Except sometimes...

These days, I find that I very rarely pine for a partner in my life. It's not even that I'm so busy- although I am- It's more that I'm so content.

Domestically, most things I can do for myself- fix the toilet, rake the leaves- and what I can't do, I can either ignore or pay someone else to do - replace the back door, change my oil. Socially, I have friends to hang out with, plenty people to interact with and have really come to enjoy just being by myself. There's just not the gaping hole in my life that there used to be. Life feels complete as is.

Except sometimes.

We had fun picking out the Christmas tree and once we got it home, I indulged Baby Monster's desire to be the one to cut the twine that held it to the roof of the car, but somehow, as I was dragging it across the lawn all the feelings of loss and loneliness just rushed up on me.

"I shouldn't be doing this alone," I thought. and then, "Well, I'm not doing it alone. Baby Monster is 'helping' me, but it sure would be nice to have another adult here with me. A partner to help me. To enjoy this with me..."

It was at about this time that the tree stopped cooperating. It became heavy and uneven. When I tried to get it into the stand, the branches jutted out, preventing it from going it.

Baby Monster assisted by noting that the tree was not straight and assuring me that I should keep working at it.

I did not want to keep working at it. I wanted to quit. But I couldn't really do that, could I? I wonder if anyone has just left their Christmas tree laying on the lawn for the duration of the holiday season. That's not very festive and I'm pretty sure the kids wouldn't stand for it, so I continued to wrestle the tree.

At this point, one of my downstairs housemates walked up and said, "Do you need a hand?"

"No. I've got it. Thanks though," I replied.

I'm sure that was a little bit confusing to him because, clearly, I did need a hand.

So he stood there and watched me wrestle with the tree for a few more minutes before wandering off.

The thing was that I did need help, but I wanted a different kind of help. I wanted the help of someone who could, later, after putting the kids to bed, sit on the couch holding my hand, sleepily admiring the strange and particular beauty that is a family Christmas tree.

Jimmy had offered to help and all, but I don't think he was in for all that!

I felt pretty silly, refusing help that I clearly needed. And for all that, I spent a few minutes being extremely grouchy as I dragged the thing inside, managed to get it into the corner where it immediately fell over, re-straightened it in its stand, re-put it in the corner, struggled through the tedious task of getting the lights wound round a tree that is shoved in a corner and then plugged it in.

But then our friends came; we ate cookies and drank tea and chocolate; the children banged on things and played with the dog; the tree was decked with ornaments; music played. And I forgot to be grouchy.