The Battle of the Christmas Trees!

It’s that time of year again. In a couple of weeks it will be Christmas, or as I like to call it ‘The Silly Season”. This is the one time of year when the child in all of us can be released with reckless abandon in the midst of all the plush and splendor associated with the festive season. The centerpiece of any self-respecting household symbolizing the Christmas spirit is that all important Christmas Tree. So when it came to selecting a tree, hubby and I unexpectedly found ourselves at opposite poles of the Christmas decorating spectrum which led to what will be going down in our history as ”The Great Battle of the Christmas Trees!”

It all started two weeks ago, December was looming and everywhere Christmas decorations sprouted in shopping centres, office buildings and neighbouring houses. This seeded the thought that maybe we should start planning how we would transform our humble abode into a Christmas wonderland. During our move, two years ago, our old Christmas tree was lost and perhaps luckily so. It was less than a meter tall (just big enough so as to not be too imposing in our then very small apartment), had serviced us for the last 9 years, had seen many a merry Christmas but unfortunately was also close to dilapidated and due for retirement. As we forage through our Christmas decoration treasure-trove the need for a new tree became apparent and was briefly discussed and we were in agreement, or at least that was what I thought. So when hubby brought home his interpretation of our new "Christmas Tree" I was somewhat mortified.

The following Friday hubby arrived home all excited about the tree he had purchased. The excitement was tangible, that was until he fetched the “tree” from the car and ceremoniously unveiled it on the dining room table. Barely 60cm tall it was a pile of sticks (presumably someone’s garden trimmings) hammered together in the form of a pine tree - dreadfully boring, barren, minimalistic and better suited as kindle for a barbecue fire rather than an opulent festive centrepiece. “What is this?” I confusedly asked, secretly hoping it was a practical joke. Elatedly and self impressed hubby responded “It’s our new Christmas tree, don’t you just LOVE it?” I paused for a moment trying to think of an appropriate diplomatic response, but as the reality that this was no practical joke sank in nothing was forthcoming and eventually I confessed that I absolutely hated it!

Hubby was unperturbed by my negative and somewhat icy reception of his newly discovered treasure. He appeared oddly enchanted by the sticks magical powers that I clearly was immune to and underwhelmed by. Hubby proceeded to dress the tree. Faerie lights, a couple of white and silver ceramic ornaments and our precious Chrystal Angle crowning the tree; he then switched on the lights and basked in self satisfaction. The tree looked like autistic woodpecker had build it while on some psychedelic drugs, then proceeded to poop perfectly shaped white ornaments on it with bits and pieces being periodically illuminated – the perfect place for spiders to nest and/or mites to breed. Looking at the pile of wood lit up it, in my mind, did not say Christmas but rather oozed the lackluster death of and total disregard for Christmas’ true essence and with each flickering of lights I grew more annoyed.  This tree had to go!

Naturally having had to stare at Woody the Drug Addict Woodpecker’s artwork for a whole week, this past Friday I proceeded to search for a proper traditional Christmas tree. I searched high and low and eventually found the perfect one. I always wanted to have a white Christmas tree, I am not really sure why, but I found one and took it home. With child like enthusiasm I set it up and dressed it with all the extravagance and grandeur deserving of the Christmas spirit. An hour later and it was ready and proudly erected and brightly illuminated in our lounge waiting to astonish and mesmerize all who gaze upon it. Then hubby arrived home.

Walking into the lounge he was unmoved by my tree’s magnificence, he grunted and proceeded to lecture me on how times are changing and how being stuck in the 1900’s is not a good thing. Apparently my tree was and is symbolic of an historical nostalgic artifact, a conclave of kitsch and not the festive objet d'art I thought it was. Hubby further shared his observation that my tree looked like the product of an hour long vomit fest by our four cats taking turns spewing glitter all over my brilliantly decorated precious beauty. As his tree tirade drew to an end I confidently said “I don’t care, my tree is still prettier than your pile of sticks!” Hubby turned away in disgust.

We didn’t speak for an hour rather opting to take our disagreement to cyberspace and fought it out of Facebook having our adoring friends play referee. During that hour opinions were shared and at the end most of cyberspace’s support was in my favor (I know hubby would beg to diver, but then he’s not writing this blog post now is he?). Eventually we realized our behavior was silly, infantile and unbecoming off the mature adults that we were supposed to be. Eventually we came to our senses and reached an amicable compromise: We both would keep our trees, not make our friends take sides about which tree is better; I will tone down mine and hubby will dress up his. And last but not least hubby will refrain from referring to his tree as a “Christmas Tree” and will do my utmost to stick to the “Less Is More Rule!” which is something I find almost impossible to do especially during Christmas – sigh...

So now our house has two Christmas trees, one minimalistic and understated and the other grand and generous. I don’t know how many other married couples have their own Christmas Trees or even have fights about them; maybe hubby and I are just a tad unconventional and overly adamant regarding our festive views. But one thing is for certain the silly season have only just begun and we sure are in for one hell of an interesting and jolly old time. Ho ho ho!

Till next time.

Jackie Beat - Santa's Baby