Let me tell you about our Sunday. We decided that we should cut our own tree down this year. We have just gone to the lot the last couple years, usually due to me; finally I wasn't pregnant or nursing so we thought "Let's GO!"
A word, first, about cutting down Christmas Trees in Colorado. You would think we had a ton of tree farms. No. Not really any...But. We have the National Forests. They have a great program, that for $10 a tree you can come to the parks and cut your tree down. So that is what we were planning.
This Sunday was beautiful, with relatively new snow. And frigid...I mean frigid. I have become such a wuss since I moved here. But it was cold. Even 'down here' it was only going to get up to about 20 degrees. We loaded the kids in the Durango (keep in mind it is 10 years old, needs new tires and does NOT come with the convenient babysitter of the DVD player). Off we went. First gas, cause we didn't really plan ahead, then up to Red Feathers. The car ride was uneventful, with the exception of me yelling at Abraham that I was going to make him, at different times, either walk home, throw him in a snow bank, or tie him to the roof of the car because of his behavior towards his sister.
After an hour and a half of sweet Christmas memories (haha), we arrived. Up the forest road we went. Forest road, not paved or even, apparently, grated road. Bounce. Jounce. Tumble around...the kids thought it was great. We finally selected our perfect tree cutting location. We parked. We bundled the kids into snow pants, gloves, hats, boots, coats, ummm is there more? We jimmied ourselves out of the car. The first thing I noticed was the temperature. I felt like I was back in Iowa. In January. You know (well, if you are from here you don't) that nose hair freezing feeling? Yes. Those of you who live in Colorado; your nose hair can actually freeze. You can also spit, and it freezes before it hits the ground. Really.
Anyway, we got out of the car and began to make our way into the trees. Remember, this is not a tree farm. It is a forest. At high altitude. In the winter. There was, literally, snow well past my knees. That doesn't translate well for the girls! We began to tromp through the forest looking for our perfect Christmas tree. Again... 12 degrees. Deep snow. Climbing up the mountain. Oh, and did I mention that it is intermittently snowing? It is. Hard. And that we are in a forest? Where the wind blows from the same direction all the time. At approximately 422 miles per hour...FYI there are no perfect trees when the branches are missing from one whole side of the tree. And they grow in clumps. After searching for our tree, Scarlett was stranded and crying. Ivy was cold and crying. Correction, screaming... the boys were catapulting themselves, repeatedly, into the snow. So much for my prior "snowbank" threat. Josh was looking for the alcohol. Which we neglected to bring. Bummer.
Finally, I just pointed to a tree and said "That one!" Then, under my breath, "I don't freaking care! Just pick a damn tree..." Then we had to pick two small ones for the kids. Could they decide? Of COURSE not. Then we had to drag them back to the car. Then we had to tie them on the car. In the freezing cold. While the girls were screaming. And the boys were picking on the girls. And I lost my sunglasses. Which I eventually found in the hood of my parka. After searching the mountain. And I just shut the car door and pretended that I didn't hear anything:) Great parenting.
Back in the car, back down the forest road. Trail... Path... Whatever. Paid. And back on the road to Loveland. An hour and a half. Now four tired kids, three Christmas trees, two tired parents, and a partridge in a pear tree. Noooo, just thought I would keep the Christmas theme going. We made it home, got the tree up, lit, decorated...and all the kids are still alive. Thriving even. How's that for A Miracle on 34th Street? Or at least A Miracle on Highway 34....
Merry Christmas everyone! And laugh, at least once during the season, until a little bit of pee comes out!
No comments:
Post a Comment