This may be the last year that we got out to a tree farm and get a real Christmas tree.  Why, some of you might be asking?  Well, as we prepped the space for the new tree, Joel cleaned up all the old cobwebs left by the spiders from last year’s tree.  He was not too happy about it either.  After grumping along, we were ready.  I gathered the boys and all our cold weather gear.  It was raining and about 34 degrees F outside.  I brought knitted hats and holiday hats.  I brought gloves and snow boots and snow pants.  I even brought snacks, water and the little potty in case we had an accident.  I had it all covered, right?

We head up north to the secret tree farm outside of Arlington.  On go the snow pants, the hats, the gloves, the boots, and the coats.  Wait, where are the boys’ coats?  SH*T, I forgot the coats.  How could I forget the coats?  It’s 34 and rainy.  I look at Joel and Malina with a “I so screwed up” face.  Luckily, Malina reminds me of the spare set of emergency clothes we keep in the van.  AND, I had put them in warm sweaters.  So, we double up on tops and pray for the best.

We get 5 to 10 minutes into hunting for a tree when Nicholas yells, “I’ve got to POOP.”  At least I brought a potty with us.  I grab his hand and start heading back to the van.  Nicky stops.  False alarm.  I look at him and say “Are you sure?”  He reassures me he doesn’t have to poop but I keep watching, just in case.  Now, the misty rain is starting to pick up and the boys have found a somewhat thawed mole hill.  Can you guess what happened next?  Yep, they started chucking mud at each other.  Seriously?  I yell, “stop throwing mud – you don’t have your coats on.”  They don’t listen.  Nicholas gets mud all over his face.  Dexter complains he is getting cold.  We stop looking for the perfect tree and find a tree.  Joel wears the Santa hat because he forgot to bring his.  I can’t be in charge of everyone, can I?  (just a side note – I didn’t “forget”.  My hats, both of them, were lost.  And by “lost”, I mean Katie most likely put them away for me, somewhere I’ll be sure to find them just as soon as it gets cold again…)

Everyone takes a turn at cutting down the tree but me.  The boys love this part.  Joel straps down the tree.  After a mile, we pull over and he straps it down better.  As soon as we get home, both boys run to the potties and poop.  We got lucky.  Joel puts up the tree and about a thousand needles fall from it.  The grumping starts again (seriously, there were thousands of dead needles in there, all stuck to the tree – not dead branches, just dead loose needles, and freeway speeds followed by aggressive shaking outside still leaves a few thousand to vacuum up before the first lights ever go on the tree). I get an instant headache.  Seems that I am allergic to Christmas trees now.  A few spiders appear.  Merry Christmas Joel.