And then I begrudgingly stopped trying to control Christmas traditions

Every year, I make a really big deal out of picking out our Christmas tree (examples here, here and here). I grew up  freezing my butt off as my family wandered the fields of cut-your-own tree farms, endlessly reciting “How ’bout this one?” as we eyed up possible contenders. Why would I not want the same for my own kids?

I’ve designated the weekend after Thanksgiving as our Tree Getting weekend, and this year, with two children to share it with, I envisioned the experience as chock full of holiday cheer. We would visit our favorite tree farm up the road from our house, where there’s sleigh rides, bonfires, hot chocolate and Christmas lights, and Adeline would relish every moment and Crosby would sleep peacefully bundled in his snowsuit. My sugar-plum-fairy-filled dreams began cracking when I learned the owners of the tree farm had retired and the farm was indefinitely closed.

My dreams began shattering when, on Cut Our Tree Down Day, I woke to a weather forecast of rain, rain and more rain. And indeed, that is exactly what it did. I could feel irritation boiling up inside of me as I realized I could not in good consciousness allow my newborn son to spend the afternoon getting soaked and freezing to death. I hated that he would not be part of this experience, especially on his first Christmas.

However, knowing that I had discovered The Second Best Tree Farm in Town (tractor rides through fields illuminated with lights, visits from Santa, warm fires, hot cocoa and cookies), I tried to make the best of it as I forced boots onto my screaming daughter, who had decided that morning that she loathed the new winter footwear she herself had selected at the store. We left Crosby with his Grandma and Papa and my frustration level maxed out as the wind and rain whipped at our car.

So you can imagine how I felt when, on arrival, the Tree Farm Folks informed us that 1) due to the rain, there would be no tractor rides, 2) due to the lack of people, Santa would not be coming and 3) none of the trees in their fields were big enough to cut down, but we could pick from the precut trees they had shipped in a few days ago. And that’s when decided to laugh instead of beat the Tree Farmer with every precut tree in sight. Because how much more could go wrong? With much encouragement from my husband, who knows I get seriously irked when my grand daydreams don’t align with reality, I set aside my Norman Rockwell ideals and just went with it.

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After a few minutes of helping her I-Must-Have-The-Most-Perfect-Tree-Here father, Adeline quickly became bored.
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“I don’t want a tree, Mama. I want Santa.”
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Thank god this place sold little chocolate Santas (“Mama didn’t mean the actual real Santa would be here, Sweetie”) or we would’ve been completely screwed.

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On our way out, my Christmas spirit almost restored, I asked Addy and Joey to pose with some wooden snowmen figures in hopes I’d get a cute Christmas card out of it. Based on how the day had gone, it’s no surprise that these are the photos I ended up with.

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And while the entire experience did not go according to my holly jolly plans, we still had fun and walked away with great memories, though I am still heartbroken that Crosby wasn’t with us. I guess that’s all the more reason to make next years tree cutting experience the most festive ever!

• ← Attempted Christmas card
• And then extreme holiday cuteness ensued →