Holiday Tradition #1: Tree Hike

This holiday season I've decided to blog about the traditions we have in our family that we are happily passing on to Zoey. Some are traditions we started waaaaay back when we were first dating (10 years ago!), some were put on hold while we were living in Vancouver, and some are new things we're trying out now that we're back home and close to family. 2009, in all it's crappiness, still marks the beginning of that wondrous age of childhood in which Zoey actually GETS the joy of the holidays, and is completely willing to be swept up in the excitement of it all. Which makes writing about our holiday traditions seem all the more festive and totally fun.

I have, however, decided to skim over the Thanksgiving tradition we have of skipping the gym, gorging ourselves on nothing but junk for four days straight, and rolling our tubby, bloated selves back to real life on Monday. (So not looking forward to Monday.)

Thanksgiving weekend is always the time we plow up to the mountain and pick out our Christmas tree. This is something Bryan's family has done since he and his brother, Justin, were little kids (I was raised in more of a let's-hit-up-the-tree-farm-down-the-street sort of family). Before we moved, we usually went with Justin and his fiancee, Angela, and when we lived in Vancouver, I generally sent Bryan up to Mt. Hood on his own--it wasn't quite the same without Justin and Angela, and besides, there was the whole 'let's not be out on a bumpy mountain road far from civilization when your wife is ready to pop out a kid any day now' issue of 2006. Anyway. We did take Zoey up to Mt. Hood one year, just the three of us...fun, but not AS FUN as Mt. Rainier with Justin and Angela.

*Honesty moment* I feel way safer traveling up bumpy mountain roads far from civilization with my brother-in-law than I do with only my husband. Justin is certainly the older, more cautious, and dare I say more mature of the two boys, and far less likely than Bryan to try stupid shit like "let's see how close we can get to the edge of that cliff in this dinky old Datsun pick-up". Bryan is fun, don't get me wrong...but safety appeals to my cautious nature and I was oh-so-thankful to be riding in the backseat of Justin's large, gas-guzzling tank of a truck. Knowing I will return from our yearly trip up the mountain in one piece is, you know, COMFORTING. So, when I say "it just isn't as much fun without Justin and Angela", what I really mean is "I don't want to die".

So we hit the road early this morning, around 8 a.m., which seems far less obnoxious to me now than it ever did back in the day ("the day" being pre-Zoey). It took just under two hours to get to the spot where we would finally quit jostling along horribly-maintained back roads, park, and get out and hike. (Would have made better time if some genius ahead of us hadn't decided to drive his wee Saturn way too far up the road, bury himself up to his axles, and require the assistance of many of the dozen large trucks behind him to pull him out and to the side of the road.)

Before we got out of the truck I informed Zoey she'd be partaking in the very first peeing-in-the-snow moment of her life. As in, BEFORE the snowsuit, winter coat, and mittens were in place. And pee in the snow she did--without so much as a whimper or a dribble on her pants or boots. Total champ.

I think we hiked--steeply uphill--for quite awhile before finding the perfect tree. Seriously, a perfect tree. Turns out that, if you hike up far enough, you are far less likely to return with the Charlie Brown tree your family still mocks you for. (Honestly, people, you come home with a straggler a couple years in a row and you never live it down.)

Are you wondering yet what hiking uphill in the snow with a two year old was like? Are you?

Zoey was awesome.

For the first 45 minutes or so.

And I'd say that the last third of the hike down was just miserable for all. At one point, as Bryan kept pointing farther up the mountain and saying "let's go look at that one!", I was like "dude, pick a tree, because have you seen your daughter?". Sliding around on her bottom and dealing with a constant runny nose only kept her occupied for so long. And seeing as how I am balance-challenged on the easiest of walking routes, my sole job on the way back down was to remain upright and carry the handsaw. (Because giving the one who trips over her own two feet THE SAW TO CARRY actually WAS the only option, seeing as Bryan was carrying Zoey AND dragging the perfect tree behind him for the last leg of the jaunt back down the mountain.)

We made it back to flat land safely, although I was having visions of Bryan tripping and hurtling our child head-over-feet the last 20 feet or so, at which time I would trip and end up slicing my leg off, and wouldn't that be the highlight of the 2009 Christmas season? Concussions and amputations? GO 2009.

Zoey regained trooper-mentality as soon as we were flat again, and bravely tried to keep up behind Angela and I...but we could actually feel ourselves starting to age as we patiently waited for her to catch up. Finally, Angela, in what was the kindest moment of the whole trek down, offered Zoey a piggyback ride. I'm assuming this was because she wanted to make it back to the truck before nightfall. Zoey happily accepted, made it back to the truck, ate her weight in cheese and crackers, and promptly fell sound asleep all the way home, despite a few potholes here and there that made it look like her neck might snap from the bouncing around it was doing in her carseat.

Going to pick out a tree is one of my favorite Christmas traditions, because it truly kicks off the season in our household. Tomorrow it will be lights, decorations, and a post on wreath-making at my mother-in-law's house.