Deck the Halls, Not the Husband
Deck the Halls, Not the Husband
By Cate Rees-Hessel
New Family Traditions
I like classic, classy things; my husband, on the other hand adores the tacky. Currently, he is in a decorating frenzy, and that scares me. As we prepare to celebrate, who can forget decorations? I sometimes wish my other half would. Don’t get me wrong, I love a tasteful wreath on the door and a holly berry candle on the mantle, and this year, thanks to my recent DNA test, we will be including a menorah along with the family creche, however, my other half is not quite a Clinton Kelly when it comes to holiday embellishment.
Another Holiday Move
I look up from a Hallmark Christmas movie, and to my horror I see my spouse, attired in a Chicago Cubs Santa hat and a flashing Christmas tree tie, hanging jingle bells on the bathroom doorknob. Apparently, there are no safe places from his holiday mania. I cautiously enter the powder room, which has been transformed into a winter wonderland, as in I wonder what the heck happened to my bathroom.
Hang Up the Mistletoe…
Gone are the lovely blue lace-edged fingertip towels and the matching ceramic soap pump. Replacing these tasteful items are Hallmark’s Jolly in the John – really? My husband loves this little guy as much as he loves his Mini – and joining good ol’ Jolly is his pet reindeer, another Hallmark creation, with a roll of toilet paper decorating one of his antlers. Rounding out the tacky trio is Mr. John’s “other half”, a plastic snowwoman soap pump.
And the Toilet Seat
A purple garland adorns the shower curtain rod, and the shell toilet seat is now covered with a giant Santa face, gloved hands covering his eyes (do you blame him?). My attractive celery green with chocolate brown polka-dots bathrobe has been replaced with a latch hook creation of eight tiny reindeer, a rather unfortunate garage sale find. I turn to flee this holiday horror to find my other half nailing mistletoe above the necessary room door.
Merry Migraine!
I resume watching the previously interrupted holiday-inspired film, I take a fortifying sip of my mocha latte as my husband makes his way to the kitchen with a devilish glint in his eye, our jingle bell collared puggle Sasha in tow. My better (?) half is carrying a pair of Rudolph pot holders and a Grinch tea towel. What desecration could he be up to? Visions of plastic glitter sugar plums strung on the stove dance in my head, threatening a migraine. Did I just see our cat Prada wearing kitty-sized elf ears? Over the years my husband has acquired a plethora of kitschy Christmas items, right down to, cover your eyes, glow in the dark snowman boxer shorts, which he actually wears to bed. Does murdering a spouse still rate a life sentence?
Jolly in the John
As I said, one of his favorite pieces of seasonal décor is Hallmark’s “Jolly in the John”; normally I’m a Hallmark kind of girl: love the movies, cards, and ornaments, but I have yet to make friends with good ol’ “Jolly”. A plastic snowman holding a plunger who sings the potty song “Who’s Gotta’ Go”, and informs bathroom visitors they “look a little flush”; in my opinion, he’s gotta’ go. My spouse proudly places him atop the toilet tank, accompanied by his “snowwife”, a plastic lotion dispenser in the shape of a snowwoman, and their beloved pet, another Hallmark creation, a reindeer adorned with a roll of toilet paper on one antler. This “charming” trio has replaced my tasteful glass vase, containing vintage gold and silver Christmas balls.
A Special (Dis)appearance
Ironically, strange things have befallen Jolly – he keeps coming up missing, and stranger still, it only occurs when my hubby isn’t home. I have no idea how Jolly ended up in the bushes-apparently he must have fallen out of the window. I didn’t realize our dog could throw up the sash; lucky for us, our neighbor found him and brought him to our door. My other half then found him in the trash can-I have no idea how he got there, either. He was lovingly washed down and put back and in his place of honor, behind the throne.
Pack It In
Most recently, Jolly turned up at the local thrift store, buried in a box of old clothes I had donated. Lucky for us, that same helpful neighbor volunteers at the resale shop. My husband happened to be in there seeking out more tacky, I mean whimsical, holiday decorations, so the snowman has returned home. I guess I just have to accept that good ol’ Jolly is my husband’s way of decorating. We have certainly decked the halls with a unique bevy of holiday décor, but always in the theme of “peace on earth and goodwill toward men”; yes, Virginia, I married a man with style…
