De-Christmasing

Yesterday, My Sweet Baboo and I spent about nine hours turning our house back into pre-Christmas mode. Admittedly he did the bulk of the heavy lifting - literally and figuratively - putting in a solid six hours of undecorating, as well as carrying 10 or 11 festive storage tubs of varying sizes up from the farthest reaches of the basement, and then of course taking them back down. Not that I didn't help -- my three hours included a lot of undecorating too, along with a lot of sentimental musing at the thought of taking everything down. I'm not sure what it is about putting Christmas decorations away that strikes such a chord in me.

When I was a child, all of the focus was on the beginning of the holiday season, centered around the family going to the neighborhood tree farm, Dad with saw in hand, cutting down the perfect tree, and putting up our special hand-made ornaments. How many times I've looked at the patchy glittered cardboard egg-carton bells, or the snowman made out of 'plaster' that I think was mostly salt (who was painted so poorly that he looks like a survivor of a horrible accident), and others that my brothers and I made with love and which my Mom and Dad always displayed proudly on the front of the tree.

The special ornaments that have survived from our childhood are still hung carefully on my Mom's tree (Dad's been gone just shy of two years now), and I enjoy seeing them, even as I cringe as my lack of artistic ability.

At our own house, MSB and I have fairly seamlessly combined our separate (and large) collections of decorations. We put them up over the course of several days - seems like it takes about two weeks of effort, after work and on the weekend, before we have everything up and where we want it. And we don't skimp - decorations go up in the kitchen, back hall, dining room, plantatarium, living room, and foyer, as well as candles in the windows, an outdoor tree, and some red and green spotlights outside around the front porch. When everything's done - the banister wrapped with garland, the two trees with their sparkling white lights, a nice fire in the fireplace, scented votives flickering gently in mercury glass holders, stockings for the cats hung from the mantle, the tall nutcrackers standing at attention on either side of the hearth - it's really warm and homey and 'feels like Christmas'.

And then it's time to take it all down. The decorations that made it out of the tubs, and the new ones are assessed and placed in groups along with the old timers. "Centerpieces and candles", "garland and bows", "cast iron and misc.", "Santas and smalls", "big glass", "plush" - each tub labeled and at the ready. As I put things away, I find myself pulling out the decorations that never left the tubs, the ones that didn't make the cut. Could I have put this ornament on the tree? Could I have put this stocking somewhere? Could the candy cane candles have gone on the sideboard? I spend almost as much time thinking about the ones that didn't get used, and how I had used them last, as I do remembering how much we enjoyed the ones that did.

Maybe it's because Christmas now starts around Columbus Day - cards and decorations and sales in all the stores, neighborhoods lit up well before Thanksgiving, and 24-by-7 Christmas music on the radio practically before anyone has a chance to finish their Halloween candy.

When I was young, the buildup was for the start of the Christmas season, and believe me, it was always December before we got started. For me now, I think I steal a little extra enjoyment out of it at the end, when it comes time to put everything away. I can be sentimental, get a little warm and fuzzy as our special decorations are carefully wrapped and placed in their tubs for another year, and carted off to the basement.

I know I'll find something that we missed, probably next week sometime, and I'm sure it will bring a smile when I do.

Sue