Hi. I'm in Delaware.

Oh the joy of Christmas! This picture cracks me up. We took it Saturday morning while picking out our Christmas tree at Lowes, so we could remember our first Christmas with Poops. It reminds me of that time in Utah when we were only dating, and he came to visit me just before Christmas and I thought it would be a great idea for us to get a real tree. In fact, if you go to my sister's blog, you'd see that we have both married "fake tree" men. Men who are from "fake tree" families. There is nothing wrong with that. We were fake tree people once too, until one year, my sister and I banded together and begged my parents for fresh pine and we haven't looked back since. For my husband though, it was a work in progress. Right now, he's in a state of acceptance. We have surpassed the stages of denial and anger. (My sister is currently working on hers). The process for us began when we were dating a couple years ago, and I lived in Salt Lake City and he still lived in Florida. We went out to get a real tree because boy didn't I think it would be fun to have my boyfriend in town just before the holidays and we can get our tree and decorate it together while watching It's a Wonderful Life. It can be tradition! Sadly for me, he wasn't nearly as enthusiastic as I was about it, and when we bought the tree at the grocery store because that's the closest place I knew that sold them, it all came to a head. He lugged the big tree out to the Jeep, threw it on the roof, rolled down the windows, and tied the tree to the roof with rope. He was huffing and puffing the whole way, so I kept my silence thinking, 'ok as soon as we get it home he'll see what a nice time we'll have and he'll look back on this as a wonderful beautiful Christmas experience'. Plus I'm compromising, he's watching football instead of the movie. This is ok. Baby steps. Remember, he's not a "real tree" person. So we go to get into the Jeep to go home, and we both try to open the doors when we realize at the same time that he's managed to tie the doors shut. With the windows open. I'm trying desperately not to go into hysterics and I study his face and wait for his reaction, which I know would be either complete anger or maybe he'll force a smile, but it's key for me to not react until I see which way he goes and I know this. Thankfully, he laughs at himself and the whole process of getting our first tree together goes much more smoothly from there. But even now, it's still a challenge. He accepts that I thoroughly need fresh pine even though I'm always tracking needles all over the house and we've already vaccuumed three times since we put the tree up, and still we have to vaccuum again. And he accepts that I am like an elderly woman when it comes to my yearning for tradition. So I may get a picture like the one above when we get the Christmas tree, but I know he's smiling inside. We joke that by the time Poops is old enough to begin understanding and taking part in our traditions, Husband will have gotten all of his "real tree" reservations out of his system and be smiling on the outside too.