Christmas decorating a bit different with men in the house


Decorating the Christmas tree with three little girls was delightful some three or more decades ago.

As I remember, the girls, with Christmas music playing in the background, carefully picked out their own ornaments and hung them carefully on the tree, laughing and giggling while recalling each one’s history. After breathless gazing at the beautifully decorated tree for a few moments, I brought out the individual ice cream delicacies designed like trees, bells and angels. What a wonderful evening full of love, joy and peace on Earth, goodwill to all.

I must admit that memories such as these often are enhanced as one ages but no doubt, in this case, all is true and probably even better than I remember.

Our oldest daughter, the mother of our three grandsons, tells us her memories of decorating are similar to mine but her current reality is different.

When asking her guys for the second time to go downstairs and bring up the five boxes of ornaments, the following took place:

Oldest son laying on the sofa playing Words with Friends on his phone: “Already checked. They aren’t there.”

Youngest son: “Mom, could they be in your room?”

Mom: “No, I’m pretty sure I would know if there were five boxes of ornaments in our bedroom. Look again.”

Oldest son gets up off the couch, goes downstairs and comes back up with one box.

Mom: “Where are the rest?”

Oldest son : “Don’t know.” He lays back down on the sofa.

Middle son comes upstairs with the remaining four boxes.

Oldest son: “Let’s just hang 10 ornaments for each one of us. Then the tree won’t be so crowded and we can see everything better.”

Middle son: “Sounds like a plan. When are we going gaming at Pat’s?”

Mom watches as her offspring randomly grab 10 ornaments and put them on the tree, not necessarily their own ornaments that were carefully returned to each individual box last Christmas. Her vision of a beautiful, balanced Christmas tree isn’t happening.

Youngest son: “I think I accidentally put on 11 ornaments. Dad when can I get my hair cut?”

She turns to her husband for support. He is on the phone trying to get a lower car insurance rate. When she turns back to the tree, the guys are gone and the tree topper is a rubber mask leftover from Halloween.

She lets out a big sigh and takes two aspirin. It won’t be any better in the morning.


Joyce Ore

Joyce Ore writes delightful stories about life with a dose of humor and sprinkle of nostalgia. Her column appears Saturday in the Tribune.

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