Decorating A Perfectly Shaped Thoroughly Fake Tree
Written by Dorothy Hill of Dorothy’s Desk

Some traditions are intentionally established. Sometimes it’s to carry on something from one’s childhood; sometimes it’s to do things in a uniquely individual way. My tradition of decorating the tree evolved over a rather short time and it’s entirely my own fault. It came to be known as Mom’s Annual Christmas Fit.

Tree decorating and perfectionism are a terrible combination. I didn’t know how to disarm the need for perfection so things just continued to escalate and irritate.

My first Christmas tree as a young married was, in a word, ugly. The shape, the trunk, one bare side, and scraggly looking limbs. I don’t know who bought that tree, I certainly have no memory of it. I rather suspect Jerry found it tossed out on the curb and decided that this should work fine with enough lights and tinsel. It didn’t. We had been married about 7 weeks and it was probably time for him to see what he was in for.

The trunk wouldn’t fit in the tree stand. We didn’t own an axe. Really, what newly wed couple who doesn’t live in the forest gets an axe for a wedding present? If we ever wanted to see our deposit, we knew better than to put a couple of eye-bolts in the wall to support this wretched tree as it tried to stand up in a bucket of sand. So we leaned the tree into the only empty corner of our tiny apartment. It took 2 extension cords to reach the outlet for the lights. My frustration level escalated and Jerry tried to diffuse the situation before I threw the tree back out the door. He put all the lights on the side of the tree that was visible, laid down a healthy sheet of individual tinsel strands then he plugged it in. We agreed that the tree would be okay as long as the room lights were turned off and we stood as far back from the tree as we could and squinted as we looked at it.

Those were the days before LED cool lights. Our lights burned hot and bright, and as the tree dried out, somewhat scary as well. Memories of that tree of ugly undoubtedly fueled the determination to have the perfect tree. If people in the stores can decorate a lovely tree, why can’t I? I’ve decided there must be something amiss in my DNA. Yeah, that’s it. DNA

The trees that have been attempted over the years span the fads of time. I have had real trees that were just as hard to take down as they were to put up. The thing that drove me to fake trees was the dried and poky-sharp needles that defied vacuuming and had to be individually picked out of the carpet.

My tree collection that resides in my attic includes a 7’ fake pine that has 100 limbs or so. 100. They are color coded for each layer. If the dab of color has worn off we just have to guess. Even now I just shake my head at even the idea of this tree. Of course wire limbs have to gently bent and massaged into the right shape to make the tree resemble a tree. I have been known to toss a few of those limbs back into the box while mumbling that the person who had the original manufacturing idea for this ‘some assembly needed’ tree, needs to be fired. I can’t believe that tree is still in our attic.

Our 6’ skinny tree was purchased to fit into a much smaller space. Just because it was skinny didn’t make it easier to decorate. Even writing about this tradition signals the internal stress-o-meter that there is a tree to decorate and preemptive stress hormones begin to increase.

My ceramic, tabletop size, permanently decorated tree that sits on a music box base is a no brainer. Set it on the table, plug it in, done. But it just doesn’t measure up to the actual Christmas Tree picture in my head. That, and there are 3 light bulb missing that cannot be replaced,

The fiber optic tree is 5.5 feet tall. It’s another plug and play thing. It’s okay, but doesn’t speak Christmas to my soul. One year the actual optic thingy didn’t work and I was, well, unhappy.

The 3 foot tree is a miniature pine tree whose wire limbs need to be twisted back into the shape of a tree. Evidently, my shaping got a bit enthusiastic and some of the limbs broke. That and it was missing one of the legs for the base.

The self-lit 6 foot, lovely shaped tree had a layer of lights that simply would not work. This tree inspired my husband to take the kids to Wendy’s for burgers just to avoid my mumbling and threats of tree ejection. He also took the instructions that included manufacturer contact information. Good job.

This year I have 6 days to get the tree up and presentable. On day 8 it will come right back down. I have expanded my perfect tree picture to include a Polar Express model train that has a remote control. It will run in a circle around the tree and puff little puffs of smoke and make train sounds. While talking to my husband about this his eyes got bigger and bigger and I just knew he was agreeing with the whole idea. I just knew he would love putting the train together and making it run properly. And Ave-the-Wonderful, our 2 year old granddaughter would clap with delight and say, “Good job, Papa!” when she saw it round the corner and come out from between the perfectly wrapped presents. So I was puzzled and dismayed when he very calmly said, ‘Absolutely not. There is not enough room for a train.” I saw the tension in his face dissipate when I agreed that he was probably right.

I’ve tried to tone the Tree drama down over the years, and I think I’ve been improving. My Annual Christmas Fit is not pretty, but my family has come to expect it. Evidently DNA changes slowly.

I am new, painfully new, to the blogging world. I write and second guess myself, reread until nothing makes sense and then, in an act of desperation I hit the delete key. I write about nature, poems, and things I observe. My oldest daughter, Terri, and I have co-written a book that will be published soon. I’m married and we have 4 grown children, 2 grown grandsons, a teenage granddaughter and a 2 year old granddaughter. I’m a follower of Jesus, and that is the most important relationship in my life.