christmas 2007 (Photo credit: paparutzi)
Got to admit to feeling a tiny bit proud of myself. The ADHDer and I finished decorating the Christmas tree at least two hours ago and I haven’t moved anything yet.
Just hand me my ‘perfect parent’ award now, but don’t hate me for admitting that every time I catch the twinkle of that rogue (so wrong on every level) gold bauble flashing ‘look at me, look at me!’ amongst my classic red/white theme, I feel physically sick.
I’m trying to fight my demons. The Prozac is definitely helping.
It did nearly kill me, but we did it. This is a monumental achievement in my parenting history. I have finally put the neediness needs of my child above my own. And we now have one very ugly and over-decorated interesting Christmas tree.
I’ve tried everything in my power to deter the kids from bastardizing my tree in the past. I’ve resorted to buying two trees, acquiring miniature trees for their bedrooms, bribery by way of tacky lights for the exterior, but they have always want to be involved with decorating my the main tree no matter how much I doth protest.
You see, kids just don’t get style, co-ordination, colour or accessorising, do they? They ridicule me when I suggest that there is a ‘right way’ to decorate the tree, a particular order of dressing that has worked for centuries: lights, tinsel, decorations first, then tacky homemade/school decorations placed at the back of the tree (late at night when they are asleep).
Every year the dysfunctional family malfunctions hideously when they try to force me into a creative corner at Christmas – NEVER put Mum in the corner! I mean, this is what I do; my whole raison d’etre. I get slammed all year about my lack of brains by the two nerdiacs of the family, and verbally punched by the ADHDer at every opportunity just because I’m his mum (and he’s hormonal and very unreasonable, especially when hungry), but they forget that there’s one thing I am EXTREMELY good at, that I might even go so far to say I excel at, and that is decorating the Christmas tree. If there was a degree…
I’m sure that at this point you’re all begging to know my personal ‘theme’. Imagine ‘beach meets Shaker meets contemporary with a little bit of kitsch-rustic thrown in’; sounds like creative vomit (or modern art), I know, but I can assure you that ordinarily it works. There are starfish and birds, crystals and snowballs, all converging together in a perfect Christmas wonderland mélange on my tree. It is a tree that has evolved through time, without looking contrived; a schmick collection of carefully selected ornaments that has been nurtured through the years with love and a modern twist. It is not a ‘red theme’ ensemble hastily bought from Big W on Christmas Eve.
At the moment it looks like the tree has been dragged backwards through the Christmas decoration department of Target on a Harley Davidson, with its profusion of crass multi-coloured tinsel and overdose of lametta; (like his mother, the ADHDer likes his bit of sparkle!).
Nevertheless I have so far resisted the urge to ‘re-arrange’.
The thing is a monstrosity. It makes mall trees look tasteful. I have Christmas drinks next week and I will be justifiably ridiculed by my friends, who once considered me to be the bastion of Christmas tree chic.
I may be forced to cancel.
He has even put his god-awful school decorations at the front, IN FULL VIEW. I have had to tape my arms to my side to prevent me from snatching them off because I know that he will be monitoring my movements, staging a round-the-clock surveillance operation with that spy kit I bought him last year. If I could just take off that tacky over-sized glittered pine cone that he ruined in Year 1 and the ugly Disney cracker he ruined my dining table creating in Year 5.
I might have to set my alarm for 2am.
Anyone feel the same protective instinct for their Christmas tree?