making fun of chuck on xmas eve. it feels right.

Gosh the holidays really do sneak up on you. One day you're shopping about, thinking you have all the time in the world to prep for the Holidays and the next moment it's Christmas Eve and you've completely forgotten to make fun of your husband's tree watering set up on your blog.

I'm embarrassed. I can't believe I let this sit here so long. I apologize. I've met all other holiday deadlines perfectly. This one just flew by. But it must be posted and discussed.

Ok. The set up.

We got a Christmas tree.
It needed to be watered.

Wow. That wasn't as hard as I imagined it would be. Ok, ok, a little more information because I have time (both boys are down for their morning naps). We got a beautiful Fraser Fir this year (please to see picture of said gorgeous tree with enamored gorgeous baby in post here). It was sucking up water at an alarming rate when we brought it home from the tree hospital and it was going to need midnight feedings to keep up.

This was not going to happen.

We are all sleeping through the night here and no tree was going to mess that up. Plus, I handle all human baby feedings so tree baby would have fallen to Chuck Allison and that guy has a thing for sleep (see above paragraph where I note that he is down for a nap at 8:45 am).

I "heard" Chuck say something about the tree being super thirsty, needing lots of water, and handling it so we (he) didn't have to get up to water it at night. I put "heard" in quotes because clearly I wasn't listening and was probably looking into some important files on my computer (like on the book of faces or this wonderful online pinboard-style photo sharing site).

I got up.

I plugged in the tree.

I found this (remember, this is a few weeks ago, not last night):

Let me break down what your seeing.

First, there is a cat barrier to the watering system that you need to look past. That would be the kitty litter tub, Tupperware, and the trash can filled with tree clippings (which Chuck would later say were also put there to distract any kitten-water-getting attempts). Squint your eyes to the juice pitcher with plastic tubing coming out of it.

Here's a zoom in. That's the tree watering system.
Pitcher. Plastic tubing. Etc.

Ah Chuck Allison. I got a lesson that I didn't ask for on the physics of this and how the water level in the pitcher is always the same height as the water level in the tree stand, ensuring continuous watering at night and a refilling of the stand. There are even weights attached to each side of the tubing to keep them in their respective containers.

Oh Chuck.

1. You had the vision for this.
2. You had all the supplies for it readily available.

And that my friends is how Chuck waters a tree (well, again, weeks ago. Now the tree can handle life without midnight feedings and hey, he's sleeping through the night too. Maybe we should have rigged up a system like this to feed Sam a few months ago when night time feedings were all the rage around here. Where were you with that one, Chuck?).

Merry Christmas Eve to all!
Love, The Allison 3

"i can't put my arms down"

Good news, it snowed 2 inches so obviously the city has shut down, Chuck is working from home, and all my teacher friends got a day off. I'm thrilled for you people.

Bad news, did you know my new job doesn't have snow days?  This is ridiculous. I know we've talked about this Motherhood Union and the need to organize and I say it now more than ever. There has been zero E! watched today and not a drop of hot chocolate drunk. Sam is killing Snow Day Susie, which is one of my favorite Susies.

UNTIL, I found a little gem hiding in the back of his closet which I have named his "Randy Snow Suit". I'm assuming you get the reference and if not, let's end our friendship now. It said 3-6 months size, which he fit last in July, but it looked enormous so I decided to cram him in it because I didn't have much else on the docket today. Good news, it actually fit (not that that would have stopped me).

And then I threw him in the snow.

Ok so not actually threw him, even though I wanted to and Jack did remind us that that's how he first met snow so fair is fair, but it was more like a gentle lay down on the grass.

He legitimately could not put his arms down and I have legitimately never loved him more or any piece of clothing on him more. He defined adorable in it. Look out snow ladies.

(For the record, we did everything in our power to get the mittens on him. He rejected those hand socks faster than, well, sock socks.)

He wasn't too impressed with the snow until he found out he could eat it. Classic LFB (little fat baby).

Ok, so maybe his Randy Snow Suit redeemed him a tad and revived some of the light in Snow Day Susie. But I'm still looking to organize this Motherhood Union regardless of how cute he was.

(Um look at this... I actually went OUTSIDE in the snow where it was cold and took a walk with him. I know. I'm shocked too. Who am I? What have I become?)

parenting fail: we made christmas cookies.


I don't want to rush anything or toot any horns but let's just say someone is nailing motherhood today.

I would love to be one of those healthy moms. No GMOs. Organic. Vegan. We are at seven months here and I'm pretty sure that ship has already sailed. I'm not condemning those moms or poo pooing them, no no. They are doing a great job. And I'm doing a great job too, just in other areas. Like sprinkles eating.

We made Christmas cookies today and I use the term made, cookies, and even Christmas as loosely as possible. We (oh that's Fe and me with Sam actively hindering) have two burned pans of snicker doodles. Gingerbread trees that aren't trees (we'll get to that). And the chocolate crinkles remain dough in the fridge. I'm still having 'nam like flashbacks to 2 hours ago and can't bring myself to bake them yet. The only win is the chocolate chip cookie bars that aren't even Christmas cookies but Chuck just had to have them.

Some moms are great cookie bakers.
I am not one of those moms. File that with the healthy moms and see above picture of baby with bowl o' sprinkles.

Ps. We call those sprinkles "hundreds and thousands". It's a British thing and Fe and PK used to live in Scotland (how's that for a fun family fact) so they've always been Hundreds and Thousands. Any idea what they are actually called?

Ok. Lets talk about today. And by talk, I mean, I'm just going to list the fails that my Mom and I had today that ended with the kitchen looking like this:

And with the baby in the sink.

1. We tried to make gingerbread Christmas trees like my Grandma Nancy did. It would help if I had realized that a tree cookie cutter was probably something you should own in order to make tree shaped cookies. Or cookie cutters of any shape for that matter. Here's another fun fact (I am in a giving holiday mood apparently) I don't own a single cookie cutter. The cookies are biscuit shaped and horrid looking. They taste 80% like Grandma's.

2. We burned two pans of snicker doodles but that is Sam's fault because the Hundreds and Thousands happened at this time. Sorry Sam, but until you speak up, I paid for the right to blame you.

3. No one was watching Sam (why can he not just handle life without us?) and he dumped an entire cup of cold coffee over himself, the table, and the floor. That's how come he ended up in just a diaper in his walker, which looked SUPER classy. See below picture of classy baby.

4. The spatula that he's chewing on had been in the dishwasher but again, supervision was a bit lacking today and he grabbed it from the silverware holder and was thrilled with his efforts. Thank god it was only covered in molasses and not any number of horrid things that it easily could have been. Ha! A win amongst a myriad of fails (but really, is that a win Susie? That he picked the "right" piece of silverware when you weren't looking?).

5. I don't know who's idea it was to give him the sprinkles but that was a slippery slope. Actually. I know who's idea it was and it rhymes with "Schmee".  Fe. If you didn't get that. It was Fe. Fe did it. I turned around and this was happening:

On the plus side, at least we were watching him, so we should get gold stars for that right? Don't you get rewarded for doing what you should be doing? Well fine but you should.

6. Fe gave him the bowl because this is when the cookies started burning and we were both too focused on picture taking, not peeing our pants, and actually watching Sam to care about what was in the oven. Until you could smell the burning and then Fe dumped the bowl and ran.

So that's when we decided to do a sink bath because, obviously. What else could we do at this point? That's when...

7. He somehow got the nasty sink brush in his mouth.

8. Was caught planking between the two sink sides trying to get at the faucet.

9. Ate an entire gingerbread circle (?).

It is a wonder that Fe and I could manage entire classrooms full of children and well I might add. We have the performance evaluations to prove it. In our joint retirement, we can barely handle one 7 month old, who doesn't move or even sit up on his own yet. I just don't feel like things are heading in the right direction for her and me and Sam's safety.

And that my friends is how making Christmas cookies went today. The "edible" ones look horrendous. Fe is remaking the snicker doodles. Sam is in a sugar coma in his crib and I am covered head to toe in green icing.

I know there's Attachment Parenting and Tiger Moms and all that. Is there Train Wreck Parenting? Because I feel like I am nailing that style.

the love of sam and his tree.

This post is mostly a shameless venue for me to spread the propaganda of Sam and share photos with his grandparents. Color me a new Mom at Christmas time. Couldn't be more over it. 

O Christmas tree, O Christmas,
Thy leaves are so unchanging.

The unchanging ones are clearly the ones at least 18 inches off the ground because the low ones are getting beat to crap this holiday season by one Samuel Kerry Allison.

Sam is in love with the Christmas tree - obviously. And not just any love, like the love he has for Chuck and Me, but real love, the kind that up until now has been reserved mostly for the remote control and my iPhone. True love.

If Washington could pass a Proposition Evergreen, Sam would strap the Christmas tree to the top of his walker and rush at a rapid 2 feet per hour to the courthouse to marry it.

He could sit for hours in front of the tree if he was able to stay awake for more than two hours without needing a nap (he's such a baby) or if I could trust him to sit there nicely. I cannot.

Enjoy your tree, Sam.
I'd keep it up year round if I could. But I can't. Your dad said something about a fire hazard. I wouldn't know. I stopped listening.

it's christmas card time.

Hokay. I have some good news and I have some bad news.

Let's start with the good news so I don't lose you forever, although we'll see by the end of this. You may disown us, our blog, and shun our entire lifestyle. Which I will get, understand, and fully support. You have my blessing.

Christmas card season is upon us once again. Halle-tacky sweater and uncomfortable pose-lujah. We loves us some awful Christmas cards and thank goodness, we are finally getting the recognition we deserve.

No not really, but this web site found our picture from Christmas 2010 and included us in the horrible Christmas card run down. We couldn't be happier. The list has gone viral, 50 million people emailed it to me last night, and now I share it with you. You are welcome.

Christmas 2010

Seriously For Real: Walmart Called - Your Xmas Photos are Ready.
disclaimer: not all of the pictures are blog appropriate so you've been warned. Funny. But maybe I wouldn't show Lucy all of them if that makes sense or helps in any way.

I have a few questions:
1. Do people think our picture is serious?
2. No. Just number 1.

So. It came time to decide what to do this year. It's a lot of pressure. And a lot of expectation. And this is where the bad news is.


I know.
I know.
I know.
I know.

Give me five freaking seconds to explain before you never read my blog again.

I needed to send out a normal card. I had too. Get ready for the infertility card to get played because BAM here it is: I have dreamed about sending out a real Christmas card picture from MY own real family for years and I was finally able to do it and blah, blah, blah. I know. You don't care. All you hear is excuses. Like I said in the beginning, I understand if you this is over between us.

Look, I just really needed this one this year so if we are all OK and can be adults, I promise (cross my heart and swear to Nordstrom) we will send out something horrid, and terrible, and likely to make another "worst of" list again next year.

Can I just point out that at least I didn't completely cave? So I may have sent out that pic to the good little boys and girls on our list, but at least I put this gem on the back. (Someone got a little over-served from Thanksgiving dinner.)

Now that is a terrible picture and what mother would ever send that out?
Maybe one trying to make up for the lame one on the front?

I promise to do better next year. Really, I do.

But quick, while I have you:
True or False. Sam and the disgraced Toronto Mayor were separated at birth.
Yes or No.


he's 7 months old (pretend this is last wednesday)

I am relatively (but only relatively) sure that being almost a week late on his 7 month post will not cause irreparable damage. But you really never know. This could be the end of it. To make up for this, I have decided to switch parenting gears and I will now never say no to Sam. If he wants it, he gets it. This is the only way to undo the damage I may have already caused by not blogging about his life in a timely manner.

On second thought, I'm sure the best gift I could give him would be to NOT blog about his life so when he's 14 there aren't pictures of him in a diaper floating around the interweb, but pass. Not gonna happen. That gets a solid sawreeaa.

Obviously by the negative posting I did in November, you could say things got a little away from me. Whoopsie daisy.

Sam had a banner month. He decided to love me again and sleep through the nights now. Thank God. I mean he tells a good secret, but just nothing worth writing home about at 2:15 in the morning.

He's a big fan of people food. Pot roast, French fries, yogurt, muddy buddies - the finer foods that you oh-so-hope to addict your child to. Baby food, on the other hand, gets a fart noise and a face like we just killed Lassie. (I do appreciate that he's getting comfortable enough with his fart noises to begin appropriately timing them. I swear, if this wasn't my kid, I'd steal him and make him mine. Is that weird? Or just barely on the "normal" side of motherly love?)

Samula (that's not misspelled, that's nickname 739 for this kid), we love you to pieces. Every day a little more, even though I swear I couldn't love you any more - but that's only because I haven't seen you yet tomorrow.

The Seahawks shirt is a 6/9 month. He out grew it Week 2 into the season. He will wear it thru the playoffs if I have to cut the arms and crotch off and still butter him up to slide it on.

Oh no, you didn't miss Christmas. Chuck's Mom had to be limited to only letting Sam open two of his Christmas presents early. Left alone, she would have let him open them all.


No caption necessary.

Incidentally, if you are ever wondering what I looked like as a baby... Bingo.

A rare frowny face picture. Actually, I just caught him at a weird moment. There was no actual frown taking place. He wouldn't know how to.
Fart noises.

Fart noises.

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