Despite the fact that my fourteen year old daughter never stepped a foot out of the truck to participate in our annual tree hunt this year as it was “way too cold,” she still managed to give us quite a few instructions on the size and shape of the tree we should get. It needed to be tall and narrow, not “bushy.” Living in Northern Nevada, we get pinion pines and finding a tall narrow one can be harder said than done, but we managed. She approved of our find and then asked if she could please be in charge of the Christmas decorations this year. “Really,” I said. “Why?”
“Because last year it looked like Santa puked Christmas all over the house, and this year, I want it to look pretty,” she replied. Hmmm, Santa puke? She followed this with, “Why can’t we have a pretty tree with ornaments that match? Do you have to cover it with all your ‘tree trash’?”
Yep, tree trash. That’s what my kids call the treasured ornaments and decorations that they spent countless hours creating. The tongue depressor reindeer, the glitter and glue angels, the red and green chains to count down the days until Christmas, it has all been reduced to “tree trash,” and much to their dismay, I saved it all. Every single bit of it. They’re my favorite decorations, but apparently their dad and I are the only ones in this family who consider them decorations and not . . . trash.
Which begs the question, what is a holiday decoration? A box of fancy matchy bulbs from a store or a pile of faded construction paper, glitter and glue? My teenagers would choose the former; I’ll take the latter every time, but what are they decorating for? I would say that at fourteen and sixteen, they’re still overly concerned with appearances, and they don’t really want all their friends to see the lovely ornaments they made in preschool despite the fact that most of their friends made the same exact things they did. They’ll figure it out someday.
We spent one evening this week dragging out all the holiday decorations, but a full two-thirds of them went back into the garage as I decided to go ahead and let my daughter be in charge of the decorating. I’ve always thought of myself as something of a minimalist in that I don’t like clutter, but when it came to decorating this season, she put me to shame.
She surveyed every decoration and decided what could come out and what had to stay put. I did insist on most of the handmade ornaments for the tree, but none of the handmade pictures, cards, or large creations made the cut unless they went in my bedroom. She informed me I could decorate my bedroom however I wanted it, and since my husband and I are the only people who like all that stuff anyway we could put it in there with us. “That’s awfully generous of you,” I said. She didn’t answer. Sadly, her brother agreed with her.
I have to say that she did an impressive job, and now I know I have prepared her to handle the Christmas decorating responsibilities as an adult. It was also a good compromise. I have enough tree trash to make me happy, and she doesn’t feel like Santa puked on us . . . though I do miss the reindeer one of them made out of a hanger and pantyhose that I usually hang on the door to the office. I might just have to sneak that one in.