Back to the tree. It started out so well, standing straight, full of bushy green needles just waiting for ornaments and lights.
And waiting.
And waiting.
Waiting because somehow only three boxes of lights surfaced in all of the Christmas storage bins--enough to do the top half in colored lights and a thin smattering of white lights from the top to about three feet above the floor. Carden and Seth wanted both colored and white lights on the tree, and I kept thinking I'd make it to the store to buy more. Finally after three days of their relentless pleading I thought, "the heck with this. It's good enough." I tugged the strands around to make it appear more even (albeit even more sparse now) and announced the tree ready for decorating. Three eager helpers descended upon me, snatching all the unbreakable ornaments they could find (most featuring popsicle sticks and a lot of glitter) and crammed them onto one side of the tree.
Now we are one week away from this poor tree's day of glory and this is what I've got.
A crumpled tree skirt from when I accidentally sucked it into the vacuum cleaner.
A big blob of star garland. This is from when Carden accidentally sucked it into the vacuum cleaner, slurping it off the tree at a frightening speed. Once he pulled it out, I think he just threw it at the tree, hoping it'd stick.
A tree with some major bare spots on the top and sides. Two boxes of pretty but breakable ornaments sitting on the couch. Maybe we can get together?
But you know, I was reminiscing about the Christmas trees of my childhood with my brother, and we only really remembered the tree that fell over the day after we'd decorated it, or the tree Dad picked out by himself (the ugliest, scrawniest, lumpiest one on the lot), or the live tree that died once we planted it in the yard. So on that note, I think I'll remember my "Invictus Tree" for a long time to come.
