Jew Tree

It all started when Jay asked if I'd like to get a Christmas tree this year. We usually spend Christmas with my family in California, but with Fred due on the 27th we were stuck in New York. I felt lonely already, and the trees smelled so good that despite my laziness and total lack of Christmas spirit, I said yes, I wanted one.

Jay seemed surprised by my answer. He started backpedaling.

Jay: If you really want one, we can get something small. But no Baby Jesus.

Me: (laughing) Who puts Baby Jesus on a tree?

Jay: I grew up in Texas. I've seen them.

Me: You've spent Christmas with my family how many times? Have you ever seen a Baby Jesus on our tree?

Jay thought this over, and realized that he hadn't been as vigilante as he should've. I saw it in his face - he couldn't recall any specific Baby Jesuses, but that doesn't mean they weren't there, hidden from plain site. Maybe he thought of those naked chubby angel ornaments that we hang on the tree...could they be Baby Jesuses in disguise?

The conversation went on and on, and I finally realized that this was no joke, my husband felt threatened by the idea of a Christmas tree in our home. My desire to stop arguing about Baby Jesuses finally outweighed my desire for a Christmas tree. I said forget it, no tree.

But I couldn't forget it. Days passed, and Christmas trees were everywhere. They smelled amazing. Having that smell in our home, that familiarity, I thought it would help me miss my family a little bit less. I was insanely pregnant and hormonal. Why couldn't Jay just suck it up?

I started thinking about what a wonderful and tolerant wife I am, sending our son to Chabad preschool where he is taught by women who wear wigs to pray before eating his snack, and we are constantly badgered to donate money for a community Mikvah. And my husband can't deal with a freaking tree?!

Which is how we ended up buying a 7 foot Christmas tree. As soon as it was secured in the stand, we topped it with a very large wooden Star of David. Why we own such a large Star of David is a whole different story, and after I mounted it I felt Jay relax a bit. Though he did shoot me a very dirty look when Roan starting talking excitedly about decorating the "Tis-Mis Tee."

Me: "What are we supposed to call it?"

Jay just shook his head.

Over the past few weeks I think Jay has warmed up to it. We decorated it with lights, strung popcorn and painted painted pasta chains, and even converted some of Roan's trains and cars into ornaments.





At night Jay turns on the lights and we sit on the couch and admire it. Well, I admire it while Jay watches TV.

There must have been some kind of Christmas slippery slope at work, because a week or two after the tree, Jay suggested we take Ro by our local coffee shop to meet Santa. Here he is, one of the only kids who consented to go anywhere near Santa (aka Josh from Southside, a good Jewish boy who wore a kippah underneath his Santa hat). We had to explain how the whole Santa thing worked, and Roan caught on quickly. He told Santa several times that he wanted trains and tracks.

For balance, here's our bicycle menorah on the last night of Channukah, full of candles:



Happy Holidays and Happy New Year!