I have mentioned a time or two before that I think our household could easily qualify to have a television show based on our daily lives. I guess we can say that the next episode could have been filmed this past weekend.
The events that took place perfectly fit the sitcom mold; someone has what seems like a good idea at the time and it ends with Dad having to lovingly but sternly help the perpetrator realize why their scheme should be avoided in the future.
You are probably curious which of our four kids came up with a lame brain plan that went awry. With my head hanging low I must admit it wasn’t any of them, it was I.
Taking down the average Christmas tree should be a simple process. Yes it is a chore. Untangling the lights off of brittle branches can be a little painstaking but it is sort of like childbirth, you forget about the pain when you are excited to deliver the next joyous tree into your home.
My main concern was that we were losing many needles with each day that passed. To remove the tree I would have to take it across the living room and dining room, through the patio doors, down the deck and to the backyard. Afraid there would be a mess of needles everywhere in those areas, I figured there had to be a better way.
I think that I am a fairly intelligent person so I could certainly come up with a plan. Before long, I had my “aha” moment…I could simple slide the tree out our second story window into the front lawn.
I had to do it just right though because I didn’t want it to land on the snow covered pumpkins in the yard. If it landed nicely, maybe we could hide Easter eggs in it this spring.
Three of the children were sitting with me in the living room when I announced my plan. One immediately voiced her opinion that it was a bad plan and that my husband would not approve, so she wanted no part of it. The next child pointed out to her that since their father was at work, there wasn’t much he could do about it. Also, she thought it sounded fun. While the child who was supportive of my plan helped me pop the screen out of the window and lift the tree, the third child happily marched around the room singing, “The window. The window. The tree goes out the second story window.”
Long story short, the tree got stuck in that second story window for hours. I pushed and kicked. I twisted limbs (both on the tree and my body). My mom jeans hadn’t felt that kind of movement since I participated in a tipsy Fall Festival dance off.
By the time the last shove finally sent that fat boy through, all of the needles of every branch were inside my living room. I vacuumed, clogged and unclogged the nozzles many times. We started the tree removal process at 1 p.m. and picked up that last needle 10 minutes before my husband pulled in the driveway at 6:15 p.m.
I was waiting for my husband Josh to lay into me about the severely crippled tree laying in our front yard, but Saturday evening he never said a word. On Sunday evening I finally had to broach the subject with him, as I needed his help removing pine needles that had slivered into my fingers so that I could type this week at work. We sat on the couch, he with a tweezers in hand. In a firm but caring tone, he went over the windows that could have been broken and more severe injuries that may have occurred.
In the end I learned my lesson. You might think that it is to purchase an artificial tree next year, but you would be wrong. Next time I get a questionable idea, I will wait until all four kids are home.
That extra set of hands would have been useful in cleaning up the mess.
I enjoy sharing my thoughts with you, and look forward to readers sharing their thoughts in return.
Feel free to email me at firstname.lastname@example.org, write me at P.O. Box 76, Baldwin WI. 54002 or I can be reached by phone at 715-268-8101.