The Tree Incident – Guest Blop

Its Christmas…and as we know this brings some awesomeness and some stress.  My friend Kerrie shared this story with the group at a recent Mandala Workshop.  I asked her if she would share it as a blop…here it is…thanks Kez it cracked me up.  A special congrats on being the second guest blopper .

Lets remember guys – Don’t get your Tinsel in a Tangle!

I am sure that I am not alone when I relay to you, the absolute HELL of allowing my cherubs to decorate the tree. My tree. The testament to my OCD. The glorious, amazing work of art that I usually spend hours working on, to ensure that every bauble is just so. That every branch is evenly spaced and splayed out. That every strand of tinsel is placed precisely the correct space apart from the next. And that everything is color-coordinated. That every light is exactly where it should be.

Not so this year.
After many years of owning that job, I reluctantly allowed my two boys to “help” last year, by giving them a box of baubles (not the “good ones” – the sentimental, precious ones), to evenly space out over the tree. They seemed to manage fairly well with the need for only a few tweaks to make Mummy happy. They also had had enough of the process after placing about 40 of them on the tree. Great – I thought.

Not so this year.
This year, the husband decides that he and the boys would assemble the tree and decorate it with the basic baubles before I finished it off with the “good ones”.
Now let me start by saying that although I do suffer from anxiety and have OCD (yes, I’m diagnosed), it is not what I would call severe. Years ago – absolutely, but hey, time and medication go a long way.
I nervously handed over the reins to my husband while I went and had a shower. When I walked out into the living area, I almost screamed. I wanted to ask if anyone had been hurt in the tinsel factory explosion that had obviously occurred in the 10 minutes that I was gone.

There before me, on one side only of the tree, was approximately 10kgs of silver tinsel. Not only that, but it wasn’t aligned in the traditional round-the-tree configuration; they had tried to cover every possible trajectory.

They all sensed my angst (I guess my jaw on the floor and eyes like saucers kind of gave it away), and almost in unison, they quipped “don’t stress Mum, it’s all a bit of fun”.
I had to vacate the room to allow them to finish their masterpiece. Every fibre of my being was cringing, aching to get in and “correct” it and to do it “properly”. It took all of my strength to let this go until they went to bed. Yay! I thought.
Then – the husband emerges from the bedroom and takes photos of their creation from every angle and instructs me, no – demands, that I not change one single thing between now and when they get home tomorrow. Yeah right!!!

To my credit, I only changed one or two pieces of tinsel and feverishly took off the baubles that had been lavishly adorned on the branches…. not just one bauble per branch – but two or three per branch!!!! Oh and not forgetting the fact that they had (deliberately) placed the largest baubles at the top of the tree and the itty-bitty ones at the bottom! Argh!!!! “It’s all wrong!!!”

Although I made some alterations, they didn’t seem to notice that much the next day.
Over the period of the next couple of days, I gradually, discretely changed a decoration, here and there and eventually it was done.

It wasn’t until a few days later that I also noticed that they had (deliberately, it turns out!) swapped the second-bottom row of branches with the third-top row. So now we have a misshapen tree to boot! Shoot me now!

I am learning to live with it but it has been an absolute test of strength as far as my OCD goes. (I have a friend who spent 5 hours re-doing her tree last year after her family adorned it. I totally feel her pain!)

Merry to you all…



  1. Great story, how often is it that our (as in mothers) times of living hell are also our children’s most endearing and enduring fond memories. Well done on “allowing” the creation of a cherished family memory. Ho ho ho ha ha ha


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