It's never REALLY about the tree, is it...

Never mind the glut of holiday commercials advertising new luxury cars with giant bows on top, extravagant cruises to far-off destinations, and for cryin’ out loud, of ALL things…engagement rings?  (Any of which I would love to have but of course CAN’T).   This Christmas, I am mourning the demise of the tree shopping experience.

Christmas tree shopping was never really a HUGE deal when I was growing up.  I promise we didn’t embark on a long, festive drive to the country to walk around forever in a snowy field selecting and sawing down ‘just the right tree’.  Yet it was still an event.  A “hey, we’re going to get the tree on ___day” event.  We brought it home and put Christmas music or Christmas movies on, made eggnog and hot chocolate to decorate the tree to, and signed our names to the Christmas cards.  It was a happy day that marked the tangible, true beginning of Christmas in our home.

Maybe I was adrift in confusion, stress, horror, fright, or some other “new Trifecta holiday feeling” and I barely noticed in years prior?   I do recall some discomfort about that part of the affair, but it was overshadowed by other, more pressing issues, and was quickly forgotten.

Red inexplicably avoids Christmas Tree shopping, and instead lets the giggly, happy girls handle the task (we have fun, but would always rather have him with us, and are concerned about his melancholy).  When I first noticed there was a problem, I asked him about it.  Missy has probably understood the issue for years, and has accepted that he simply does not enjoy tree shopping.  I find a LOT of his behavior confusing, but once he explains why he’s acting a particular way, my grumbling usually stops and I find compassion.   He has said that Christmas tree shopping was a big deal when he was married to his first wife.  Granted.  Once it was explained to me in those terms, I thought I understood.  A special thing can be tainted by an angry ex, or by special memories once shared and now gone.   But this is the Trifecta’s third Christmas together.  I thought we could’ve invented our own version of the experience – our own rendition of events that were special, meaningful and memorable to the three of us.  The holidays are loaded so heavily with family, emotion, and tradition (which we have successfully handled, so far), that I was SURE this would be the year to reinvent the tree hunting experience.

Not so much.

Missy had to work in the afternoon, so we spent a blissful, lazy morning making breakfast, enjoying music, television, and the company of our favorite people.  After Missy went to work, I (eventually) insisted on heading out and purchasing the tree, even though I knew it was not Red’s favorite thing.  I told him I wanted to do it to make Missy’s life easier (she had expressed how nice it would be for us to get it done since she had no time).  I knew Red didn’t enjoy it, and in complete sincerity (I SWEAR), I offered to go alone to get the tree.  He wanted to be sweet to me though, and said he would come along.

When I asked why he seemed so sad, when I just wanted to keep Missy from having to waste HER time completing this task, he became tearful and talked about how sad this time of year is because he misses his kids so much.  I tried to understand.  I offered again to go alone, and said it wouldn’t hurt my feelings (I was telling the truth), but he insisted we were “gonna do this thing.”   I promised we would be in an out…no messing around.

We were shopping for a tree in the family-owned lot that Missy loves, when I glanced to the parking lot, only to see Red’s oldest daughter and her mother (along with some other relatives) emerging from a vehicle – completely unexpectedly, of course.  I quickly got Red’s attention and alerted him – after all…how awkward would it be for not only his daughter, but his ex and her family to see us there without Missy, or any OTHER family member?  His ex had noted in the past to one of the girls how strange it was that I was always “hanging around.”  He turned green and ran.  I went pale, considered that if they saw me, I’d claim I was there with my daughter and “have you seen her?”  I hid from view, then I ran also.  We kept running (well, ok, driving) directly to Home Depot and bought a tree never unwrapped or cut or tied onto a vehicle – just shoved unceremoniously into the back…and then ran back home.  Nauseated.  The evening was ruined.  No wonder the poor guy has Christmas Tree PTSD.

In near silence, we deposited the tree in the stand (in a rudimentary fashion), vacuumed from the carpet the 40 pounds of needles that had been trapped in the bundled tree, and tried unsuccessfully to move on.

Days later…it is Wednesday - the Red/Missy/Kids day.  They are at their house decorating the tree and I am at my place being endlessly barraged with tender Christmas specials and movies that cable television provides (i.e. imposes on) us each year, and not even WANTING to be there for whatever moody awkwardness my presence might create.  

This emphasizes a recurring “3^rd person in the Trifecta” problem (pack your bags, we’re going on a tangent…)

Do they have room for MY rituals and preferences and, well, needs?  They have been a family for some amount of time and have their routines established.  They like bright rooms, I like dark-cavy ones, they like to eat late, I like to eat early, they are morning people, I’m not…    I have always believed that an individual should be allowed to genuinely be who they are without feeling pressure to change for somebody else.  Now I am with two people.  People who deserve to be themselves (no pressure to change) as individuals and as a couple.  Pre-Trifecta, those times I was with one person, it made sense that over time, due to compromise, our traditions merged into one, made up of bits and pieces from each of our histories.  What we are doing is more complicated.  I worry my needs might fall by the wayside (my voice is only 1/3 of the choir).  I worry that there isn’t room for all of our needs to be met, I worry I’m being too demanding.

 

Wait...who is in charge here?!   

 

 

 

 

Maybe it’s my insecurity as the newcomer that makes me ask all of these questions that never seem to have answers.  They try so hard to make sure I feel like an equal, and feel fully loved, heard, and understood.  Why am I so confused all the time?

It’s never REALLY about the tree, is it.

Hey diddle diddle, who's in the middle??

Every couple has probably encountered the issue of who more easily gets overheated at night, who has icy feet, hogs the covers, snores, thrashes, talks in their sleep, etc.

Now add another human to the mattress.

In addition to the usual, you have to figure out who's going to be in the middle. Now, in general, I love the middle, and early on I always wanted to be there. But so did Red, and this led to more than one harrumphy moment. Chloe tends to get uncomfortably hot, so wants to be able to throw a leg out from under the covers. I tend to feel chilly, so I want to cocoon up. Red likes three pillows, one to put on top of his head (HOW does he not feel SUFFOCATED?!), while I like one firm or two smushy. That means if there's a rotation of person-positions overnight, there might also need to be a pillow-shuffle. Come morning, only one of us actually knows how to turn off the alarm clock over on the left-hand side (don't get me started). And finally, I am by far the lightest sleeper. So if either of the other two snores, or thrashes, or has imaginary conversations (Chloe is so CUTE when she does that), or forgets to turn their phone all the way silent, I get waked up and might not fall back asleep easily. You can see how this would be a giant pain.

So.

After a year of overcrowding, we upgraded from a queen size bed to a California King. This did help, but still the Middle Kingdom is contested. By default it belongs to Red; he likes it there, and he's the soundest sleeper, and doesn't tend to get overheated. But if he goes spoony, it has to be toward either one girl or the other, and the remaining girl might feel left out. Plus I like the super-snuggled sensation, so if it's a night when I don't have to get up early the next morning, I'll lobby for that. (Or scooch over and steal it when he gets up for a moment.) Every so often Chloe winds up there, and sometimes I get surprised when it's her soft skin I reach over and find next to me.

I suspect this will be an ongoing issue for the Trifecta. Gotta say: it's a good problem to have. Means we're all in one place, which is the happiest place on earth.