I have a confession to make: we do not have a Christmas tree. In fact, of the nine Christmases my husband and I have been together, we have not once gotten a tree. Every year there is a different reason not to get a tree (we’re moving, we’re going to be out of town, the decorations are in the storage unit across town and I’d rather be baking cookies, etc.).
In the back of my mind I’ve always thought that once we had kids we’d have a tree. Well, it’s baby’s first Christmas, and we didn’t get a tree!
This year’s excuse, besides being incredibly busy and not having a place to put a tree, is that we’re spending the night Christmas Eve at Grandma and Grandpa’s house and they have a tree. In fact, Frances and I drove out into the woods to help them get the tree a week ago. All the presents are already under the tree at their house. So really, it would be duplicitous to have a tree at home too.
When the guilt sets in, I tell myself she’s too young to appreciate it any way. As if she doesn’t have an obsession over lights and wouldn’t stare at them for hours! The one year she can’t walk over to it and pull off all the ornaments, we don’t have a tree!
I think instead of being guilty, I’ll claim that it’s greener to skip the Christmas tree. There’s one more tree still growing in the local forest, or one less tree trucked in from Oregon. Next year, Franci, I promise we’ll have a tree. (Just don’t hold me to it!)
This is my holiday guilt confession, what’s yours? Not engaging in Elf on the Shelf? Not baking any cookies? Not buying everything on their list to Santa? Or maybe you’ve decided to skip the Santa charade all together? Dish!