Does the trauma of Christmas Cause Suicidal Thoughts in Fraiser Firs?

We have a Christmas tree with a mood imbalance. Kim would suggest that it is more of a physical balance problem, but I put forth the theory that the trauma of being chopped down, shipped, sold, strapped to the roof of an Expedition, being left in the rain for two days, then finally being screwed into a base in a living room may have created more of a mental imbalance. Kim doesn't have much of an imagination.

When we first brought the tree in the house (after the aforementioned two days outside), we brought out the stand used with all our other trees, including one just this big. Did I mention that our tree is over 9 feet tall? And heavy? Really, really heavy? At any rate, we manhandle it through the door and cram the thick trunk into the base and breathe a sigh of relief. Alastair is sitting on our ottoman/coffee table, happily watching Dora's Christmas Spectacular Spectacular (or whatever). Tiiiiiiiiimberrrrrrr! Down falls/dives the tree, hurtling toward the carpet and toward our oblivious three year old. "Alastair!" I scream, trying to stop the tree's descent. The child barely glances up at it and then refocuses on the screen while the tree crashes down next to him on the ottoman. Suicidal perhaps, but at least the tree wasn't bent on murder/suicide. A quick trip to Lowe's later and we're back in business with a much larger tree stand.

The next day, Alastair and I stay home from playgroup (a very rare event) to decorate the tree. This requires the six foot ladder and way more patience than I had anticipated. That afternoon, we take the dog out for a walk. In our absence, our imbalanced tree once again dives for the carpet.

This is a bit of what we returned to. I don't know why I didn't think to photograph the entire tree on the ground surrounded by broken ornaments. Shock, I guess. Here are two of my favorite ornaments that will no longer be gracing the tree...

Bone china wedding people from our wedding. That is Kim's little disembodied head rolling around on the hearth.

Do you think this jolly little fellow has noticed he can't feel his other arm yet? Let's not tell him, ok?

Only one person/being in our house was happy that the tree decided to sing it's swan song while we were out: Boudreaux. He was so glad to be out of the house when it occurred and thus exempt from blame.

Incidentally, the tree is now anchored to the wall with wire. In a stud. No need to add Zoloft to the stand water.

Along the insanity line, we hosted our annual playgroup Christmas party again this year. It was a good deal of fun but I don't remember it being as much work last year. Ah, I didn't have an infant in the house then, did I?

I think we bought a big enough couch. That is twelve kids and room for a few more if they squished.

My buddies. Last year we had kids sleeping in every room of the house while we chatted it up outside with the fire pit. This year we had no takers on the "after party" and I found myself delighted to be going to bed at 10:00 with a belly full of bread pudding and jambalaya. Bliss.