Oh, this is why I blog. Some moments of motherhood you just can’t make up. I always have people ask me how I come up with writing ideas on the blog. Answer? Will, John Paul, Anna-Laura, Clare and Luke.
There is never a shortage people.
Honestly, if I blogged about the whole of our life, you would all block me from your feed readers!
Last Saturday, we ended up trekking to a new Christmas Tree Farm. We’re all still in mourning that our sweet one in Salado closed. I mean, just look at its sweetness!
After some serious internet searching, we finally landed on the Elgin Christmas Tree Farm. Had it not been 20-degrees (hey, stop laughing, that’s co-old for Texans) and windy I’m betting we would’ve really enjoyed all they had to offer. Next year. So, in less than 15 minutes we had our tree chosen, netted and affixed to the top of the minivan and we were headed to Southside Market for a little BBQ. We also forgot to bring the camera. So, you get Instagram folks. Welcome to 2013.
We made it home, the boys got the tree set up and while they were off doing other Christmas projects, I got the lights and tree skirt added while the girls added the ornaments – all while listening to a little Christmas Pandora.
I glanced at the clock and realized that Will need to be at Mass, like pronto. He was an altar server and they’re required to be there early. Scott loaded him in the car, while I grabbed something out of the kitchen. Just as I was headed around the corner to my room to change, I hear a whoosh and then a crash. Anna-Laura and I heard it at the same time and ran to the front living room.
As in a fully decorated and watered live tree, now flat and leaking water, glass and glitter ALL OVER THE LIVING ROOM FLOOR.
I screamed, “Anna-Laura, go catch Dad before he leaves.” She ran to the garage, I ran to the front door. Only to see Scott happily zooming off to Mass. Even though he would arrive back in less than 10 minutes, I knew we had to do something.
After a quick assessment, instinct kicked in. Either that, or the baby kicked. Not sure which. I grabbed that big a$$ tree, hoisted it back up to standing and a flood of water soaked my shoes.
“Anna-Laura! John Paul! Go get the towels!” I barked.
“Clare, go get the phone. Call Dad!” I yelled.
“Luke, you head to timeout my friend,” I scolded.
And then it hit me. As I rounded that corner and saw the tree sprawled all over the floor, my eyes (and brain) registered that Luke was the culprit, but he was standing a safe 10-feet away. Thank you, Luke’s Guardian Angel. You moved him at just the right moment. Having that tree land on Luke would’ve been catastrophic. And my heart softened. That still didn’t earn him a spot out of timeout, but it did make me say a prayer of thanksgiving.
Back to the crazy.
I reached Scott’s cell phone via Will and they both informed me he was headed straight back after dropping Will of at church. Scott told me later that when he let Will out of the car, he looked back over his shoulder as he jogged in the front door and yelled, “Good luck, Dad!”
When Scott walked in the door, we were quite the circus. There was a five-month pregnant mom holding up a ten-foot tree, standing in water and towels while the kids clamored around to tell him all the details. There was a tense 30-seconds in there while Scott was under the tree trying to get the base secured and I was “moving the tree too much,” but it passed, we kissed and the tree is nice and sturdy now. Pinky swear.
We made it to Mass with five minutes left in the homily. A new personal worst. And, I’m pretty sure I still had sap all over my hands and arms. It wasn’t my best week of dressing for Mass, but we were there. No judging.
Moral of the story? If your tree falls down, write it on the blog so you can laugh about it later.