Lake Quinault Getaway

By: Allison Norris

I just got beat by a woman covered in jewels and with perfect hair named Judy at cards in the main lodge. She’s 65 and from Beaumont, Texas with a southern twang so sweet you wish she was your grandmami. She asked Toby and me if she could play cards with us because she was absolutely furious with her husband Clay. You see, he ordered a pizza with mushrooms on it and she hates mushrooms. She also hates television except for CNN, FOX, 700 Club and the Young and the Restless. She doesn’t like wine, seafood, cell phones, or Mormons because her 21-year-old daughter just married one. She told her husband that he needed to go back to his room alone because she couldn’t even look at his face. She told us this when she sat down with us and asked us what we would do in the situation. Feeling guilty from a similar situation earlier, I told her that I had bought several snacks for our trip to the Lake Quinault Lodge in the Olympic National Park rain forest, and all of them had sesame seeds in them… Toby is allergic to sesame seeds. I’m not totally sure what I would do in her situation. Then she beat me at Spite and Malice and Gin Rummy. Oh Judy…

Toby and I hiked five miles today… through lush moss that hung from branches and old growth trees that are a thousand years old. My cell phone still worked (thank God), but I felt completely removed from anything busy. I had nowhere to be, and nothing to do except observe a gorgeous waterfall, crack open a Pacifico on the trail, snap tons of photos and pee sitting on a nursing log. It was absolutely breathtaking and I got to do it with my love.

We saw the world’s largest Sitka Spruce tree today. It was really friggin’ huge. On the way to the tree, we completely missed the signs and ended up down a beautiful road containing farms and old trees… and elk. Toby had been dying to see elk (and a cougar, which I did NOT want to see), and there in the road were 20 huge elk just staring us down.

When we stopped in Forks at the chamber of commerce which really only contained Twilight paraphernalia, the lady who worked there told us she had nine dogs and an elk-proof fence that was 12 feet high and had special links or something. Then she told us that the elk still managed to kick her dog in the head through the fence. I did not want to get any closer to the big brown beauties.

We counted 12 eagles on the drive, which took us over ferries, along rivers, and through quaint towns. We stopped at multiple junk stores, and enjoyed each other’s company the entire weekend. My skin felt soft in the crisp mountain air and my hair has never felt more healthy after washing it in truly clean water. It was so gorgeous… Lake Quinault, not my hair.  I can’t wait to go back again for more!

How To Completely Change Your Life in Just Two Weeks

By: Allison Norris

My little (and huge) brother is so cool… getting cooler by the day too. Here’s what happened:

To be totally honest, $55k per year to attend University of Puget Sound in Tacoma, WA was just too much money for my family. My brother is 18 and has no idea what he wants to do with his future (other than be awesome), so walking away with over $200k in loans was just absurd. Not to mention, Tacoma smells (I went to school in Tacoma too) and although the campus is gorgeous, it isn’t where he wanted to be, and he knew it.

My mom sat him down and asked him how much he loved it… $200k worth? While he made some amazing friendships, and loved playing football for the Loggers, he knew he could be doing something more. When he graduated from high school last June, there was so much pressure to attend a four-year university. Pressure to play football, and live in a dorm with the other kids who had just left their homes for college. I agree and understand that this is all very important, but living in San Diego on the beach attending community college to save some cash and have some fun sounds very important as well. Suddenly not attending a four-year right out of high school wasn’t as big of a deal – he realized that nobody really cares, and if they do care, who cares? He didn’t. So he packed his car…

He was snowed in at our mom’s house on Whidbey Island the day he was supposed to drive south to the sun. My parents were panicked and worried about his determination to make the trek over the snowy passes… after killing a few days playing in the snow and even building an igloo, he finally hopped in his jeep and arrived in San Diego two days later.

Just seven days before his arrival, he had made the decision to move. On day five, he signed up for classes at Mesa college, withdrew from his last school, and spent a day making sure of the credits that would transfer and what would happen to his financial aid. Then he left!

He stayed with my fabulous aunt Christy until today… he finished loading the last of his items into his new place last night. That’s right, he found a place just a few houses down from the beach with two guys who go to USD. In the middle of moving, he bopped over to a hot spot cafe called Cafe Mono for a job interview… apparently Lady Gaga was just there for a coffee. Knowing him, he’ll get the job, and they’ll probably make him employee of the week or something by the end of his first week.

My little brother reminded me how important it is to take risks. He’s never been one to do things in order to fit in – being nice to everyone and winning them over with his good looks and charm has kept him at the top of social circles and in good standing with his superiors. And now I know he has balls. I am so proud of him for trusting his gut that he didn’t want to stay at UPS because he wasn’t totally happy… he had been dreaming about something else just a few states away and he did it. He made it happen, and in only two weeks. There won’t be the opportunity to pack up and move away from everything and everyone forever – he has truly seized the day and after trusting his gut, he is picking the “Y” in the road of his life. Insert very cliche quote about following your dreams and making shit happen here.

It has been two and a half weeks since he decided to go and he has a new school, awesome place to live, a new job and a few friends. Success! Can’t wait to live vicariously through my little bro because that’s what I do these days… Each picture text of the beach he sends me makes me daydream about being 18 in southern California with few responsibilities and a beach cruiser… and tan legs… and surfers… and really perky boobs.

My Bay-Be

By: Allison Norris

My baby is now a kid. A boy. I don’t know how it happened, or when, but he’s big and smart and amazing me every day. Singing in the car, operating a laptop or an ATV, helping me put groceries in the cart, or requesting a napkin for his lap – he’s big.

Why does it feel so scary to watch them grow up? Movie after book after mother weeping at her child’s wedding – I now understand the upset of raising a child and having them leave. I know I’m a little ahead of myself here… he’s only 2 and a half… but I’m seeing his passions, his sense of humor and his obsession with “getting bigger.”

He told me yesterday that he had finished all of his dinner so that he could grow bigger and be big like me. He also told me that he would have hair in his armpits some day and then I got grossed out. I don’t want him to have hair anywhere but his head.

I’m so lucky to have a healthy, beautiful, growing child, I know. I’m in amazement that I could create something so wonderful.

I started thinking about day-to-day life as a mom. I am lucky to be able to work less than 20 hours per week and stay at home with him during the day. The question often comes up – so you stay at home with him – what do you do all day?

I remember when I worked for the real estate developer. Every day was busy… emails, facebooking, conference calls, spreadsheets, meetings – the work never ended and I felt this sense of pressure and stress to complete all of my tasks. It’s the same with being at home. I feel stress and pressure to make sure the toys are away, to make sure lunch is at 12:15 and that my laundry is done and put away. Nobody comes over every day… it’s not like I host gatherings or guests from out of town. There really isn’t a reason to vacuum at 5pm every other day, other than to make sure it looks clean and that I have done my jobs. It gives me a sense of importance and structure. It’s the same way while I nanny. Sure, I’m playing with play doh and blocks, but it’s important to be engaged with the babes while they play and to make up fun stories about elephants who can fly. It may not be the same as making million dollar decisions on which finishes will look best in a high-end condo unit, but it’s my new job and it’s important.

We’re watching Finding Nemo (for the hundredth time) because it’s 6:30am… the beginning of my 14-hour work day. Baylor has started making himself the main character of any movie or show we watch. “Look, Mom, I’m swimming away from the whale.” His imagination, sincerity in his beliefs, and need to tell me which characters are good and bad remind me that he is changing and maturing every day. The mess is worth it… the sleepless nights are fine… only buying second-hand clothes – who cares? It’s a pretty fun gig, and it isn’t going to be here forever.

I remember holding his whole body on my lap – even stretched out he didn’t fill the space. Now he’s almost too heavy for me to hold, but I don’t ever want to put him down.

Help! I’ve Lost My Brain

By: Allison Norris

I’m a wreck. No really, I am.

I don’t know what happened to me, but I have never been organized. I always turned my homework in on time, I like my house clean, and am usually pretty punctual (very punctual before Baylor), but have never known where my keys ran off to, or what happened to my friggin’ phone. It seems that the important items in my life have lives of their own and fit me in when it is convenient for them.

My mom isn’t the most organized either. I’m going to go ahead and blame her for not teaching me how to label or hang my clothes in groups by color. Although, my sister keeps everything together and we grew up in the same household, so I guess my blaming game isn’t going to get me very far. I blame my birthday… Leos aren’t the most structured people. We’re more social! More about fun! Except when being unorganized totally ruins the fun and you just end up feeling like a loser.

I realized my passport was lost in 2010 when I missed a trip to Mexico with 10 of my friends. Sucked to be me. You’d think I would have run out and replaced that cute little blue book so that something like that didn’t happen again… but it costs money, and I haven’t been rolling in the dough, so I just put it off until I decided I’d be traveling internationally again.

My best friend Jen invited Toby and me to Whistler, Canada with her and her boyfriend. I’ve had notice. Known about the trip. She sent organized emails. Details. Time lines. Rental numbers and prices for skis. I decided that I’d just get my passport card, or Enhanced Driver’s License. I read on the site that you can get it the same day if you go to a certain office downtown. So I waited. Procrastinated. What was the rush?

Upon looking at all of the requirements online while I was just trying to find the office address, I saw that I needed my birth certificate. No problem! I’d just grab it from my files and get the whole thing done. Oh crap… can’t find it.

A notary, check, and form later, I mailed my birth certificate request to San Diego. It said it would be here in three weeks at the longest and I had three weeks and three days until it was time to drive up to the snowy peaks.

I was going to use my sister’s passport if I didn’t receive my docs by “go time.” But then I read that I could spend up to a year in jail if I got caught. So… that won’t work.

Here I am, on Tuesday… supposed to leave on Friday. No birth certificate. No passport. No enhanced license. No trip to Whistler with my favorite people. If my birth certificate comes tomorrow, I can totally pay $550 to get my passport expedited for Friday. You know, just $550.

What is wrong with me? Why didn’t I get this taken care of before? Why didn’t I just mail in the documents when I missed the Mexican vacation 18 months ago? Who am I?! I feel so stupid! So dumb.

On top of all of this, I got my hair cut on Sunday and I hate it. Absolutely hate it. I feel like Rachel from Friends in 1998. It’s weird.

New lesson: Don’t wait until the last minute. Just don’t do it. I’m going to reprogram my brain, I swear! Or get a personal assistant…

Potty Talk

By: Allison Norris

I can only remember peeing my pants once. Though I’m sure it happened multiple times as a toddler transitioning out of diapers, the only time I remember was when I was eight years old. I was at my best friend Gena’s house for the first time and we were walking down her street pushing dolls in strollers. I can’t remember what let the warmth take over my jeans and then turn to cold, but it happened and I was mortified. I immediately tried to locate a small puddle to “fall” in so that I could wash away the urine with road water and nobody would know what had happened. I think I found a small circle of water in the road, and sat down in it, but Gena’s mom still knew what had happened. She lovingly changed my clothes and didn’t mention it at all.

Potty training is gross. It really is. There’s so much discussion about pee-pee and poo-poo and pull-ups, diapers, big boy underwear, and wearing nothing but pants. There’s a plethora of choices, and so many suggestions and methods for kicking the Pampers. Everything I’ve read says not to push them (especially boys) if they’re not ready, so I keep giving in to whatever mood he’s in regarding what to wear under his pants. We’re on week three or four of consistently going pee in the potty, and number two only a few times. We still need a pull-up for that. He has tried standing to pee, which is very messy. He sits and then says he needs to wipe, which is hard to explain why he doesn’t need to and that only girls do – but in reality, there’s sort of pee all over, so maybe wiping when he’s done would be helpful? He wants to do it by himself, so sometimes, he concentrates so hard that his shirt falls into the stream and he stands up so proud of the pool in the potty with a huge wet circle across his belly. There’s urine all over my bathroom and thank goodness I didn’t invest in a fancy bath mat – it’s sort of become his drip mat.

We’ve only had one accident, and he peed all over my couch. That was a neat clean up process.

When did privacy, shame, embarrassment, and bodily function independence come into play? After Bay peed on our couch, he was devastated. I told him it was fine, changed him, gave him a smooch, and told him to try to go to the potty next time, and then we turned on some music and started stripping the cushions. He cried and apologized, and then he refused to wear anything but a diaper for the next day or so for fear that he’d lose control again. He was embarrassed. My innocent little sweet baby was embarrassed.

Now he’s telling me to leave and shut the door when he goes potty. He asks for a napkin to wipe his face if a crumb lingers. He asks me if his clothes “look cool”. A baby he is not… an aware member of society he is becoming. He cares what people think… only a little, but still. I knew it was only a matter of time, but it just happens so quickly. I wish I could protect him from ever being embarrassed and shield him from shame (maybe shame is alright…). I want him to remember to be himself and to own up to his decisions and that deviating from the “norm” is a-ok with me if it’s what works for him. I’d never given all of it much thought until I saw the devastation in his face after he turned my couch into a urinal. It was like he was hunting for that puddle to sit down in – to blame it on something else.

So many transitions. I told him he can sleep in a big boy bed when he doesn’t need diapers anymore – but really I’m just stalling on the big boy bed because I don’t want him standing at my pillow at 5am to say “good morning.” I’ll probably just get on amazon right now and buy a book about that too. But then what if he starts wetting the bed? Geez. After potty training and big boy beds, am I done with big changes? What comes next? Right when I think I’m caught up, something else changes and I’m scrambling to adjust. I guess this is called parenthood.

Ok gotta run… I have to pee.

Just a Click Away

By: Allison Norris

I figured that because it is Cyber Monday, the aisles of Fred Meyer would be less crazy. It seems unbelievable that it is time to throw extra goodies into the cart for stocking stuffers. It was just August, just my birthday. School just started again, right?

Cyber Monday was real-ish to me last year. I remember going online and finding a few deals, but I didn’t realize that it is an official “thing,” like, something that people look forward to. I guess it hasn’t been around forever since “cyber” has only been accessible to almost everyone in the world for the last 10 years or so. I loved the headlines like, “Record Breaking Cyber Monday…” yeah, because we aren’t really going back that far, now are we? Online shopping has become the only way some people shop. I see the colored amazon crates stacked outside on front porches ready for pick up and then they return, emptied once again only a few days later. This cyber Monday bananas is just one more crazy thing that make people rush around all crazy and cranky because they’re missing some deal somewhere. Although, I did cash in on a Toys R Us gift card from my baby shower for gifts from Santa. Cyber Monday saved me $34 on a buzz lightyear bike. Not bad.

I feel like I just learned about Black Friday too. When did that happen? Maybe it’s because I grew up on Whidbey Island with one stop light and we didn’t have stores that participated? Until college, I thought it was a day in February when we sang happy birthday to Martin Luther King Jr and thank you to Rosa Parks. Really, I thought that.

I heard on the news that some lady pepper sprayed an entire line of people so that she could get into Best Buy first. Clips of ambulances and fire trucks whirling their red lights around in the black early morning sky came onto the TV and I laughed. People are insane. I love a good deal as much as anyone, but there’s no way in hell I need something that bad that I’m going to pepper spray a bunch of people so that I can SPRINT through the automatic doors… unless it was Justin Timberlake on the other side and it was a competition to see who could get to him first. I’d pepper spray everyone. Everyone. I doubt an LG dryer has abs like JT. I’m getting hot just thinking about that – almost like I’m inside of the LG dryer right now!

In Fred Meyer today, I was in the ornament section looking at the different assortment of glittered santas and matching reindeer. Baylor rides in this HUGE cart with 40 wheels that looks like a race car and is impossible to navigate around the tight store aisles. I usually park it off to the side and then shop within a 6 foot radius of the cart as to not leave my child unattended… or unentertained so that he does not throw random things into the cart (learned my lesson on that one… extra marshmallows and black licorice). Today, all of the mamas were shopping, it’s Monday morning. It happens every Monday… the moms throw on their yoga pants, Uggs, hair in a pony and a hoodie and kill 2 hours shopping for groceries. Everyone is pleasant and sometimes the kids smile at each other and make grocery cart friends. It’s great. Well, today on CYBER Monday, there were a few serious shoppers mixed into our mom club… one lady was so apalled by our “car-cart” that she over dramatically stood to one side of the aisle like there were long blades protruding from the rims of the car. I gave her the “yikes… this thing is a whale… sorrry” look and she gave me the tight lipped annoyed face. No smile. Just me wasting her shopping time. I could see the clock dropping a second with each puff of smoke that left her ears, losing money and precious website click opportunities. Our gandering was killing her. This happened at least three more times in the store… people just annoyed that we were in their way because they just clearly had somewhere better to go. So rushed!

Ready to check out, I loaded our goods onto the counter and checked for anything that shouldn’t be in there because of a two-year-old arm. I started bullshitting with Susie, the sweet old black lady checker who called us “honey” and told me I looked “DAMN good after havin’ that baby” and then she gave Baylor 4 stickers. We chatted about how I look too young to have a child and I asked her what that means, anyway. I told that there was a little girl who is 10 years old in Mexico that just gave birth last week and an 11-year-old last year after being raped by her stepfather. (Really, really terrible, and a major topic changer – still not sure if it’s appropriate to randomly bring up – but that is too young to be having babies.) “Chilllren havin’ chilllren. That man needs to be put AWAY! Her mama better leave that nasty man! Lord have mercy!” And then Miss Susie chatted about all of her kids, how comcast has been ripping people off (I couldn’t agree more), reproductive rights in Mexico and the US, and how being alone is better than being married at all (going back to the 10-year-old’s family situation if her mother leaves the stepfather, because Susie obviously thinks she should). All the while, a man is waiting in line behind us HUFFING and puffing. He was ready to blow the whole damn thing down. He was shuffling his feet making obvious position changes like he was salsa dancing or something. After being glared down by the mean lady in the aisle, and a few others because we were leisurly shopping in our race car cart, I just wanted to keep talking to Susie… make the guy wait. It was kind of nasty of me… but I just wanted to take a minute, enjoy my conversation, and be people for a while without somewhere to go! Then Susie knocked an extra 10% off of my total. Guess there’s something to chatting after all.

The holidays come too fast, Baylor is growing up too fast, and people are moving at lightning speed. Online shopping and pepper spraying at the door show me that manners and social decency are becoming a thing of the past. I am already stressed about how many people I can afford to buy Christmas gifts for, and who will hate me if I give them cookies in a pretty bag instead of something wrapped in a box with a bow. I only have 27 more days to buy presents! Hurry! Run! I actually put up all of my holiday decor last week just so it would feel longer and not so hurried. I am going to sip cider, hot cocoa, and bake as much as I can. Bay and I may just make all of our gifts right here at our kitchen table, and I might just avoid shopping altogether.

Happy Cyber Monday! May your cyber carts be full, your paypal accounts emptied, and your emailed receipts archived.

Hey Step-Mama!

By: Allison Norris

My friend Lauren lives in Alaska. I met her at PLU and was immediately attracted to her confidence, witty sense of humor, and ability to “keep up” with the conversation. She is on the board of Planned Parenthood and after losing touch with her after college, she informed me last year that she would be in Seattle for a board meeting. Baylor was just a young pup and we blabbed over eggplant parmesan about all of the things that had happened over the previous 5 years.

Lauren had married a man with two daughters and had become their stepmother, or “anya” as they call her. They have joint custody with the girls’ mother and as the oldest is 14, all three parents are in constant communication about rules and expectations.

Lauren was in town this weekend and we met up twice because the first coffee date just wasn’t enough time to cover everything. I have thought of her since the last time she was in town. I remembered her positive experience with co-parenting as a step-parent. She has a wonderful relationship with her husband’s ex-wife. In fact, Lauren told me that because she is the better planner, she is the one to make all of the schedule plans and adjustments with the girls’ mom. Sometimes, she will even babysit their half-brother if their mom is in a pinch. She told me about the way she moved into their home and was just a friend, only enforcing the rules that already existed until she felt she had enough say to make up and enforce rules of her own. They had a special ceremony during their wedding which included Lauren’s union to the girls as well as to their father. She told me all of this with such love in her voice and pride in the way she discussed her incredible parenting style.

I know that people have children, split, and then remarry and continue to reproduce. I’ve just never thought about how much work it would be… or why anyone would want to jump into a relationship and want to be an immediate parent to a child that isn’t biologically theirs, dealing with ex-spouses and parenting plans. So I asked Lauren. I asked her why she does all of this, and if she likes it. She simply responded, “because I love them.”

She told me that putting the girls first and making rules based on love have been two keys to maintaining a harmonious relationship with all parties. It was all just so evolved and seemingly easy – which is so Lauren, having everything under control – but it still made me so happy to see a modern day, co-parenting family full of such positivity and love.

Her biggest fear? Hearing “I hate you” from their teenager… and maybe talking about sex. Lauren, I hope to find someone as accepting, patient, and amazing as you to complete my family some day. Cheers to step-parents!

Glow in the Dark Bus

By: Allison Norris

We leave our house at 7:14am to arrive right at 7:30 at the home of the family I nanny for. I started in August, so leaving at 7:14 was really no problem – birds were chirping, the sun was (sometimes) shining, and people were out walking their pets and children. Now, it is dark. Cold. I know I should be sleeping. Baylor woke up at 5:15 this morning according to my clock which was just tossed back an hour for daylight savings. I started thinking about riding the bus all the way through high school until I got my license. So dark, and then for a month it would be light again at my stop… until it got dark again.

The earth was always wet and the tall trees blocked any light trying to fight its way into our yard. I would sometimes wake up cold, if the fire had gone out downstairs. The tile on the bathroom floor shocked my feet and chilled my bones while I waited for the water to get warm. A space heater hummed, slowly heating the room. Our shower head made a loud squeal sound that would start ferociously, but died down to a whine by the end of the shower. It was a real bummer the year that something died in or near our pipes and warm misty animal death would waft up through the drain while the squeal joined it in the room. My mom or sister would join the steamy stench to use the toilet or wash their face, making me scream to stop using the water while I was in the shower. Three women. One bathroom.

My sister and I would scramble to find something to wear, often times arguing about who it belonged to. Then a massive hunt through the tub of socks to find a matching pair, but remembering that it wasn’t a PE day, so nobody should notice if one sock had a grey stripe across the toe and the other one didn’t. Wet hair twirled into a bun. Piece of bread with peanut butter wiped across, and out the door I went to wait with the neighbor boys in the dark for the lights of the bus to make their way around the lake that we lived on. Louder and louder it would become as it approached our stop. I’d shiver in my sweatshirt because coats weren’t cool and my hair was still wet. The nearest streetlight was at least 100 yards away, and the darkness from the tree shadows reminded me that I was small. The boys wouldn’t talk and it felt even colder.

Finally the bus found its way to us and the warm air hit our faces as the doors opened. I’d climb inside and find a friend to sit next to. A 20-minute ride full of stops, turns, and bumps started my school day… in the dark.

My sophomore year, I finally figured out that my neighbor across the street could drive and I convinced her to wait every morning for me to run out to her silver car, until I could drive. After that, it was blasting heat and mixed CDs all the way. On my drive to nanny at 7:14, I pass kids waiting on the bustling city streets waiting for their big yellow ride, lattes in hand, faces illuminated by flashing crosswalk signs and headlights.

Although it was dark, and oh so cold, I can appreciate the still silence in the trees against the smooth lake with the nearing sound of a school bus in the background. I can also remember the sound of my mom saying “shit” when that nearing sound was not so near, and had in fact already come and gone.

Happy Halloweenie

By: Allison Norris

We took Baylor to a Halloween carnival at the elementary school a few blocks from my house (yes, the same school as the bitch bullies) for an evening of spooky fun. Everyone was there – like, everyone. Moms, dads, kids, teachers, and random people wandering in from the street bought tickets and made their way around the very sweet event.

Bay participated in almost all of the games, winning a prize at each station just for trying (my psych professor would have a lot to say about that…), and walked away with a bag of holiday junk straight from Oriental Trading. It made me think about the carnivals that my sister and I would go to in elementary school. Spinning the wheel to win a baked good and scooping up rubber ducks in a net to see how many stars were on the bottom of each duck brought me back to the fun of being a kid and really made me feel like a parent.

The costumes were creative and my little blond Shrek had a few fans – kids pointing, screaming, “look Mom, it’s SHREK!” like the ginormous green ogre was actually in the room.

I ran into a guy at Value Village yesterday that my sister used to date. He was with his sexy little girlfriend and they were in the hunt for a last-minute costume.

“Are you going to fright night downtown this weekend?” he asked me as if he was about to suggest that we should meet up there if I was.

“I’m not. What’s that?”

“Oh, this big Halloween party… that’s why we’re here. Trying to pull it together last minute!”

Well. I suppose I could have suggested a few ideas… actually, I should have told them that I was going to the party and I was planning on being a psychic. In fact, I could tell them what they were going to be right this second! Practicing my skills a little.

For you, my pretty, you will be a sexy angel. Very creative. Lots of sparkles and shimmer. Or wait, something coming through on my psychic waves… a cowgirl. With braids. A young boys’ size medium cowboy shirt that will never button shut over your boobs, so you better tie it around your rib cage with a sexy bra underneath. You’ll need very short shorts and cowboy boots. Maybe your boyfriend will be a horse so you can ride him all night long. Now getting an image of a cat… lots of black spandex.

I am so glad that my Halloweens have come full circle and are back to tossing plastic spiders into plastic cauldrons to win a plastic spider. I hated trying to fit in with the genetically blessed bitches with perky everything wearing nothing but panties because they are Victoria’s Secret models for Halloween. I’d try to come up with a “funny” costume… and still wear short shorts because of peer pressure… but would end up getting real wasted because all of the angel dust would end up on my skinny legs, illuminating all of the places where I’d missed my fake tanner. Everyone at these huge parties who was a couple had themed costumes and were sometimes less slutty because they were going home with each other at the end of the evening. Everyone else was free game. The only contests taking place ended with a prize at the “after party” where costumes are optional.

And to think… there was a time when plastic spiders got them excited.

Happy Halloween!

Santa Claus is Coming to Town. With Trucks.

By: Allison Norris

I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of this sooner. Santa Claus is coming to town.

Baylor asked me for new books last night and before I knew it, “maybe Santa will bring them” was leaving my lips. Baylor looked at me and asked, “who is Santa?”

I told him everything. Santa lives in the North Pole, where he builds toys for GOOD boys and girls. He drives a sleigh in the sky with reindeer and lands on roofs where he then climbs through a chimney and leaves the toys that you -when you sat on his lap and whispered in his ear -asked for, under the tree, which is inside of our house covered in balls.

It sounded like madness. What in the crap was I talking about. How did we come up with this story?

Baylor immediately started making his list. Trucks, more trucks, fire trucks, ambulances, remote control trucks and Shrek books. He re-told me how he would sit on Santa’s lap and whisper in his ear… and then Santa would fly away (insert two-year-old plane sound effect here) to the North Pole to build all of his trucks.

He lay in his bed last night and squealed with excitement. In fact he said, “I’m so excited!!!” I told him that Santa wasn’t coming for two and a half months and that he could see him, so he better be good. Then I sang him Christmas carols and he fell asleep.

All morning today, Baylor has been an absolute angel. He has given me at least 15 kisses and spontaneous I love you, Mom‘s without being prompted. Then he retells the story about Santa coming. It’s amazing. He ate all of his lunch and marched into his room for his nap because… Santa is coming. I feel a little guilty, like I’m bribing him and lying to him all at the same time… but hey, Santa is actually coming at some point!

He’s napping right now with a Santa book in his bed with him. Before he drifted off, he found the picture of Santa about to land on a roof, and listed every person he knows and pointed to a house. I can’t wait to break it to him that Santa will be visiting him TWICE – once at Mom’s house, and once at Dad’s. I’m not telling him that until I absolutely have to. My new secret weapon.

Santa, you are awesome.

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