Every year we have a weird Christmas tree. It has been the source of much of my writing. I’ll include links at the bottom of this post in case you need to catch up.
This year we spent some time negotiating the tree decision over Thanksgiving break. In the end, we decided to go with an idea that Lydia had actually last year that didn’t make the cut. A shelf tree.
Nathan and Lydia, and then Nathan and Abby, spent several hours building circular shelves of varying sizes. They actually used the center of our last year’s tree as the center pole. They painted it green by combining all the random green paints they found in our house. And so stands our shelf tree.
I definitely didn’t love it. It actually reminds me of something from Dr. Seuss. It’s not terrible, but it doesn’t look like a tree. And where to hang ornaments?
So we decided to staple branches on to it to give it some dimension. Then the kids added a few ornaments. And one present.
It ended up like this. I still didn’t love it. Actually I had to put a cute tree outside by my swing to help distract me from this eye sore and allow me to just let it be whatever it was going to be.
We hit a low point when people starting putting their dishes on the big empty shelves of the tree. Really, people. This is just my life.
I decided it would at least look better with gifts. And I believe it does. It’s still not a tree in my mind, but it’s something festive. And no less than I would expect from my family.
Our Christmas tree is much more a reflection of our entire family than it is of me. My children and husband are creative and out-of-the-box and oh so much fun. They plan and scheme and discuss and compromise and work together each year on our Christmas tree. They stretch me and my preconceived ideas about Christmas in a good way. There are other parts of Christmas that will reflect me, but I’ve given this area over to them. I made the decision that this is okay and that it’s how I want it to be.