Simply Unqualified: Christmas Tree-ality

Myth: This year, Owen, Neil and I squeezed our bundled up bodies into the cab of Neil’s truck for our annual pilgrimage to the Christmas tree farm. On the way we sang Christmas carols, and then we merrily wandered around the tree farm until a beam of light descended from the heavens and pointed us in the direction of a perfectly formed Christmas tree.

Reality: This year, we squeezed our bundled up bodies in the cab of Neil’s truck for our annual pilgrimage to the Christmas tree farm (that part was real). We tuned the radio to the only available Christmas music, but the channel seemed only to play songs from an album entitled A Very Adult-Contemporary Christmas, so we made fun of it for as long as we could stand it, and then we shut that shit off. When we arrived at the Christmas tree farm, we agreed to let Owen lead the way. When he veered toward the amorphic, long-needled trees, I urged him to head in the opposite direction -- toward the more perfectly shaped, short-needled variety; you know, the ones shaped more like Christmas trees and less like giant blobs. As it turns out, my five-year-old doesn't share my love of symmetry because he was drawn to the blobbiest of the blob-tree variety. I managed to dissuade him from three or four of his first choices before Neil was forced to intervene.

Myth: In a sweet and subtle tone, Neil urged me to allow our son to choose our Christmas tree on his own.

Reality: In a sarcastic and amused tone, Neil stated what should have been obvious to me. “You’re not in charge here, idiot” he said. And he was right. On both counts.

Myth: Once we purchased our long-needled friend, we jingled all the way back home and trimmed the tree while sipping hot chocolate in front of a crackling fire.

Reality: Once we had already cut down our tree and lugged it back to civilization, we realized that the tree farm didn't accept debit cards, which was the only form of payment we were prepared for, so we left our tree-blob lying on the ground and drove 15 minutes to a neighboring town to get the cash required to make our holiday purchase. And because it was well into the noon hour by the time we headed back in the direction of our tree, we established what will surely become a new holiday tradition: Singing made up lyrics to Feliz Navidad while eating gas station hot dogs.

Myth: Your holiday will be every bit as perfect and magical as you imagined.

Reality: Your holiday will be every bit as rushed and annoying as you remember. BUT, if you allow yourself to scrape the sugar-coating off the idealized holiday that exists only in your mind, and if you stop thinking about what Christmas (or Halloween or Valentine's Day) SHOULD or COULD look like, you will find what is true. And truth is always better than illusion, and in my experience it's usually twice as funny.