Shayna Gehl is a stay-at-home mother of two. She holds a Bachelor’s Degree in Psychology and a Master’s Degree in Education, School Counseling. Between degrees, she worked and lived in Osaka, Japan for two years. After receiving her M.Ed., Shayna worked as a mental health counselor for two years before moving to New York City with her husband, where they currently reside. Since moving to the city, Shayna has worked for Alethea Cheng-Fitzpatrick of Nesting NYC and Photosanity. Shayna currently writes for the Daily National in the Life & Style section. Should she find herself with free time, if she hasn’t fallen asleep, Shayna enjoys photography and writing. You can follow her on Twitter @dishevldparent, on her personal blog, or on Pinterest.
Our first year living in the city, dear hubby was seriously distraught over the fact that we didn’t get a real tree. He is a true Christmas enthusiast and grew up with big family parties, great feasts, and real trees. The tree in particular was a tradition my husband was determined to continue. Our first year in New York, we managed to land a beautiful imitation tree but nothing measured up to hubby’s standards if it wasn’t real. The cats, on the other hand, were thrilled with the imitation. Athletic, agile cat literally scaled the tree every night managing to get stuck, occasionally cry, and then rip down the lights when she finally broke free, while our other well-endowed male main coon sat at the bottom staking out a spot to ambush skinny cat when she fell.
Fast forward to our second winter in the city. Christmas was close and hubby’s job had distracted him from his goal of getting a tree by December 1st. Now two weeks away from Christmas, realization and panic set in. It was a Sunday night and only hours before bedtime for the tot. Hubby made the game call. Now or never. I couldn’t deny him his dream. (Other men have worse.) Out we went.
The previous year had prepared me for the fact that we would have a real tree from that moment on. Never mind that we didn’t have a vehicle to transport dream tree home, or that we had a pre-toddler and my pregnant belly bumming along on the adventure. Hubby was determined to get our dream tree for Christmas. His image of this experience was very much in line with what many people see on TV – the children bonding with dad as they decide on the tree, slowly and gaily taking their time on a mild, snow-covered eve. Then the special moment of picking “the one”, excitement building as dream tree is magically tied to the car and headed home on a picturesque drive in the most breathtaking valleys. Then the shot of the gorgeous perfectly decorated tree in the living room (straight out of Pier 1). Done and done. Everyone is drinking hot chocolate. Everyone is merry. Everyone has Christmas sweaters on (but not the kind you put in the “ugly sweater” contests). I love those images.
Our experience strayed from that image a bit. We ended up walking about 15 blocks from our apartment to a tree lot. Luckily, this was our cutoff point because of distance to our place. We figured 15 blocks was still doable. Since I was 5 months pregnant with our second (pushing our first in the stroller), I couldn’t carry much. We stood staring at the tree in question. Can we do it? Well, basically, can hubby singlehandedly?
Telling my hubby we couldn’t get the full-sized tree he wanted is like telling our kids there is no Santa. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. (I don’t think I will ever break the Santa news, either.) We debated leaning the tree on the stroller carrying our 1 and a half year old, but decided against it when we noticed him almost falling out the side to avoid the needles. Didn’t look great. So we tried carrying it wedging the tip between my pregnant belly and arm while I pushed the stroller with the other. Hubby had the trunk and bulk of the remaining tree. Both of us sweating and toddler getting antsy, we stop to regroup. It’s cold and dark now. Hubby gets a look on his face. The kind of look your child typically has seconds before saying “look mom, no hands”. He quickly hoists the tree on his shoulder, slowly turns around full circle, and starts sprinting home. It took everything in my power to keep a straight face when hubby stopped about 6 strides later to set the tree down and take a break. This charade carried on the entire 15 blocks home. Hubby lifting the tree, running until he couldn’t run any longer, then stopping just before it looked like he would drop the tree, anyway. I was waddling behind him, trying not to laugh – not because of his sad method (as humorous as it was), but because of the look of satisfaction, exhaustion, and excitement all in one.
When we finally got dream tree home, my hubby quickly got to work setting it up in the stand while our toddler happily buzzed around ‘Operation Dream Tree’ naked. Tot had a look that was very familiar to me. He looked just like his father. He was eating up every minute of this newly minted holiday tradition before even turning two. That’s when it dawned on me. The holidays are so much more than presents, great food, family, and celebration. They are the memories you make with them and that is exactly what we were doing. This Christmas is already looking to be pretty merry.
