By: Allison Norris

I’ve started doing yoga, just tonight, and I love it.

I’ve never exercised… not really. I don’t remember the last time that I went to a gym. My body is sore from lifting up my child and I wonder why. I’m out of shape!

Growing up broke, I think I felt a responsibility to go home after school, or work at my mother’s consignment shop to help out. Signing up for sports just hadn’t occurred to me and I told everyone that I wasn’t athletic or coordinated so that I was never considered for a team. Money for uniforms and sign up fees didn’t exist. I can also be a little dramatic, so getting hurt seemed like the end of the world.

Now that I have pushed a human out of my vagina, sans drugs, I feel as though I can take on the world and nothing can stop me… except for my achy back, throbbing shoulder, and sore knees. Time for a change!

I signed up for hot yoga and borrowed my sister’s mat so that it looked like I belonged there. Men and women poured in behind me as I was in the front of the room – as close to the instructor as possible as I had anticipated having many questions.

She explained a few moves and we jumped right in. I was good at it! I looked like a real yoga person – headband and all! But then, I started sweating. I looked at the girl next to me and she looked a bit dewy, but I wouldn’t say “sweaty”. Drops were plummeting to the floor and being absorbed by my orange bath towel (note to self – must purchase cool yoga towel). My nursing tank (yes, I wore a nursing tank because I don’t own a sports bra) was turning a different color because sweat was running down my cleavage and collecting at my built in bra. Again, I looked around. Nobody else seemed to have this serious of a problem…

I focused on my downward facing dog pose and took a few deep breaths. It felt so good.

I can’t wait for next week. Just me, my breathing, feeling my body… and also 15 really sweaty strangers looking up at my little rump in the air.

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[photo credit: Flickr member: myyogaonline]

By: Allison Norris

I left Baylor at home with my mom over the weekend to attend a wedding in Los Angeles. The decision to leave him was harder than I had thought; but with much encouragement from other mamas who had “cut the cord” (again), I went.

I’d been planning and stressing for the past month. Pumping and freezing enough breast milk to hold Bay over until I got back was no easy feat. I did not have a supply beforehand (classic Allison), and really do hate cleaning all of the little parts of my super pump, so I rarely take the time to fill a bag with my precious liquid. I pumped and pumped and had just enough to feel like I was not leaving my child without, um, food.

I started a non-profit called Project Parachute with Jason Mesnick who was the bachelor on tv. We give child care scholarships to single mamas and dads who are working or going to school. We also are starting support groups across the country for single parents who need to vent about all the dynamic parts of single parenting. This process has been intense and I have learned more than any college class could have taught me. Anyone who has filed a tax-exemption application (or 501c3) with the IRS knows what a task this can be… It has also provided me with the opportunity to help some single parents out there!

It also meant that I was invited to Jason’s wedding, and to represent this project that I have become so passionate about.

I met Christina, the other executive director of Project Parachute. We’ve been talking on the phone for almost 6 months and started the foundation together – from across the country. She lives in Gainesville, Florida, and we met for the first time in LA. She is fabulous. Christina has followed another “famous single dad” and insisted that we meet up with him.

An absolute bonus about LA was meeting Matt Logelin. Matt’s wife just died after giving birth to their daughter, Maddie, while still in the hospital. Matt started a blog and a non-profit, and is in the process of finishing a book about his experience. After picking his brain about how to run a successful foundation, Matt disclosed that he digs sweets, good music, and dropping f-bombs. I obviously wanted to be his new bff.

Matt talked about his blog and what it did for him. He never considered himself a writer, but just started doing it to cope with his loss… and his new love, Maddie. His writing is raw and honest and to the point while still poetic. There is no beating around the bush or leaving you wondering about what he meant. He told me that he had to stop caring about what other people thought and just write exactly what he observed and felt.

Of course we have different writing styles – I am more into telling a story… with a splash of “funny” – and I’m too nervous about what everyone will say if I bare my soul to the world (ok, maybe not “the world”). It was inspiring and amazing and it broke my heart. All of it.

Meeting Matt, and then witnessing the behind-the-scenes of a televised wedding couldn’t have been more of a juxtaposition. Both famous daddios, and for entirely different reasons. Both working on helping single parents… and a few new loves.

Maybe I do need to be a little more “raw” with my writing. I guess for Matt, after losing the love of your life – in front of you – you realize that the small stuff doesn’t matter and who gives a shit about what people think. It’s making the most out of your life, and about being the best parent you can be to the little eyes that look up to you and trust each decision that you make. Right?

I gave Bay extra kisses today… Then, he peed on me and I loved every second of it.

[photo credit: Flickr- Viastula]

By: Allison Norris

I can always tell when I say something annoying. I wonder why people who are actually very annoying don’t catch on… especially after the fourth eye roll in a row or another “mmm-hmm” from the listener while glancing around the room. I feel the words choking me as I sputter them out, not sure why I am saying them as I am sure they are… annoying.

I’ve come to terms with the fact that baby talk is my new first language and that I can’t remember what stories I’ve already told. I’m sure my friends dread playing along like they’ve never heard what I’m about to say and then quickly change the subject so that they don’t have to hear the “repeat tangent” like it’s the first time I’ve thought of it. This is kindness at its best. Not having a husband or roommate walk through the door each evening to exercise my witty bantering skills with has become obvious. I’ve taken up “one upping” to make myself feel like I know what I’m doing and actually talking about.

A friend of mine just had a baby… well, not just, as she has a nine year old and now a 2 month old. We went to lunch and I was so excited to see her, to have someone else to commiserate with and to show off what a hunk my little guy is. Her son was peacefully sleeping in his carseat and woke up hungry. As she started to unbuckle him, words began coming out of my mouth. It reminded me of science class when we we made volcanoes out of vinegar and baking soda. I had my own science experience happening… the words were foaming up and pouring out all over our lunch.

“oh yeah, you should probably feed him here. There aren’t too many places around this shopping center that are good for breastfeeding…”

“Great. I was actually getting him out to feed him.” She politely informed me.

“So… are you planning on joining PEPS, the mommy group?”

“Yeah, I think I’ll join in the next few weeks…”

“Well I signed up when I was four months pregnant and barely got on a waiting list. It’s a miracle I’m even in a group – so I would sign up, like, yesterday.”

Who was this know-it-all inhabiting my body? It was as if all self control and social etiquette had become a thing of the past and I was this savage of a girlfriend with primitive communication skills.

She fed her son and we finished feeding ourselves. We packed our things and I caught sight of her $1200 stroller. It was like someone was inside of my brain pushing the buttons and torquing the levers as I started comparing our strollers – out loud.

“Yeah, the thing I like about my stroller is that it has an undercarriage so that I can put all my stuff underneath. I’d be totally lost without it. Like, how do you even leave the house without one?”

“Umm…”

“And another thing, my diaper bag is so small that it leave me tons of room for other stuff. Have you seen this diaper bag brand? Mmm hmm. It’s the best.”

She got very quiet and it was unfortunately time for me to go home. I drove the 5 miles home replaying every awkward comment that I had made. It was like a drunken hook up that you can’t get out of your head the entire next day – that one scene that makes you go ohhh nooooo. I had experienced my first know-it-all drunken hook up… or whatever.

I blame it on sleep deprivation, making up songs about birdies and puppies that I end up humming because I can’t think of more words that rhyme, and eating too many Christmas cookies because I am home all day alone with them. It’s a bad combination and one that led me down a very dark social path, leaving me feeling like Penelope from snl… with a baby. I am just banking on my friend being equally as sleep deprived and too tired to notice. It feels like I have no idea what I’m doing on a daily basis and when that opportunity arises to sound like I am in control and actually have a grasp on things – it’s too awesome to pass up!

If you run into “Allison-the-expert”, I apologize. Right here, right now, I apologize.