Christmas Traditions at the McDonalds' House

Every year, the children fuss because the Church doesn’t decorate or sing carols until Christmas Eve.  I tell them they can get as Christmassy as they want at home the Sunday after Thanksgiving. (I used to tell them that the Advent Police check churches, but Betsey asked Kate if it was true.)  But every Sunday in Advent on the way home from church, they complain.  I kind of agree, so it doesn’t get on my nerves.  I even join in.  Ed asks me why I encourage them, and I say that it makes them appreciate the fact that the Episcopal Church allows disagreement.

 The first step is getting out the Christmas tea towels and mugs.  Then we change the message on our voicemail.  It’s just “Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from the McDonalds.  Please leave a message.”  The children take turns each year.  I used to be more creative (“Now joyous Christmastide is here/The halls are decked with red and green/We hope you find a lot of Christmas cheer/And that you’ll leave message on our machine.”), but I decided that was too cutesy even for me.

We put the tree up about two weeks before Christmas.  Ed takes the kids to go out to buy it and I stay home to make cocoa and bake cookies.  The children come home all excited, sucking on the candy canes the tree place gives out, which they never finish.  We haven’t gotten The Elf on the Shelf yet, but we have The Half-Eaten Candy Canes All Over the House.  After we get the tree in the stand, Ed has a drink.  I tell the kids we can’t start decorating right away because the tree has to “settle.” 

This year, one of Betsey’s friends told her that cutting down trees was bad for the environment.  So Betsey suggested that we get an artificial tree.  Josh said, “No way, Jose.” Cilla added, “Like Hell, Emmanuel.”  Betsey said that when trees were cut down the birds and animals lost their homes and even died.  Cilla said Betsey just wanted to spoil things for everybody.  Betsey said Cilla was a selfish moron and didn’t care about animals or the planet or anyone but herself.  Cilla asked Betsey what she thought Jesus would say if he heard her talking to her sister like that.   Then things got really ugly.  Josh just listened;  I’d like to say that he was horrified, but he was amused.  Nigel took off for the cellar. Duke started joining in the shouting.  Ed was in the bathroom.

I prefer to let the kids work out their disagreements, but things were getting out of hand.  “That’s it!”  I shouted.  “We are not having any goddamn artificial tree in this house!  Ever!  Now everybody shut up!”

The girls were so shocked that they stopped yelling.  Josh remarked that all he had said was “No way, Jose.”  Betsey ran up the stairs, nearly knocking Ed over.  Cilla looked like she couldn’t decide whether to cry or not.

Ed said, “What the f . . .heck is going on?”  After Cilla and Josh had filled him in and Cilla said, “We’re going to get a real tree, right?”  Ed explained that if everybody stopped buying real trees, the tree farmers would stop planting them, which would hurt the environment, and anyway, the factories that made the artificial trees were really worse for the environment than cutting down trees. 

I told him to go talk to Betsey.  It would sound more logical coming from him.  I gave Cilla and Josh some cookies.  I thought they would run off, since they had won, but they sat very quietly in the kitchen, only asking for milk.  I think they were afraid of what I would do next.  I told them I was sorry for yelling.  “That’s okay, Mom.”  Josh patted me on the shoulder.  “Everybody makes mistakes.”

There seemed to be something wrong with this picture, but I couldn’t figure out exactly what.  Where is Dr. Phil when we need him?

In the end, everybody made up and they came back with an enormous tree.  We had to make paper chains for filler and the girls cut out stars from aluminum foil, which I’d done as child.  And, of course, it was the prettiest tree we’d ever had.