know, it's been stuffed in a bag for 11 months). 

I'm sorry, people, it just doesn't seem right.

Well, this year I'm happy to report that I got my own personal Christmas wish.  A live tree.

I'd like to say that I won a hearty debate with my husband where my reason prevailed over his.  But who are we kidding?  I'm married to Conor Crimmins.  Dude could out-argue the devil himself.

No, our live tree came about due to a little condition we call Le Maisonnette.  That's French for small house (I just googled it).  That's right, we literally have no room for our Christmas tree anymore in our teeny little bungalow.  No room at the inn, so to speak.

You see, in years past, we put our Christmas tree in the dining room.  And, oh, it fit perfectly.  The best part was that it faced out to the street so you could see the twinkling lights from the sidewalk.  Just divine.

However, these days, there is now a new occupant of our dining room.  Mr. Seamus Fionn Crimmins is now sleeping there.  And literally there is no other place where the tree can fit without blocking a doorway.  Believe you me, we tried.

So, with much chagrin, my wonderful husband agreed that we could get a very small live tree for the living room.  Hooray, cried my inner Martha Stewart!

After years of live tree deprivation, I wasn't about to merely go to a tree lot and purchase a tree.  No Sir Ree Bob.  So we headed to the tree farm, baby.  Clark W. Griswold style.

We're gonna having the hap-hap-happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny F'ing Kaye.

Turns out it's a wee bit challenging to find just the right tree at a tree farm.  We drove around and around and around.  None of them were quite right.  The babe was getting fussy.  The sun was setting.  Things weren't looking good for Team Crimmins.

And then, finally...we found it.  (Cue Hallelujah music).  Our perfect little Christmas tree.  It wasn't anything too fancy, big, or spectacular.  But it was just right for us.

Our son with a hacksaw: this might not end well.

Conor and Fionny chopped it down with their bare hands (and a little help from the hacksaw), and we toted it home on top of the car.  We stuck it in our newly purchased tree stand (the artificial tree had its own built-in stand), tucked it into the corner.  And viola!  Behold our Christmas shrub!

 

Yes, that's Parenthood on the TV in the background.  We're enjoying a Snow Day, and both boys are asleep.  Thank you, Jesus!

My next installment will include photos of the rest of our festive decorations.  We are in the Christmas spirit over here at 1405 Newton Street!

Happy holidays, Everyone.