You know it's a good party when the police show up!

All right... I see that it has been almost a year since I posted a blog (!?) and although for a long time it was because I was really busy, nowadays it's because I'm really lazy. Rest assured it is not because my life has become boring! But because I've had a few requests, and because this is a story worth remembering, I present you with the gift of Norah. (It's always Norah.)

Last night, two friends came over with their kids. We were trying to plan an upcoming trip to Austin, and not having a ton of success. I ran out to the gas station and picked up a couple of six-packs of beer, thinking maybe that's just what we needed. (It was not. The trip remains unplanned.) The kids were having a blast, running in and out, and generally leaving us moms alone. Someone ordered pizza, and we all just relaxed and enjoyed a nice summer evening. We were probably about 2-3 beers into the evening when one of the moms walked into the room, holding my old cell phone and saying that Norah called the police. "What?" I said. "Here," she said, and handed me the phone. I can't blame her-- it wasn't her kid that called 911. Sure enough,  the woman on the other end identified herself as Bell County Emergency Services. "I'm so sorry, my daughter has my old cell phone-- there's no sim card in it, but it can make emergency calls. I'm so sorry". I must have apologized about thirty times, because I was really embarrassed and also had consumed three of those Mike's Margarita things. "Well, ma'am, I heard a lot of screaming when I answered the call," says the lady. As I'm totally hanging my head in shame, my friends have an uncontrollable case of the giggles and are trying desperately not to be overheard laughing as I explain that the screaming was just the kids playing, and there was nothing wrong. Well, nothing wrong if you overlook the fact that I was paying no attention to what my daughter was doing, and that I had a houseful of screaming kids at 10:30pm. So the screaming is still going on in the background, my friends are still laughing, and I'm kind of starting to laugh myself when the lady says something like "if you're going to let her play with the phone, you should take the battery out... blah blah blah... and we'll still send someone out to check on you." I hurry to apologize again and say I didn't know she even had the phone and sort of missed that last part. I hung up, and then a second later-- "Wait, did she just say the police were still coming?" (More giggling.) "Seriously, I think the police are coming to bust our party". And I kid you not, my favorite line of the evening courtesy of Angie: "Hide the beer!" Now we're laughing hysterically, because of course we are OLD PEOPLE who have no need to hide the beer, unless it's to help disguise the fact that we are terrible mothers who pay no attention to our kids late at night.

And so we sat back, waiting for the police to come. An officer did show up about half an hour later, and I think he was all ready to give the lecture until he saw that Norah really is pretty little and didn't do it on purpose. I called her over and said, "look what you did-- you were playing with my phone and called the police! Norah, the police came to our house!" And Norah said, "silly mom", and laughed. Yes, this was certainly a shining moment in my pantheon of motherly achievements.

To sign off, I will leave you with one of Norah's earlier pride-inspiring comments: "Mom, what a happy damn day." How could it not be, with a Norah in my life?