It is Tuesday morning and I slept until 8:00 am (that's when I had to move my car from the meters as to avoid being ticketed) and I am enjoying a little Folger's with Splenda and 2%. (I know it's not Earl Grey from Fair Trade but, hey its Christmastime and Miss Aimee is on a budget!) To be honest, I am still recouperating from my hellish weekend. Before going into detail I will just preface you with this little excerpt:
"YOU ARE RUINING MY CHRISTMAS CHEER!!!!" My sister Bee (aka Haleigh) decided it needed to be announced rather angrily and loudly to the household. This statement pretty much sums up the pathetic attempt on my family's behalf to successfully choose and decorate our tree this year.
The plan had been agreed upon the night before. Bee gets done with mass at 10:00 am on Sundays, so she was going to pick me up (assuming I had hauled myself out of bed in time) and we were going to head to my Dad's condo in north Phoenix where my three sisters, annoying stepsiblings, and terrible stepmother-to-be would be picking out our Christmas Tree and decorating it. There would be happy music, hot cocoa, and a fire roaring in the living room (do not fret, Dad has an actual fireplace).
I wasn't exactly ready on time, which was fine because Bee had bought me a surprise mistletoe from the Cub Scouts and needed to bring it in (woot, woot! Thanks Bee!!!). After powdering my nose we set off in the direction of the 51 North.
Of course I was not surprised when we arrived at my Father's house (as agreed) before noon and no one in the house was showered, dressed, or (in some cases) awake. Fabulous. Instead I was given a grocery list and the care of four little girls to take to the store. After a half hour adventure of which included shouting in the produce section, running down two other Frye's customers with the cart, and an in-depth analysis of toothpaste (specifically the difference between Colgate and Crest, which was $0.30) we had the makings of a mid-west chili and disgust of the entire grocery store.
We arrived back at the condo to learn the household (terrible stepmother-to-be) was not ready for the tree retrieval. It was another hour before we set off in search of the nearest Home Depot. We finally got the show rolling and I was optimistic. Once we got to the tree lot, I was sure everyone's mood would improve.
I was wrong.
The girls could not agree on a tree and the resident hottie tree trimmer was not working this particular Sunday. My family finally agreed on a tree after a full half our of bickering, stomping, and whining. It is tradition for my three little sisters and I to take a picture with my Dad in front of the tree whilst it is strapped atop the car. We crowded around Dad smiling our fabulously cheesy grins we inherited from our grandmother on my Mom's side. I was slightly irritated when my Dad insisted the stepsibling (the other one, whom we changed our tree hunting plans from Saturday to Sunday for, decided not to join us) get in the photo. Apparently I was not as irritated as Abbey was, who promptly reminded our Dad that stepsibling is not his daughter and she shouldn't be in the picture. An awkward 10 seconds later we had a picture of my Dad looking pissed off, Abbey scowling, a look of oblivion from stepsibling, and fake smiles from myself, Bee, and Emmy.
Like most stories, it doesn't get much better from here. The ride home was spent in silence and the loud slam of car doors startled the neighbor boys playing outside of the complex. It was 3:45 and I was exhausted from a long night before with only a huge cup of coffee to keep me going. Abbey's poor attitude stems mostly from a condition called hypoglycemia, which basically means that if we don't feed her every few hours her sugar levels drop causing a wave of crankiness to wash over her. Evidenced by the scene at the Christmas tree lot, I was not the only one in need of something to eat.
Dad started making a pot of chili while my sisters and I huffed and gruffed about not being able to put the Christmas tree in the living room. An escalated conversation later my Dad was even more upset than he had been, I was at my boiling point, pine needles covered the living room floor, and our Christmas tree sat slightly leaning in the front room. Reluctantly I began to wrap the tree with white christmas lights. This has always been my job, since I am more anal about having the perfect amount of light on the tree than anyone else. Traditionally I end up wrapping the tree about two and a half times, the first time I wrap it upside down so the plug is on the wrong side, then it takes me re-wrapping half of the tree to realize I am wrapping it on the wrong side again. Finally, I successfully wrap the entire tree and gather a crowd to watch the lighting of our tree.
I had no patience this particular Sunday for rewrapping a tree we wouldn't even be opening our presents underneath. I put Bee and Abbey in charge of testing the lights and after checking and re-checking the plug several times, I began to wrap the tree. Half an hour later it was intricately laced with white lights. The girls gathered around me as I plugged in our tree. We stood back and all was silent. I squinted and cocked my head to the left. Six strands of white lights and the tree was still not illuminated to my standards. Six usually does it for a 7-foot tree, I always use six. Something was not quite right.
Upon inspection I found that half of three different strands were not lighting up do to broken bulbs. Apparently this slipped by my light-testing duo. I was able to salvage one strand of lights, but could not find replacement bulbs for the other two. I was almost in tears and had no energy to attempt to find working lights, dismantle the tree, and re-wrap it. I walked out of the room as my sisters attempted to convince me to re-do it. My family was bickering, I felt awful, and we couldn't even put the tree where we wanted because my Dad (terrible stepmother-to-be) said no: my Christmas spirit was crushed. It was at the sight of me moping around the kitchen that Haleigh felt it necessary to shout to the entire household that I was indeed, ruining her Christmas cheer.
We rode home in silence and all the while I could only think of years past, in which there was no bickering or fighting but excitment. I vowed to myself that I would never let Christmas be so unhappy again.
Pray for me as I undertake Spreading Christmas Cheer Part II: Christmas Cookie Baking and Decorating this weekend.
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