Ornament Detox
I had to take drastic measures to control the stress of Christmas, even if it meant giving up one of my favorite traditions — for this year only. – this story can be found in Lagniappe News.
I’m feeling out of sorts this Christmas season. It’s not because I started December off with a violent bout of food poisoning, or my college team was scorched out of the playoff, or that my dog died, all within the same week, but I’ve got the “mully grubs” as my mother would say because for the first time ever, I’ve decided not to decorate a Christmas tree.
In no way do I mind watering the tree every day or the constant flutter of needles. I’m such an irritating optimist; I liked vacuuming them up, thinking about how they made the room smell fresh and piney – “fa-la-la – thank you, God, for Evergreens and Shark vacuum cleaners!”
When it came right down to the elf truth, I realized the tree didn’t stress me out, but the 200 ornaments did. I’m a tad bit ornament-obsessed. I was tired of being overwhelmed and stressed at the happiest time of the year.
I don’t subscribe to having a generic tree in my house that could belong to any old family. Each ornament on my tree tells a story. A baby’s silver rattle, a trolley from San Francisco, Flags over the Twin Towers, The Holy Family from Naples, a pressed flower from a wedding, and a reindeer from grandmother. Each is a story. Each is treasured. Each is 10 minutes of unwrapping, climbing, wiring it to the branch, and then packing it all away again.
The artificial tree in the foyer doesn’t count. Instead of fresh spruce, it has the earthy scent of my attic. It’s adorned with lights only. Warm white like heaven’s stars, because seriously — what variety of “wild” would I be with multi-colored lights? I said “no” to ornaments on the fake tree as well. I went cold turkey. This basic faux tree is for atmosphere only.
By choice, the main niche in the living room for the live tree remains eerily vacant. The soulless spot scrapes my heart like a cheese grater every time I walk past.
I’ll admit to taking shortcuts on various aspects of entertaining, but for some reason, my ornaments are all-consuming and must be perfect. In addition to the ornaments, the tiny hidden vases with fresh roses tucked inside needed constant upkeep and if the tinsel billowed in the air flow, it had to be immediately adjusted. Sometimes, it’s great pressure being me.
No one is allowed to help me, because it’s my reindeer game, and “helpers” do things like hang two same-colored polar bears together. The nerve!
I released a Christmas book last year (not a shameless plug, just a fact, Jack), not realizing that the high time of marketing would fall at . . . Christmas. It’s hard work, but Christmas book signings on Groundhog Day seemed a bit tardy.
Knowing that Christmastime would be busy, I found myself dreading my most beloved task. “I just can’t do it,” I told my husband. “Then don’t,” he said. He may as well have cursed at me. I clutched my pearls and gasped. “Are you out of your mind? What will the children say?” He laughed and said, “They’re boys; they won’t care.” The dagger of truth sliced straight through my elfin heart.
So, I decked the halls with other things like the ceramic Christmas tree Mrs. Cooper helped me make in the Church basement when I was in the 3rd grade. I hung the stockings, decked the mantle and front door, and was D-O-N-E. This is what the generation of women ahead of me must have felt like when they burned their brassieres—total freedom. Hear me roar.
Then I spent $82.59 on fresh fir-scented candles.
So far, the season has been mostly stress-free, and I’ve had time for book signings, caroling, and my annual Scorching of the Chex Mix.
Yes, things have been more manageable this year without the self-induced stress of perfectionism, but I miss the stories. I miss the shimmering reminders of adventures, friends, celebrations, and family no longer with us. My Christmas trees are scrapbooks of holidays past and present. And thank goodness I raised them right because one of my sons was heartbroken, and the other seemed confused. I’ll make it up to them next year. Rockefeller Center has nothing on a Southern woman with 15 boxes of family ornaments. Perhaps I’ll lighten the load in 2024 by eliminating the traditional 300 hand-decorated cookies. Life is indeed a delicate balance. And the true joy of Christmas doesn’t need 257 ornaments.
LA!
I am horrified! (But happy for you!) And I laughed because Bob is right… They’re boys. They won’t care! Ha!
Merry (treeless) Christmas!
AA
And Merry Christmas to you too. Bah Humbug on the tree and those boys.
Leslie Anne, I cut back on all my vignettes, choosing to not be tempted by opening the plastic tubs and then getting all teary-eyed! One of my most precious churches in my collection was not even opened. Our only child, a son, did not even miss it! Merry Christmas!
Oh Pam, I know your pain – but how nice we can balance it all. I’ve never had the villages and vignettes, but understand how addictive it could be. They are so pretty! – Oh, those sons!
Wishing you and your family a very Merry Christmas!
PS Thank you for the link to the Giving story. Should be required reading for all parents and parents to be.
Thanks Robin, and Merry Christmas to you as well. If we could all only give with the heart of a child – pure and selfless. https://leslieannetarabella.com/a-lesson-in-giving/
Sometimes, the weight of tradition can feel overwhelming, especially during the holiday rush. I’ve had moments where simplifying felt like a breath of fresh air amidst the chaos. Your courage to skip the ornaments this year is inspiring. It’s a reminder that the heart of Christmas isn’t solely wrapped in decorations. Wishing you a peaceful and joy-filled holiday season, adorned with the priceless treasures of family and cherished memories.
Veronica Lee @ https://ofmiceandramen.blogspot.com
It has been enlightening, and although I’ll most definitely put the tree up next year, this exercise has taught me that I don’t have to do 100% of everything. Anyone want to cook next year? Thanks Veronica.
I can totally relate to what you have so eloquently stated this season! One year I would totally love to do a destination Christmas! Yes, I say that every year and every year I drag out the bins of decorations and ornaments collected over many many many years!! Happy New year!!!
PS. Love Fairhope. Spent our Anniversary there last year at the Grand.
Thanks for the note Shirley – what is it about our need to fluff and decorate? I think Southern ladies just love a good party for Jesus because we feel so blessed to live in such a warm beautiful place! More glitter! More ribbons! More food! Hope you come back and visit Fairhope again soon, and Happy New Year to you.
Guess what, we didn’t decorate our tree this year either! We always put a large tall tree in a corner in the foyer where it can be seen from many rooms in the house. It has been my children’s and now my grandsons job to hang the ornaments. This year, they were so busy before we knew it it was almost Christmas and no ornaments in sight! My son did put lights on the tree and it looked so pretty we just enjoyed it that way. I do miss the memories the ornaments bring but there is a relief now that we don’t have to undecorate it! There is no reason to waste time doing things we don’t want to do! I am so sorry your December got off on a rough start, loosing a pet is so difficult… and I hope you don’t hate Bama…On to a Happy 2024!
Your undecorated tree makes me feel much better, and yes – the chore of taking it all down isn’t hanging over my head. Clean up should be a breeze this year. Cheers to 2024!
Your tree sounds like mine — I call my Christmas tree my biography, or perhaps autobiography, as I have “written” it by selecting ornaments that have meaning — gifts from friends, things handmade, travel ornaments and more. I can tell you the story of every one. And while I have thematic trees and trees in all rooms in the house (yes, even the bathroom and kitchen), that big tree is the one that tells the story of my life. One day I’ll be downsizing, but I know the things that must come with me — that big-tree box of ornaments!
So glad to know there’s another out there like me! Bless you, my ornament loving friend!