Packing up Christmas: No Spruce Needle Left Behind!

Let's hear it for real Christmas trees! This is one tradition I won't be giving up any time soon. http://diaryofadomesticdiva.com

It’s official. The holidays are over. Bah humbug.

It is so much gloomier without the Christmas lights on in my living room {insert pouty, sad face here.}

A chair sits where the Christmas tree stood just yesterday. My grandmother’s piano is supposed to go there but it hasn’t been shipped here from my dad’s place yet, on account of a shipping company that’s failed to show up TWICE. So maybe it’ll be here by next Christmas.

A couple of tins of holiday baking remain with nary a stale butter tart left.

And it’s not even January 6th yet.

{audible sigh}

I like to think we are traditionalists in some sense, particularly during the holidays. Especially when it comes to the tree. We’re in the ‘real tree’ vs the ‘artificial tree’ camp. I love the look and feel and scent of a real tree. With its eclectic mix of old and new and homemade ornaments adorning its branches, new ones added every year, it’s a beautiful thing, really.

How does so much pretty make so much mess? The ups and downs of having a real Christmas tree. http://diaryofadomesticdiva.com

Secret Santa homemade gift exchange with friends.

Since moving to Ontario, each December we go to the same tree farm, traipse around the mud or snow, carefully comparing, oohing and aahing before selecting and cutting down our tree. Admittedly the trees need to pass the ‘mom test’. I pride myself in choosing the right tree, usually, but this one just looked so gosh-darned pretty that I overlooked the tree type (which apparently was a Spruce) as well as its sharp, allergy-inducing needles, massive shedding ability (this tree was my cat in a former life) and evidently its fullness.

Let's hear it for real Christmas trees! This is one tradition I won't be giving up any time soon. http://diaryofadomesticdiva.com

Nevertheless, our tree traditionally stays up until at least January 6th. In Spanish culture, January 6th is el dia de los reyes magos or Three Kings Day (also the Epiphany). And even though we don’t celebrate the holiday with our kids (though, how fun would that be!) it’s sort of an unwritten rule that the tree stays up till January 6th. Plus, it’s my birthday.

My husband knows that taking down all the decorations bums me out so he usually takes on the task of putting Christmas back into its box while I’m away at work.

That day was yesterday. And it’s not even January 6th yet.

Because this.

How does so much pretty make so much mess? The ups and downs of having a real Christmas tree. http://diaryofadomesticdiva.com and, oh, man, THIS…It’s like a freaking chia carpet!

How does so much pretty make so much mess? The ups and downs of having a real Christmas tree. http://diaryofadomesticdiva.com and then this…

How does so much pretty make so much mess? The ups and downs of having a real Christmas tree. http://diaryofadomesticdiva.com

So, you can see why my husband made the executive decision to take this bad boy down and spend about two hours vacuuming this disaster. (I would have been uttering some unsavoury words in shouty caps if it had been me.) Only one other tree in our time together has ever rivalled this level of shedding ridiculousness and that was about 15 years ago. (Note to self: Step away from the Spruce.) 

You guys! I swear we did ALL the right things. We recut the tree trunk just before putting it in water. We watered it everyday until finally I realized it just wasn’t absorbing any more. In the end, the annoyance factor was outweighing the prettiness in a pretty big way.

Oh, sure, I’ll be bummed for a bit, but it’s nice not to have to shoo the kids away from the-tree-whose-needles-would-fall-if-you-so-much-as-breathed-on-the-branches. Be that as it may, we won’t soon give up this tradition.

About Erica

Erica writes with humour and heart about family, #fit40s and living life in the carpool lane. Part-time banker by day and Netflix-addicted-cake-decorator by night, Erica’s in-between time is spent dreaming up ways to ruin her kids’ lives. Obviously.

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