We have a saying in our family, one that was gleaned from a snippet of conversation from a Simpsons episode. In an effort to become closer to Bart, Marge begins to play an online game that Bart and his friends like. Of course, she over-mothers Bart, even in the game. She turns Bart's "EverQuest"-like cottage into a small girl's dream with pink curtains and Hello Kitty decorations everywhere the eye can see. Bart complains to Marge that his game (and his life) were just fine until she went and "mommed all over it."
I pulled a Marge this weekend. While Offspring was at Girl Scout camp, I took the opportunity to do a great deal of her Christmas shopping. I stayed up late Saturday night, wrapping the presents, and putting them under the tree. As I bent over to place one of the last few packages under the tree, I heard an ominous "crrraaaaack!" The tree tipped over, poking me, hard, in several places on the way down. (We have an artificial tree. We got the fake one after the year when the cat tried playing in the tree and a toddler Offspring attempted to climb it, and we've had a fake tree ever since.) That wire isn't exactly soft, you know.
So, I'm yelling for help, and pissed off as all get-out that I've mommed all over the tree. All my precious ornaments that I've collected over the years....the mess... JF comes running to help, and we discover that the stand of the tree is cracked into an un-salvageable mess. As it's late, there's nothing to do but lean the tree in the corner until the morning. We clean up the mess, and I throw away the one (miracle of miracles, only ONE!) broken ornament, and finish the wrapping.
On Sunday, I keep a lookout for a new tree, but they're all pretty tacky. I was mainly focused on gift shopping, not tree shopping. When I arrive home, JF has good news -- his mother has given us her artificial tree! She no longer has any use for it since she can't maneuver well enough on her own, and has given it to us. It's smaller than our old tree, but I'm just grateful that we don't have to lean the tree in the corner anymore.
JF insists that the now-broken tree was older than them thar hills, and that I did not break it, but if coincidence is running that high, I'd better hie my happy behind out to the local Qwik-E-Mart for a lottery ticket.
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