Trimming the Tree

Rhett and I have been married for about a year and a half, but when you count the Christmas we spent together when we were dating this will our third shared Christmas. Along with picking the perfect evergreen, setting out all our holiday décor, and hanging the stockings, bickering on the day we decide to trim the tree has become a holiday tradition.

I can’t remember what we were fighting about in 2008- it was probably something he did- but I remember 2009 clearly. It was our first Christmas under the same roof, and we were ready to spruce up our little bungalow. Tensions were high - I was expecting and we hadn’t told anyone but my best friends, Rhett and I were both avidly looking for new jobs- but once there is hot cocoa in mugs and Amy Grant in the stereo (I am a big fan of cheesing it up for the season and forcing family fun) who could be anything but giddy?

We could.

Rhett saves everything (seriously, it should be another blog entry) and I am a no-nonsense purger. So there we were, looking though his holiday décor that includes ribbon from the 1980s and gilded plastic, when I say something like “Maybe we should use some of my things here instead of these relics” which gets met with “I don’t want Pottery Barn Kids stockings in my house” to which we both take offense that the other doesn’t like our taste, which explodes into allegations of not loving the other person, Christmas, or Jesus. (It didn’t go that far, but these things do escalate quickly.) I think I remember taking our oldest daughter to Target and letting Rhett trim the tree alone.

Fast forward and yesterday, 5 December 2010, was the big day of tree trimming. I took the oldest to the store for icing for a gingerbread house, and Rhett said he’d put lights on the tree while we were gone so that we could hang ornaments when we get home. Perfect. There was even a light layer of snow on the ground. Perry Como was practically seeping out of my pores.

When we drive up the driveway the tree is magically lit in our big front window and when I walk through the door the youngest is smiling sweetly and the oldest is about to jump out of her skin because she’s so excited to decorate.

“Let’s start!” I say to Rhett, who is on the computer.

“Just a sec- I’m working on some budgeting stuff. How much did you spend at Amazon?”

Are you kidding me? Nope. Because we were lacking the customary tension, Rhett decided a thorough analysis of our household finances would be appropriate on the day we decide to trim the tree. And he’s decided that the perfect timing for a discussion of holiday expenditures is RIGHT before John Denver and the Muppets Christmas CD is piped through the house.

Rhett was swiftly pulled away from mint.com, given a rum and coke, and told to sit down and be Christmas-y for crying out loud.

Crisis averted, we got the tree decorated and it was, despite Rhett's attempt to rain on my parade, a pretty good afternoon of holiday cheer. Advice? Save the discussion of seasonal spending until December 26, at least. Happy tree trimming!