chuck grew a garden! (so much sarcasm)

We have had such an exciting development at the Allison household. I am just bursting to tell you about it. I mean, we can rank this on exciting news to blog-share:
1. The pregnancy announcement.
2. What I'm about to tell you.

Sam's birth is probably number 3. Probably.

Chuck has grown a wild flower garden of his very own!
Let me show you a picture of it because it is just beautiful.

Aside from the title, this should be the moment you realize this blog post is full of crap - incredibly similar to my husband.

Chuck decided LAST YEAR that he wanted to plant wild flowers. I still have yet to determine what caused this or made him decide this. No wait, I just asked him whilst typing and he said "I wanted something pretty to look at." This actually makes this post even better.

Our backyard, well, how do I say this? Um. It sucks. It's just terrible. We have great plans to finally fix up said backyard and it starts with the fence which we will be doing in July. You may remember that the horrific fence is still standing out of spite, not laziness, and you can read about that here. But since it fully fell over in February (and we got it back up without the neighbors realizing it - win), it is time.

Anywhoo. The backyard is awful. I've included the above photo proof of it's suckage. Chuck decided last year that in this spot where we ripped out some ugly bushes (oh yeah, the backyard used to be worse, if you can believe that. It's OK if you don't.) that he would plant his wild flower garden.

He bought himself a packet of seeds and just sprinkled away. And he waited and he waited and he waited and I laughed and laughed and laughed because I am a bad person. It's not that I wanted his garden to fail, I just knew it would because we are not garden people, our backyard is not an ideal flower garden space, and those generic wild flower packets never work/it just looks like weeds. Ugh, that all just made me sound even worse. I'm just a diggin' myself a hole here, aren't I? I'll go bury myself in the expansive garden.

By the end of the summer, we realized that, officially, the garden was not going to "take off" and that the weed killer poison stuff that had been on the previous summer (and done a wonderful job) was still working. That stuff is amazing apparently.

So this summer comes and Chuck decides to try again. The man is nothing if not committed. And patient. He got out the same seed packet, now expired, and sprinkled away the rest of the packet because, he says, "Why not?". Now that I stay-at-home with Sam I have nothing better to do than text Chuck pictures of the empty flower bed with captions like "Just enjoying the garden view today".

I am such a jerk. I really gotta be more supportive of this guy and stop cutting away on his dreams. Especially when they are adorable - my husband wanted a garden of flowers. Two things in my defense - 1. If you really knew Chuck, you'd know why I was laughing at this. I can't explain it more than that - he just has a way with things. 2. Chuck was also sending similar texts and the wild flower garden jokes and making fun of his idea. Plus "wild flower garden joke" have just hit their one year anniversary so based on the joke by-laws, those will be forever with us and always brought up whenever we see or hear of a wild flower garden.

But then, one day, MIRACULOUSLY that loan orange flower grew.

There he is. Right. There.

Now Chuck is just all about his flower garden, which, he notes, that after two years of work yielded 1 flower so we have a .5 annual growth on our hands. Expect upon further inspection tonight, four more flowers are starting so this post in now void and we have a raging garden on our hands...

So, obviously, he loves his garden. I asked what he will be doing with this windfall of growth and this is what I got.

Stare at it in thought.

Frolick in the garden.

Lay/bask in the meadow like atmosphere.

So, Chuck grew a garden. He's going to work on growing better wild flower gardens in the future and apparently I am going to work on being a nicer person. My bet is he does better with his goal than me with mine.

the seven stages of grief/sam waking up

Waking up is a freaking process around here. But I can't blame him. Actually, I can blame his Dad. I could do the seven stages of wake up grief with Chuck if I wanted to. I don't want to, but I could. We go through it every morning.

Sam also includes a few more stages in his wake up process because he's an overachiever even in grief.

chuck swaddled me in a sheet.

So maybe we got a little bored last night after dinner and maybe we decided to swaddle me in a top sheet. Wipe the judgemental look off your face. You know you want to try it now.

Basically, the top sheet happened to find its way downstairs to be laundered and its journey to clean involved swaddling me. What? The road to how we got here is not paved with genius. Bored. Sheet. Adult swaddle. It's a pretty easy connect the dots/slippery slope. #typicalbehavior.

Anywhoo. Let's talk about Mother Chuck while I have you. Chuck is amazing at swaddling. You might think you are also pretty good at swaddling but you're not. Again, what? Right, so I've never seen you swaddle, but I can still say with total confidence that Chuck swaddles better than you do. He is the Rain Man of swaddling. Obviously, we all saw this coming. The cocktail for swaddling perfection is all there in Chuck: meticulous, able to follow directions, cool under fussing baby pressure. Read that list again and then ask yourself how well you think I swaddle (wink).

Sam was sleeping when the swaddling happened, so don't worry he didn't see this take place. Well, not until the very end but we'll get to that.

Here is the beginning of the swaddle:

I made sure to thrash around and fuss a little to make it feel authentic and real to Chuck. He said this really helped in his swaddling. I had a great time and also my mouth is non-small.

Chuck finished up the swaddle and I looked amazing.

It totally calmed me down. Except NOT. Guess who got super claustrophobic being swaddled on the floor? Hint: she has a giant mouth and it's me. I did not enjoy being swaddled.

It was about this time that Sam woke up from his nap and was ready to be fed, played with, entertained, etc. He is so needy and demanding and baby like. Obviously I couldn't hop up and tend to him and it was about this time that we decided he and I needed a "Swaddle Twins" picture together. Problem was he wasn't currently swaddled. So...that meant we needed to swaddle up the now wide awake, super hungry "I've never been fed before" baby. This went over well. The phrase "turd in a punch bowl" comes to mind.

He was mostly confused. He was wide awake and swaddling is a sleep routine. He had been perfectly content and swaddling is for soothing. He had plenty control of his arms and swaddling is when he loses arm privileges. His little baby mind just did not know what was going on. We are such good parents.

Don't worry, I birthed myself from my swaddle once we took this picture. Again, exploit first. Meet needs second.

That about does it. Adult swaddle. Pretty happy we did this.

the last last day of school.

Today was the last day of school. It's always my favorite day and my least favorite day every year. It's hard to say goodbye to little friends you spend what seems like a lifetime with and who you know that you will never see again in that same capacity or that same light. And they will never see you the same. They will belong to someone else soon and soon you will have new friends that will be your one and only(s).

Except this year was really, really different for me.

Obviously my last day was back in April when I was pregasaurus rex and could barely walk, but not so huge that I couldn't ride on the carousal at the zoo with my first graders on our field trip together. Priorities.

I find this picture to be both terrifying and terrifyingly amazing. Amazing that I got myself on that horse (win) and off (with the help of a parent, so fail), and that there is a near 11 pound baby in there, eight days away from coming out. Yikes. I am enormous and planet like. But I digress.

That was my last day eve before maternity leave and the next day I said goodbye to my first graders. Every bit of that day felt like the real last day of school. It was hard and I was a mess. A hot pregnant mess which is never a pretty site. But to be honest, I was mostly relived that I'd gotten out of there without giving birth in front of my kids. That could've been super awkward.

Today was the real last day of school. Sam and I went back to say goodbye to everyone again, but this time it was for real real. Because I'm not going back in the fall.

I'm lucky enough to be able to stay home with Sam and that's what I've chosen to do. Back in April, I said goodbye to my 16 first graders. Today I said goodbye to the other 300 kids. It's exciting to be able to stay home and just focus on being a mom, but terrifying to lose part of me - the teacher part.

Someone introduced me the other day as a former teacher and it all but knocked the wind out of me. I am a teacher, I always will be one, but for right now, I need to be something else. A mom. And I am incredibly grateful that I get to do this.

I know staying home isn't every one's idea of a good time and it isn't the path everyone would choose. I also know it's the path so many wish they could choose but can't for different reasons. That's why I feel so blessed that I can do this.

I know there will be bad days. I know there will be days where I will miss my former life so much I won't be able to breath. I also know there will be days where I will thank God I didn't miss a moment with him.

I like to joke that he literally cost too much to put in day care. Or that I spent all my working years making him and now I need a vacation (not that this will be one...). But the truth is, no matter how I'd gotten Sam, this would've been my choice - as long as we are able for me to do it. My goal in life was always to be a teacher, but my dream was to be a Mom.

So. Just so you know, I'm officially a stay-at-home Mom. Bring on the soap operas, house coats, and curlers.

FYI. It's been the best job ever so far.

father's day.

Someone who is "born to be a mother" gets said all the time. I know I say it all the time when I'm teaching - that so and so is born to be a mom and what a beautiful mother she will be. And then it's said to new moms again and again - that we were born for this. This is what we were meant to do.

But let me tell you something. If anyone was born to be a Dad, it's this guy.

He was literally made for this job and he is amazing at it. His swaddles are impeccable. He moby wraps better than most moms and he read Happiest Baby on the Block cover to cover to make sure our baby was just that.

He was meant to be a Dad. Thank God he finally is one.

this is super graphic.

This video is pretty graphic. I'm not gonna lie.

Sam apparently thought he was a 12 year old girl and decided to practice kissing on his hand. He is really going after it. I mean dang, son. He is so going to be ready for spin the playtex bottle. Probably don't leave your lady babies unattended in the pack n play when Sam is around.

Ok OR he is just super aggressively rooting. And, obviously, we decided to video tape this first rather than immediately feed him. Is that not what we are supposed to do? First exploit, then meet needs? I feel like I am really nailing this parenting thing. You should probably be taking notes or at least be bookmarking my blog posts.

Incidentally, Sam called Baby CPS shortly after this claiming he's never been fed. I showed them his fat rolls and got off with a warning, but probably keep this video between us. Don't need Sam to have any extra ammunition.

we're working on smizing.

It goes without saying that I obviously have the cutest baby around. Save for the raging case of baby acne that could make him a proactiv infomercial star IF they'd let me give it to him.

(side bar: Obviously I know better than to give my baby proactiv or to pick at his face. But if we can be honest with each other, and I hope we can, some of those things are so tempting... I HAVEN'T. I haven't. I'm just trying to be real with you. Relationships are built on trust. I want us to have that.)

N-E-Whoo. We were talking about the amazing cuteness of my baby. For example, look at Dapper Dan here on his way to his first visit to the Mother Ship (Nordstrom to the lay person).

See. Freaking uh-dorable.
Could he be more alert at 5 weeks? Obviously he is gifted. He's going to kindergarten in the fall. I've early entranced him. Half day, naturally, since I feel like All-Day K is pushing it.

That picture came out super beauticious because me and himz have been working on our smizing and angles in pictures. We did not get to this point in our picture taking without a lot of work. Some people might say that at 5 weeks I shouldn't really be criticizing the way my child looks in pictures or trying to work with him on posing. I say, Rome and Gisele Bundchen were not built in a day. And besides, isn't good parenting making sure your kid looks better in pictures than everyone else's kid? Am I missing the real meaning of parenting? Or did I actually nail it?

Sam and I have A LOT of time on our hands these days so we practiced our posing last week. We did not have many winners from this session, although it did help him to see what he was doing wrong and where his best angles are.

(I feel like I need a disclaimer on Sam posts that are completely sarcastic so I don't get a visit from CPS.)

For example.

This is not his best angle. This is more "Buzz, your girl friend. Woof."
I love him.

It really is amazing the many faces of a baby, and Baby Sam is really no different. In about 3 minutes, this is what I got. He shows so much variety for the modeling world. Like the anti-Zoolander. He's going to be more of a Hansel. He's so hot right now.

Fat baby face.

Surprised baby face.

Interested baby face.

Judgemental baby face.

Bored baby face.

Mom was messing around with her iPhone and not watching my floppy head baby face.

Fat surprised baby face.

Again with the iPhone and crummy parenting baby face.

Professor baby face.

Like I said before, we are really working on our posing so Sam can be the cutest baby on the block in pictures. Because that is what matters. Not happiness, contentment, or being loved. Obviously.

this baby is ruining my blog.

The question right now is can I blog whilst my breast friend enjoys some lunch. We will find out. It's kind of a cross between one handed typing and really piss poor two handed typing. Wish me luck.

Big boy is officially one month old.

I'm torn on this whole blogging thing right now because while I want to Ron Burgundy "shout it from a mountain" all my love for this little man and show all the pictures of the most photographed baby alive, I promised myself years ago that my blog would never be a "look who had a their first family walk" type thing. I also promised myself I wouldn't wear granny panties ever but things have changed (and certain areas need more coverage right now than they used to, but I digress).

I don't want to be a mommy blogger but I'm starting to think I don't have a choice.
1. He's too adorable to not post a million pictures of.
2. I really have nothing else going on.
3. See number 1 again.

So, bottom line, I'll do a better job updating this thing now that Sam and I are in a routine and I've found out that I can successfully type on this with a human attached to my chestle region (I'm sure that breaks about a million breast feeding laws), but fair warning, things like "Oh em gee, what a big pooper we are" are about to become normal life on here. I wish I had a choice but my hands are tied by his quadruple chin and rolls that go on for days.

A few from this week.

I am officially "that mom" with "that blog".
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