Tis the season. I spent most my day today Christmas shopping for my kids. By the looks of the Target I visited, the rest of the world had the exact same idea. People were everywhere, in fact, there were literally no shopping carts available when I entered the store and I had to grab one from someone who was leaving. This was not a good sign. Nothing gets me in the Christmas spirit quite like pushing a shopping cart through a jam-packed Target store filled with oblivious shoppers. There I was roaming the crowded aisles filling up my cart with unnecessary toys and gadgets and crossing each of them off my long list one by one. Kitty Surprise…Check. Football… Check. Legos…check.  Shopkins…check.
Amid all the chaos, I started reminiscing about Christmases past. All the childhood memories of shaking my presents under the tree for weeks and impatiently waiting for the big day to arrive. The more recent memories of staying up late on Christmas Eve sorting and getting all the gifts wrapped perfectly for my own children. Thinking about my children waking up at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning and my husband and I watching their excitement as they open the packages that Santa left under the tree. And then there is the glorious memory of the year mommy threw the Christmas tree to the ground in pure frustration. Yep. You read that right. Mom lost her shit and threw that damn oversized tree straight to the ground. Fully decorated I might add.
Before you judge, let me tell you the whole story. It was one of the years that we decided to get a real Christmas tree. The whole family went up to the local tree lot and we picked out the biggest, fullest Christmas tree they had. No joke. This thing was massive. We have vaulted ceilings, so a 10-ft. tree should fit just fine. So, we strapped that bad boy to the top of the car and headed home for the decorating festivities.
We spent that entire evening setting up the tree and getting it decorated just so. Well…as perfect as you can get with a two-year-old. There it was…. the beast stood 10 tall feet into the air. It was fully decorated with lights, garlands, and ornaments. It was really beautiful. And then…it fell over. Crashed to the ground with a huge thud, spilling all the water from the tree stand onto the carpet and ornaments crashed and shattered everywhere. Great. We cleaned it up and back up it went. Phew. Crisis averted…Nope.
Over the next couple days, the damn tree fell over two or three more times.  Each time, we woke up to find spilled water all over the carpet and broken ornaments everywhere. Honestly, I’m surprised that I didn’t lose my shit earlier.  But like idiots, we just kept putting it back up.
One night, we were sitting in the living room relaxing and watching TV. Then it happened again…the damn thing started tipping. My husband leaped up and ran over to the tree and caught it before the whole thing crashed to the ground. Nice save. He asked me to hold it up while he did something to the tree stand so we could stand it back up. There I was holding the heavy, fully decorated 10-foot tree. The needles were starting to scratch up my arms, my back was starting to hurt, and the sap was all over my hands. I don’t know what exactly my husband was doing, but it was taking WAY too long. I had enough.  So, I yelled out in frustration and threw that massive bitch to the ground. Ornaments shattered, water spilled, husbands yelled, and children cried. I was done. The Grinch threw the Christmas tree.
After it all happened, and I realized what I had done, I remember turning around and seeing my two-year-old son just standing there crying and scared. Poor kid. He didn’t understand what had happened. He just watched mommy the Grinch smash his beautiful Christmas tree. Sadly, that will not be the last time he will see mommy lose her shit. I think he is adjusting well.
Lesson learned. After four attempts, the Bismark geniuses determined that the tree stand we had was just too small for the massive tree. We ended up getting a new tree stand and thankfully, it never happened again.

 

Well, there you have it. That folks, is how the Grinch stole Christmas. Merry fricking Christmas.