Yesterday I discovered that we were dangerously low on plastic sparkly Christmas stuff. How on earth could we celebrate the birth of Our Savior without a plastic toad wearing a Santa hat for our fake tree? We couldn’t y’all, we just couldn’t. So off I went to Wal-Mart in search of Christmas.

If you’ve ever been to a Wal-Mart – and I suspect you have if you are still reading – you’ve probably wondered why on earth they make the Christmas aisles so dang narrow? Are they not aware that their customers are by and large (pun intended) super-sizers? My suspicion is that the guys who man the security cameras are also the ones who set up the aisles and they are just hoping some sort of incident will break out, some sort of electric cart lady-crazed mommy incident. That would make some good YouTube.

And so.

Thursday morning I find myself wearing Wal-Mart athletic wear in the Wal-Mart holiday department. And I know right then that nothing good can come of this.

I make a right turn down the blue/white ornament aisle and I notice that there is a sizeable lady in her electric cart taking up more aisle than would allow me to pass with or without a cart. So I kind of stand there for a minute and attempt to look beyond her to see if I really even want to be in the blue/white row.

I’m pretty sure I don’t want to be in the blue/white row because I’ve been in the blue/white row almost every day this week. I guess I think the stockers put out the good stuff out after I leave. But they don’t. It’s the same blue/white crap stuff that they put out in September, but a fresh supply of blue/white crap stuff. But what I think it demonstrates to y’all is how hopeful I am. I am a person with hope. A person who hopes to discover the mother lode of fresh blue/white sparkly plastic cr stuff that Wal-Mart has been holding out on us.

As I’m standing there looking beyond electric cart lady, I notice that her head looks like a pea perched atop a sack of flour. She can’t turn her head, so she just turns her eyes. She sighs at me and gives me this “Do you mind?” look, as though I were trying to read a newspaper over her shoulder. Apparently I didn’t see the Do Not Disturb sign on the blue/white aisle. I give her my “No problemo!” smile and baby step back out of the aisle. I am in the Christmas spirit. God rest ye merry electric cart ladies!”

No problem is right. There is more stuff from whence the blue/white stuff came just one aisle over. I head for the red/green or hot pink/lime or silver/white or wooden/country aisle because I’m all patient and easy going like that and it’s the holiday season! Somebody get that electric cart lady some figgy pudding!

As I’m standing in the country ornament aisle looking at the fabulous array of tacky beautiful foreign factory made hand-crafted ornaments that have absolutely nothing to do with Christmas, I hear the hum of electric cart lady coming down “my” aisle. She pulls her cart within inches of my knee. And she stares at me. She clears her throat. I look at her expectantly thinking perhaps she wants me to reach something for her. “Can you move? I need to get through,” she says in a voice that sounds eerily like Beevis.

I respond by saying:

a) That thang got a reverse on it?
b) Your point is?
c) You’re not the boss of me.
d) I’d like to see you get off that thing and make me.

Because I fear being featured on YouTube if I get into a fight with an electric cart lady in the Wal-Mart holiday department, I instead say, “Sure. Let me just grab my Santa Toad and I’ll be out of your way. Can I get one for you too?”

It is December 3rd, 2005 in the year of our Lord, and I am kicking off the season that celebrates His birth by standing on the top step of an 8-foot-ladder, where there is a sticker that reads “Only An Idiot Would Stand Here.” And for those idiots who can’t read, this point is illustrated with a picture of a stick man falling to his death. This Norman Rockwell scene is made even more ridiculous by the fact that it’s 80 degrees outside. I am wearing a tank top, shorts and suede flip flops (suede because it’s after Labor Day) and I’m sweating bullets as I try to coax, cajole and contort sparkly wired ribbon into appearing as though it fell effortlessly and naturally from heaven into cascading spirals onto my big fake tree. The thought that I might rather be doing something else, like flossing my teeth with an ornament hanger, crosses my mind. Why oh why do I do this? Because it’s our tradition.

Two years ago, Sean was due on Christmas day he but came six weeks early. Needless to say, after a C-section and then the stress of having a baby in the NICU followed by the marathon sleep deprivation that comes with a newborn in the house, I was in no position/mood/state of consciousness to get on a ladder and put up a tree. My sister-in-law, Terrye, who is the nicest woman on the entire earth, came to my house and put up my tree that year, and it was never more beautiful. There were many nights that first Christmas season that Sean and the dog and I got up for 2am feedings and then snuggled together under the glow of the Christmas tree afterwards. I remember watching him sleep and trying to memorize his face as it looked bathed in Christmas light. I would bend my ear down low and listen to him breathe, amazed at what a miraculous thing that life is. Those are special memories for me. Those are memories I wouldn’t have had if it were not for Terrye putting up my tree.

Last year I was recovering from thyroid cancer but I managed to put up a tree and all the trimmings anyway. Having been surgically relieved of my thyroid, I had the energy (and appearance) of a Three-Toed Sloth, but it seemed important to maintain a sense of normalcy, which in December means doing too much, spending too much, eating too much and putting up a tree. But again, there were many nights last December when Antique Daddy and I just sat in silence on the sofa with a sleeping boy in our arms watching the lights twinkle on the tree. We didn’t have to look much beyond our noses to find blessings to count.

So this year, once again, I am risking my life on a ladder to put up a tree because willful and wanton violation of OSHA standards is our tradition. And I am complaining the whole way because that is part of the tradition too. I know that my little family will make precious Christmas memories in the shadow and light of this tree in the coming days of December that I will store up and treasure in my heart long after the season has passed. And for that I would stand on anything.