On the Twelfth Day of Christmas...

The Christmas tree is mocking me.

I have kept it alive for almost a full 30 days. A record in this house, where we are short on space and full of small hands just looking to touch things that hang from trees.

I will say it was our best tree ever. It fit perfectly and even though I had to improvise on the hanging of the lights, it turned out looking great.

But it is January, and today is a snow day and there is no excuse as to why it is still standing there fully decorated.

I think it knows what a pain in the ass it is this time of year.

I think it knows that just like the decorating, I will get strapped with the undecorating and the wrapping of fragile ornaments and the remembering of where I put said ornaments and elves and such.

I am not prepared for the mound of pine needles that will accumulate. I have put up with the random one stuck to the bottom of my bare foot or tucked between my sheets but I just brushed against the tree and the crunch of needles falling to the ground makes me believe this won't be that easy of a cleanup.

I have informed my husband that this tree should be dragged to the end of our driveway where the city will pick it up eventually. It is NOT to just be dragged to the garbage cans, where the city will not pick it up and it will lay there like a big ol' tumbleweed until I finally get so annoyed by it that I throw it, once again, over the fence.

I can kind of see how some people have their tree up until March.

Really though, it is about the Christmas season ending. The anticipation and the excitement of the kids, the preparing, the craziness of it all has come to and end and all I have left is 1,000 new Legos and this hulking tree. Even though the new year is open to endless possibilities, there is always something a little sad about hauling those red and green bins into the attic, pulling the lights off the tree and settling into the winter cold.