The Great Christmas Tree Disaster of 2010

Last night I made perfect peppermint frosting.  Seriously.  It was phenomenal.  I think it was my redemption moment for the evening.  For the boys' birthdays, I made bright yellow and blue cakes shaped like Legos, and I had frozen the leftover frosting for an emergency dessert moment.  (Hey, mock me if you will, but these moments obviously happen to me.)  I thawed the two cans of frosting, and when I combined them, they actually blended into a lovely shade of light green.  (Purists be damned.  Mint things need to be green.)  Then I slowly added peppermint extract and the result was amazing.  Peppermint frosting, made from the canned stuff, that wasn't overwhelming in mint flavor and didn't taste like chemicals.  Tonight it will be added to a pan of brownies that didn't work out quite right.  I tried a sample frosted brownie last night, and the result was heavenly.  Not only great frosting, but totally salvaged brownies.  Some melted chocolate might be drizzled over the top as an added bonus.
 
I call the frosting creation my redemption moment because the afternoon was marked by the Great Christmas Tree Disaster of 2010.  (I'm a realist.  I am a totally klutz.  We have two dogs and 3.34 kids.  I know we are not done with Christmas tree disasters.  I am just hoping this is the only one in 2010.)  In short, yesterday we learned that glass Christmas ornament balls and ceramic floors don't mix.

In the ten years that Jeff and I have been together, we have never had a full-sized Christmas tree.  I briefly contemplated purchasing one this year, then I realized that Leon would just spend the holidays trying to scale the thing.  Next year is probably out since we will have a ten-ish month old, but maybe the next year.  Last year, since the boys were busy pulling up on things, in lieu of having any sort of Christmas tree at child height, we put out what we refer to as the Christmas tree village on our bar.  It is collection of three little artificial Christmas trees that individually each look like Charlie Brown Christmas trees, but when lit and decorated, you can practically hear Linus saying, "I never thought it was such a bad little tree. It's not bad at all, really."  But, as "not bad" as they may be, I really liked the idea of having a tree that the kids could sit around and find presents under, and we have also have a four-foot tall fake tree that I acquired my first Christmas out of college.  I figured it was low enough that Leon wouldn't see it as a new jungle gym and felt sure the kids could handle having it out in our living room.  I didn't know that our floors were plotting against us.

Yesterday while the boys were napping and Jeff was busy watching the Bengals, Ree and I decided to put up the tree.  She did a fabulous job of entertaining herself by emptying out the plastic bins of Christmas stuff and reading all the Christmas books while I put it together.  Then I went to put on the lights and realized that the only Christmas lights we had were a strand of all purple lights leftover from my college days and a monstrously long strand of colored lights we used to outline our entire garage last year.  Neither was quite what I was looking for, but amazingly, Ree and I happened to stop at Target on Friday afternoon and we happened to browse the Christmas section and we happened to pick up a set of retro globe lights.  Perfect.  I put them on, and while the tree was a bit dark, I figured it would look better with ornaments, and I could always add other lights later.

Then it was time to decorate.  Ree was very excited, and she and I started hanging ornaments.  About three ornaments in, Ree accidentally dropped a snow globe ornament.  It only fell about six inches, but it shattered.  She was okay with it, and while warning bells were starting to go off, I just cleaned it up without too much thought.  Although we normally put the tree skirt on last, I went ahead and put it around the tree, with a fleece blanket under it for extra padding, just in case of other ornament disasters.  Thankfully, we got through the tree trimming without any of those, and we even finished before Leon and Michael woke up from naps.

When the boys woke up, they were very excited about seeing all the Christmas stuff.  Since I hadn't cleaned up yet, Leon was especially excited to see all the bins with their lids off, and he busily ran around the living room putting all of the sorted decorations back into the bins and slamming the lids on.  (Ahh, my little "helper".)  The boys and I had a chat that the tree was for looking at, not for touching, and they seemed pretty respectful.  Michael walked around it, naming every ornament, with his hands neatly clasped behind his back in parade rest.  Leon wasn't quite so respectful, but he at least limited himself to poking at ornaments rather than pulling them off the tree.

Then dinner time rolled around.  I'm not sure who or what was the cause, but I suddenly found myself having to abandon my lo mein to clean up a Bengals ornament ball that had shattered in the middle of the living room.  It wasn't too much later that I heard Michael delightfully exclaim, "Ball!  Then I heard the tinkling sound of another ornament crumbling upon impact with the floor.  Michael was remorseful, and I was contemplative.  Had he really learned his lesson?  Could this work?  And I felt bad undoing all of Ree's hard work.  Since we have been married, each year I have made ornaments for everyone in our family.  Ree, a chip off the ol' block and a true math geek, had made it a point to find each year's set and arrange them together on the tree.  She must've read my mind, because that's when she spoke up and said, "Mom, maybe we should just put up the little trees up high."  The kid was so right.


So while the kids ate dinner, I went to the garage, got out the other trees, and started setting them up on the bar in a back corner of our dining room.  I also made the kids stay in their seats a little longer than they needed to so I could transfer most of the ornaments to the tree village.  Shortly after dinner, I once again heard Michael say, "Ball!" and then heard the distinctive sound of another ornament shattering.  And I, again, found a remorseful Michael.  Apparently he either forgot the incident before dinner or figured it couldn't possibly happy again.  But at least I knew we really needed to limit Christmas decorations to those at least four feet in the air.  The kids clearly aren't ready for a tree at their level.

After the kids went to bed, I finished decorating the tree village and put away the additional ornaments from the other tree.  Just as I was finishing, I too dropped an ornament, and it shattered.  Doh!  Apparently I too am not ready for a tree at my level.

So after I got that mess squared away, I made the peppermint frosting.  And when all was said and done, and I was munching on my delightful dessert, the little Christmas tree village looked nice.  And the lessons for the day are, when in doubt, head to the kitchen.  Also, install wrestling mats throughout the living area before putting up a Christmas tree.  Either that, or only use Kevlar ornaments.

From The Baby Blues Archive