tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20800535588521335332012-02-02T21:35:22.258-07:00Nothing else like it, not counting all the others just like it all over the internetReneenoreply@blogger.comBlogger3671100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-82662822919483923102012-01-24T07:15:00.005-07:002012-01-24T07:27:03.412-07:00

This conversation just happened and I rushed to the computer to write it down so I could always remember that time I was a moron:Lennon: Mom can we go see Oprah?Me: Um... we'd have to take a plane to Chicago.Lennon: Is Oprah only in Chicago?Me: Yeah. And actually, we couldn't go see Oprah, because Oprah doesn't have a show anymore.Lennon: That's sad. What do all the singers do?Me: Singers

Reneenoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-39228266070591118122012-01-15T23:38:00.003-07:002012-01-15T23:58:33.215-07:00

I'm doing so much better this weekend, after spending time with friends and family and realizing that I'm not alone. Thank you so much for all of your kind comments and e-mails. I feel the love, and it makes a difference. I got this text from my friend Becca after a really hard night, and it wasn't anything more than just a few simple words of encouragement and love, and I recognized that I

Reneenoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-92096723871465404692012-01-12T08:34:00.003-07:002012-01-12T22:18:38.677-07:00

Rachel, Oh, I got the belly laughs from your e-mail. Belly Laughs are way more fun after gaining holiday weight. So, I guess I've been pretty sad about losing more eyesight. And it's manifesting in ways that make absolutely no sense. Like, when I stepped on a toy in the office, I got so upset that I cleaned out the entire room, and it took me a whole day. This is HIGHLY uncharacteristic of

Reneenoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-13633609047239402462012-01-11T22:12:00.003-07:002012-01-11T22:26:06.611-07:00

Just to give you an idea of the past two days I've had, tonight I stayed up late to watch Mrs. Doubtfire on TV. And I despise Robin Williams. And what's worse? I LAUGHED at stuff. Like, pretty genuinely. Oi. If you'd like to schedule an intervention, please note that I'll be home always, because I go nowhere ever. Which is really, very much, the underlying problem. Also, somebody, besides

Reneenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-85440310085958353792012-01-10T08:21:00.003-07:002012-01-10T08:38:11.519-07:00

Sometimes Lennon and I do this thing where we pass notes to each other that start off really nice, like "Mom, you are the best," "Lennon, you are a beauty queen," and "Mom you are full of rainbows," and then we get sort of silly and pass notes like, "Mom, you are a beautiful turtle" and "You have hair like a gorilla that is pretty." It's good clean fun.This morning Harrison wanted a note, and

Reneenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-21300181370405057062012-01-02T14:03:00.004-07:002012-01-02T14:26:01.722-07:00

Happy New Year, Nerds. Nice to see you again. My lovely sister-in-law, Stephanie, took this picture of our family on our VERY last minute trip to San Diego to see my sister get married. It was such a nice wedding (especially for being planned in about a month). My sister officiated. Lennon dropped petals. Eric played Love Me Tender on the guitar. The groom arranged the bouquet about an

Reneenoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-33878758089899761012011-12-22T12:17:00.003-07:002011-12-22T12:39:47.882-07:00

Nothing like a little bit of last minute Christmas preparation to keep a girl up all night, right? So I made a list of things I needed to get done, and put it on my dresser. It felt more manageable to actually write down "Charge Camera" than to actually go and find the charger and plug the dang thing in. This morning Harrison somehow got his hands on the list and came into the kitchen to tell

Reneenoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-65148178313052648182011-12-12T08:36:00.004-07:002011-12-12T09:12:00.678-07:00

We had a church Christmas Party on Friday. It was a dinner/talent(?) show type thing, and when you do that sort of thing with Mormons, you're fairly likely to get one Evolution of Dance, one to three whipped cream pies to the face, a reference to a PG Will Ferrell moment, and at least twenty unnecessary wigs. During the skit changes (aka waiting for someone to tie shoes to their hands) we had

Reneenoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-12708521128774463902011-11-29T08:50:00.003-07:002011-11-29T09:08:18.555-07:00

Well, let's just say it. Gratitude Blogging was a bust. Between the 16th of November and today, I've been thankful for a great deal of things: Family-Karaoke, Harrison's Kevin Bacon impression, pumpkin cookies, Lennon's new teeth coming in straight, Tivo catching the Lifetime channel holiday movies, friends and family who were willing to give me odd jobs so I can make Christmas work, my best

Reneenoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-28101178249313643992011-11-15T08:30:00.002-07:002011-11-15T09:03:03.700-07:00

November 11 was Veteran's Day, and I was pretty grateful that my mom loves a parade, because she took my kids to see one, and I got an entire day all to myself. Granted, I wasted the day on computer games and trying to get soap scum off the shower door, but I did it alone, and that was HUGE. You know what else I was grateful for? Getting my kids back. I'm honestly a wreck without someone to

Reneenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-37222393694606506062011-11-10T15:21:00.002-07:002011-11-10T16:20:22.899-07:00

On November 8th and 9th I was probably thankful for Tillamook cheese and God (who made such a cheese possible), but I want to hurry up and get to today. Because today I am thankful for perspective. The other day, there was a pre-sale for tickets to a concert I declared on Facebook to be a "MUST." I think I said something about how my 16-year-old self would kick my butt if I didn't go. I woke

Reneenoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-55406423512238864562011-11-07T19:23:00.002-07:002011-11-07T19:45:45.787-07:00

November 3rd I was thankful for funny television. Crappy days are easier when you get to laugh a ton at the end of them. November 4th I was thankful for blankets. Harrison and I were both getting a cold, and the blanket made it that much easier to hide from the rest of the world. Also, it was pretty fun wrapping Harrison in a burrito and pretending to eat his feet. Blankets made that

Reneenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-9542339331119242872011-11-02T19:28:00.006-07:002011-11-02T19:54:36.988-07:00

If this were November 1, I would have told you how I was going to post every day in November (or at least until Thanksgiving Day when the gratitude wears off) about something I was thankful for, and how I usually hate blogging like that, but how I'm kind of a sucker for when other people do it, and besides, who am I to pretend I'm somehow ABOVE that sort of thing? Right? I also would have done

Reneenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-72430073160951712432011-09-23T12:03:00.003-07:002011-09-23T12:54:26.461-07:00

Lennon got a scooter for her 7th birthday. It was a great present from her aunt, because it came totally unexpected, and her cousin/best friend has one exactly like it. Plus, it came in a big box. Shiny, awesome scooter. And it sat in our closet for a good two months. She didn't really get a chance to ride it over the summer. We live in 115 degree weather, and it's not the smartest thing to

Reneenoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-77188716349525916712011-09-13T17:20:00.020-07:002011-09-14T21:10:35.420-07:00

We all know about how funny it can be to blog about gross Sexy Halloween Costumes (still trying to forget about Sexy Border Patrol Worker). But it's been done. Too much. This year, I think it's high time we all laugh about the names of Non-Trademarked Costumes. Note, these are all real, and if you want to buy one, by all means, click the link. Just don't think you can get away with calling

Reneenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-76316659008516053762011-09-07T08:58:00.004-07:002011-09-07T09:17:06.060-07:00

Don't make fun of me for checking Myspace. We get bored around these parts, and this was a step up from our idea to call commercial law firms and ask to speak to "The Eagle." Actually, after finding these pictures on Eric's Myspace picture page, I kind of wish we'd gone with lawyer pranks.The Knowing-I'll-Never-Snuggle-Her-At-This-Age-Again is what hurts the most. Also, that couch looks weird,

Reneenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-3632052979963402882011-08-13T20:30:00.006-07:002011-08-16T11:06:18.281-07:00

This weekend we went to my in-laws' house to spend time with family (and sing a farewell song to our cousin like we were the "damn 'Van' Trapps" as my hilarious sister-in-law put it. But that's another story). One of the topics of conversation was the way that Harrison has been "coming out of his shell." And now he "actually seems to like people." There was always a little bit of a running joke

Reneenoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-18461698873212371582011-07-31T07:59:00.004-07:002011-07-31T08:01:15.692-07:00

Well, my dear daughter, you are in second grade. No more snack time. Longer waits until lunchtime. Not old enough to walk to school on your own, but too old to let you ride in the double stroller, even if your legs DO feel like they're going to fall off. More math. Full sentences expected. Most of your peers know where babies come from, and this year, somebody will tell you about Santa Claus.You

Reneenoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-57650207154529398842011-07-17T10:13:00.002-07:002011-07-17T10:43:13.855-07:00

Has anyone noticed the lack of update? I'm working on something, and it's taking a lot of my energy. I'd be more vague, but, well, you know... But my number one fan has waited so patiently (like a fox), I figured I could throw her a bone. (If you clicked that link, and it wasn't you, and you thought it would be, just remember that YOU probably didn't come all the way from Washington to put

Reneenoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-43027438352534275022011-06-13T20:52:00.003-07:002011-06-13T21:30:54.244-07:00

I turned 29 again. JK! Who even says that anymore? Like is 30 really even considered old anymore? That seems so eighties. My aunt always used to tell us that we shouldn't even think about marriage or kids until we are 30. I made it to 23. And that was me holding out. I don't regret spending my "good years" on starting a family, because I seriously can't even imagine what I would have done

Reneenoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-21605732296682209292011-06-01T11:10:00.004-07:002011-06-01T11:34:31.375-07:00

For the past three days, it has been summer every morning in this house.Which means my kids won't stop yelling at each other. They also fight over everything, from who gets to sit on my left side, to who gets to use the blue bowl for their blueberries. This morning I heard them wake up and turn on the TV, fighting over who got to watch Sesame Street first. No, you read that right. Not who got

Reneenoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-87209020266603816192011-05-26T22:56:00.002-07:002011-05-26T23:39:58.129-07:00

It's late, and everyone is asleep. Harrison is next to me in my bed, his warm hands clenched into tiny fists held over his head, his soft little belly exposed by his undersized dinosaur pajamas. He was sad when I told him he wouldn't be going to school tomorrow, but I get the feeling he'll start to get used to the idea of waking up late, and having plenty of time for pancake breakfasts in the

Reneenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-16465082318195424982011-05-24T08:22:00.002-07:002011-05-24T09:01:07.924-07:00

First, thanks to those of you who sent me such nice emails and comments regarding my last post. If you ever want to know if people read your blog, the trick is to talk about intestines falling out. Mine are not. It's possible that I have a worm living inside them, but they are very much otherwise intact. Second, I'll go ahead an de-confuse some people by just posting this e-mail reply I sent

Reneenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-38838033495394465522011-05-20T12:39:00.003-07:002011-05-20T13:16:03.635-07:00

I am Hank Olson. I was going to "give 'em hell." But I went out of the gates running, with false confidence, and I tired too quickly, and now I'm not quite sure if I'm really even walking anymore. I must be, because I'm not dead yet. All I know is that I'm not ready for the fight to be over. And as I gather the intestines tumbling out of my body, I just keep running. I finally stand,

Reneenoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-15483700473728428352011-05-17T17:56:00.005-07:002011-05-17T18:41:13.791-07:00

I had my eyes checked yesterday morning. My optometrist friend showed me my dying blood vessels, and he helped get me a better prescription. We also did a visual field test for funsies. This is the one where you click the button if you see the squiggly lines that pop up on the screen, first on the outer edges, and then closer in. I clicked the button once. Just once. Unlike the first time I

Reneenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-45422901924438557212011-05-05T08:58:00.005-07:002011-05-05T09:21:52.472-07:00

I love my kids. They hear it all the time. Sometimes I won't let them get homework done or finish building a tower, because I need to interrupt them with rapid fire I-Love-You's. "I love you." "You too, mom." "I love you, Lennon." "I heard. I love you, Mom""I love you, I love you, I love you.""MOM! I'm watching a show!!""Okay. I love you."Harrison usually signs a quick "I love you" without

Reneenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-29693429632709882902011-05-04T08:10:00.004-07:002011-05-04T09:56:41.070-07:00

The kids go to school at the same time every day. They've been doing this for months. Years. That time has never changed. It always take eight minutes to walk to the flagpole, and Harri's bus always arrives at our front door ten minutes after Lennon's first bell. And yet, every single morning, without fail, I run around like a druggie who lost his needle, never quite grasping the concept

Reneenoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-81673497645979726112011-05-03T11:52:00.003-07:002011-05-03T12:32:16.392-07:00

So my brother's band made it to England. Some of you know about this, because you've been following me on facebook. For others, this is the first you're hearing of it, and you sort of resent me for keeping you out of the loop. For those, may I say, welcome to just a little taste of what it's like being my brother's sister. That kid tells me nothing, unless he's super bored and it's Mother's

Reneenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-69405065450630597212011-04-25T22:06:00.003-07:002011-04-25T22:47:14.229-07:00

So one of the hardest things about losing one's sight is the independence that is taken away from someone who can't get to the places they need to get to. I have never driven, because my eyesight has always been terrible enough to deter me from getting behind the wheel. I had a boyfriend who tried to teach me how to drive in his giant red truck, because he thought I was just scared, and needed

Reneenoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-23518476359049544652011-04-25T16:04:00.002-07:002011-04-25T16:06:32.988-07:00

It bothers me when I read a sign on a storefront that says "We'll be back soon" when "Will be back soon" just seems more appropriate. How about you? Do you have a preference?

Reneenoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-50473482149853674942011-04-15T13:45:00.002-07:002011-04-15T14:14:40.114-07:00

We live by a school. On days when I need to feel independent, this is wonderful. I am able to walk to the school and participate in PTO meetings and parent-teacher conferences, without needing to ask someone for a ride. I can walk to the school and eat their delicious lunch (no-foolin', cafeteria food is my favorite), and it's awesome when I know they're having cinnamon rolls for breakfast.

Reneenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-66047480127450319852011-04-07T19:23:00.002-07:002011-04-07T20:59:26.538-07:00

Lennon has a homework assignment every week which includes creating sentences using her spelling words. Many of these sentences have given me insane amounts of joy, i.e. "President Obama is a president." (Duh.) (Also, so cute.) I also really enjoyed "You never know when turtles are sleeping." Like I said, insane amounts of joy. Tonight, Lennon approached me and asked, "Mom, is it okay if I

Reneenoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-69142018423770287522011-04-05T16:41:00.004-07:002011-04-05T17:30:51.763-07:00

I just got a comment from Melissa K. asking me about whether or not I'd like a Guide Dog, and instead of addressing her comment in my comments, I took it here. Thanks for asking the question, Melissa. I have been reading a blog for about a year from a woman who has gone through what I'm going through now (RP, young kids, ... all of it), and she does it with so much poise and power, it's going to

Reneenoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-57573669792670550612011-04-01T20:45:00.005-07:002011-04-02T10:52:43.532-07:00

I did a little bit of thinking about my sight this week. It's been really sad. I am fine Today, and sometimes the Yesterdays sucked, but even though are okay. I'm even fine with Tomorrow. What bothers me is Far From Now. A time that I can't even fully comprehend, because it feels so far away. It may never come. I could die before this moment. The times I'm dreading are so far away, the

Reneenoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-37506185238036667592011-03-31T09:46:00.002-07:002011-03-31T11:12:29.629-07:00

Did you guys ever read those books, where you read the story from the protagonist's POV, and then you flip the book over, and it's, like, the wicked witch's story, all like, "I wasn't going to eat those kids, but the truth is, if I hadn't, they would have destroyed Freedom as we all know it"? Mrs. Mouthy and her husband came to visit last weekend, in order to make or break a friendship kindled by

Reneenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-10647121089408622552011-03-28T12:46:00.004-07:002011-03-28T13:51:57.454-07:00

We put Harrison in soccer this spring, per recommendation of therapists, parenting websites, and every cheesy 80's cliches of the nuclear family. He's only gone to three practices so far, but he is doing really well. I think it helps that he's on a team with his two "best bests" and that he's known his coach since he was a least a foot shorter, but I mostly credit the fact that he's a born

Reneenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-50791140427205155142011-03-27T18:57:00.005-07:002011-03-27T21:40:46.234-07:00

Hey you guys, seriously, Rebecca Black lives inside my mind now. No kidding, she is setting up IKEA furniture right by the parietal lobe, as I write this now. She's thinking of sewing some purple curtains and installing a mini-bar. Duh, for cereal, guys. She's like, 12. Harrison found it on our TiVo. And it's just one button to press to get it started. So of course, he's been playing it

Reneenoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-93955650098802342011-03-24T06:29:00.001-07:002011-03-24T06:29:00.175-07:00

Let's talk some more about how much I love these little cusses, shall we?My sister took some random pictures last week when she came to visit, and I feel like she truly captured their spirits. (Not literally, duh. Cameras only do that to my superstitious grandma.)For example, Lennon happened to be wearing that dress she's recently fallen back in love with. I also just saw this dress in a

Reneenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-23040469194510863092011-03-23T07:29:00.003-07:002011-03-23T07:37:20.783-07:00

Do you ever feel like regressing a few years and using the word "Peeps"? I almost did it. I'm only telling you that, because it takes away some of the sting of embarrassment. Annnnnyway, I'm not here today, because I'm guest posting at Team Boo, who I think I love. She just called me Tina Fey/Janeane Garafalo... and I don't even mind if she's just stating, in the nicest way, that I have brown

Reneenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-33681474946368244662011-03-17T17:51:00.004-07:002011-03-23T19:24:09.654-07:00

I've been sworn to secrecy on this one. Not allowed to tell a soul. But I sort of needed to post this semi-cryptic picture, and let the person responsible for this particular smile in on the moment. And here's what else I need to say. I am touched. In a big way. So often, we rely on Acts of God to reinforce that little, tiny, mostly-quiet gut feeling that we're not totally in this alone. That we

Reneenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-19703865269166131552011-03-04T14:23:00.005-07:002011-03-04T19:01:58.628-07:00

You know what my kids like these days? Gogurt. And you know what I'm feeling a lot of? Gogurt Hatred.First, Gogurt is trashy. Let's face it. My kids are DRINKING sugary sour cream from a plastic tube with a Nickelodeon character's face on it. That right there is enough to be, like, "I give up, here kids, have some Crocs. Have all the Crocs." Second, the name Gogurt makes me cringe to the

Reneenoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-17066117235121807352011-03-02T08:43:00.004-07:002011-03-02T09:08:39.659-07:00

If you follow me on Twitter or Facebook, you'll know that I sent my son to his first day of preschool this morning. What you won't know is that I'm now sitting in my empty house, sort of enjoying the quiet. This doesn't mean I didn't get weepy when we stood at the curb together, facing the sun, holding his tiny, warm hand, waiting anxiously for that little yellow bus to round the corner. It

Reneenoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-30311610154444412932011-02-28T19:53:00.005-07:002011-02-28T20:18:08.432-07:00

(While watching 101 Dalmatians)L: Mom, that lady should have gotten her drivers' license. M: I don't think they give those to crazy people. L: Is that why you don't have one? L: Can I live there? What's it called?M: London? L: Yeah London. Wait, dogs can talk in London?M: Only the smart ones. L: I can tell you're lying, because then EVERYONE would live there.H: Pess Pay! Pess Pay

Reneenoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-1418813000603107452011-02-26T08:26:00.003-07:002011-02-26T09:16:00.966-07:00

Harrison turned 3 yesterday. He really enjoyed the story of his birth. Which I never really wrote out for him. Instead I wrote this: (repost from March 3, 2008.) Red Fish died while I was in the hospital. I'm not surprised, since he was on his way out (Fishy Depression) since Black Fish took his trip to Guppy Heaven. Just one of the many changes that has taken place since February 12,

Reneenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-50847760727604854022011-02-21T16:39:00.006-07:002011-02-21T19:49:56.827-07:00

In case you forgot why you come to my blog, it is my pleasure to remind you, with this dose of the latest in family shenanigans.Lennon and Harrison decided that today was the perfect day for a "Fancy Boat Ride." And so Lennon dressed in her loveliest of dresses (which she hasn't worn since she was 3), and Harri was donned in (her) finest coat and hat, and they set sail. She asked me to

Reneenoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-83573778809199692512011-02-17T18:21:00.007-07:002011-02-17T18:54:08.568-07:00

I realize I haven't talked about Harri's evaluation yet. It's not really a story, but if I don't address it, I won't remember that you guys will have no idea what's going on when I talk about other semi-related stuff.I got a call yesterday from the preschool evaluation coordinator, and she told me we needed to have one more meeting, and that, even though she's not supposed to say so, Harrison

Reneenoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-90608140440227187532011-02-14T10:34:00.001-07:002011-02-14T10:36:37.567-07:00

Aw is Ruff

Reneenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-62604652495926506212011-02-13T20:14:00.006-07:002011-02-13T20:31:09.779-07:00

Eric went to Utah to see his Grandpa Myron get married, and since we're trying to save a little dough, I stayed home with the kids this weekend. Here's a little rundown of how that weekend went down:Harrison learned how to tell people he's 2. Lennon got her first corsage. My dad wore a pink shirt. I tried on antique Sunday hats and ate baked goods with friends. My mom, sister, and I scraped

Reneenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-47400260345376342452011-02-07T15:19:00.004-07:002011-02-07T16:02:11.831-07:00

Harri has the last of his speech evaluations tomorrow morning. This is a tricky one, because, on the one hand, we'd love to have the evaluators say, "My, how he's progressed!" and then sign off on the form that says he was merely taking the name Harrison too literally, and he fully understands now that he no longer needs to play the role of The Quiet One, and even his love of sitars is optional.

Reneenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-38448786255862422732011-02-05T12:31:00.004-07:002011-02-05T12:57:34.942-07:00

NBC's Who Do You Think You Are aired its Season 2 Premiere episode last night, and can I tell you? I am so excited for this show. I watched last season loyally every Friday night, and then I would go online and watch the episode again. It is my absolute favorite show on television. Celebrities, Genealogy, History, Archivists and their adorable bow ties, Crying, Laughing, Hugging. It's just

Reneenoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-47580065890949220222011-02-04T18:34:00.003-07:002011-02-05T12:31:49.404-07:00

I helped out in Lennon's classroom this morning, which is always a fantastic reminder that I'm so glad I don't teach, and those who do deserve more than an apple-scented candle at the end of the year, but that that's a good place to start. I helped with the Art Masterpiece program, which is a once a week deal, that lets the kids have Art. If it wasn't for the parent volunteers, our kids

Reneenoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-25828729695710059132011-02-03T08:50:00.004-07:002011-02-03T09:10:11.689-07:00

I'm about to admit something that is so, so shameful. So shameful. So so so.... You get the point. I'm shamed. Harrison is addicted to Coca-Cola. And I'm not saying this like, "He really likes the stuff." I'm saying this like, "The boy gets withdrawals and freaks out when he sees it." I'm not even going to make a funny exaggeration here comparing him to the guys in Trainspotting, because

Reneenoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-71561437261871852882011-01-31T08:42:00.004-07:002011-01-31T08:57:58.929-07:00

Who are we bloggers, if not promoters of stuff we want to succeed? In other words, if you're allowed to talk about soap, I'm allowed to share the Band of the FUTUREYes, the bass player is my brother. Yes, I'm biased in this sense. But I dare you to tell me these guys don't strike a nerve. Plus, if they get famous, and show up on Jimmy Kimmel, I might be one step closer to letting Jimmy know

Reneenoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-53373686635574212662011-01-30T17:15:00.002-07:002011-01-30T18:12:03.804-07:00

We emptied our bookcases, our CD shelves and our closets, and had ourselves a good old fashioned Purging yesterday, and you know what I found out, that all of you already knew? People will buy weird crap, and they will act weird, doing it. I tweeted my weekend, but for those of you who don't follow me there, to sum up, pretty much it was the most boring 5 hours of my life, and I made $90. A

Reneenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-37250301421831997022011-01-26T08:58:00.004-07:002011-01-26T22:05:04.448-07:00

Want to get really depressed? Come along with me as I search Craigslist for a little bit of spending cash: Auditions for females ages ( 21-29)Date: 2011-01-21, 9:44PM MSTA local talent agency is looking for females with a "Baywatch" look and between the ages of 21-29 to audition for supporting roles in a movie. You MUST have an athletic body, be "busty". You also cannot be signed with another

Reneenoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-47154454961985119922011-01-24T09:33:00.003-07:002011-01-24T10:01:37.546-07:00

GOOD MORNING! Especially a good morning to whoever left cookies at my door yesterday. They tasted suspiciously like Irene's cookies, but I'd hate to cheat someone out of credit for these. Even though the best compliment in the whole wide world would be that your cookies taste like Irene's. Receiving cookies at my door made me think (what doesn't, amirite?):I am surrounded by good people.

Reneenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-28942814564022518792011-01-22T20:55:00.006-07:002011-01-22T21:09:46.092-07:00

Lots of emotions in the last couple of weeks. Which is what comes of multiple funeral services and Goodbyes and Letting Go. Grief is running its course. I think, instead of getting into it, we'll just do one of these. Thanks.

Reneenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-15239722679483724142011-01-18T08:23:00.003-07:002011-01-18T09:07:18.298-07:00

On the fourth day of New York, Eric and I made it a point to relax.Which meant a two-hour walking tour of South Brooklyn Heights. But it was more of a stroll, really. REALLY. We took the tour from Gotham SideWalks, and it was absolutely perfect. We were lucky to take part in Open House New York, which is the absolute, hands down, best time to visit the city. They open up all the historic

Reneenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-40567452886162392702011-01-17T08:14:00.004-07:002011-01-17T08:51:04.919-07:00

My aunt passed away last week. I don't want to eulogize her here, because a blog post wouldn't do her justice. Suffice it to say, I miss her.Funerals always get people thinking about stuff though. Death, Life, Meaning, Purpose,How You're Going To Wear Your Hair When You're Old... It's all wrapped up in a couple of weekends, where we all eat our feelings. My feelings amount to approximately

Reneenoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-67555148890646906712011-01-16T11:17:00.002-07:002011-01-16T11:30:21.906-07:00

And I am now, OFFICIALLY, no longer going to be scheduled at the blind school. The days are mine again! And lo, the heavens did open and the angels did sing. I nearly quit, about sixteen different times, and I just want to sit here and revel in the fact that I didn't throw in the towel. I finished. It was hard, it was emotionally and physically exhausting, and it cost me nearly $2,000 in

Reneenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-381543644143292282011-01-10T18:05:00.006-07:002011-01-11T07:42:40.797-07:00

I tried baking something, per your suggestions. You guys should have known better. Thought I'd dip my toe in with a batch of cinnamon rolls, recipe courtesy of the always lovely Paula Deen. And I screwed it up. Scalded milk + Add egg = scrambled eggs. I didn't know that. Gross. Other things I didn't know:*Yeast, if it doesn't froth up, isn't worth using. *Don't start until you know you

Reneenoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-6936244633766362252011-01-07T12:23:00.005-07:002011-01-07T13:08:43.362-07:00

Huh. Turns out, when you don't have Tivo, you actually end up watching more TV, because you're obsessed with not missing the TV that Tivo catches for you. So instead of checking my local listings (HOWDOYOUDOTHAT???) and planning TV time accordingly, I now fully understand why I watched as much Andy Griffith Show and Ricki Lake as I did when I was a kid. As a result of the constant TV-watching

Reneenoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-88776935970884822622011-01-05T13:53:00.005-07:002011-01-05T16:34:49.917-07:00

Let's talk for a moment about all these dying fish and birds, can we? The New Years' birds, at first, I got that. Something freaked them out. They died of heart attacks, mid-flight, and it was creepy, but kind of Metal, so not completely worrisome. Then the fish come in wafting in, all eyeless and starved, and we're getting a little spooked. Anderson Cooper interviews Kirk Cameron about it,

Reneenoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-82185542735499946092011-01-03T09:06:00.003-07:002011-01-03T09:23:46.257-07:00

The kid is back in school. I'm not loving it. I think it just reminds me of how old these two are getting. Harrison is going to start preschool in a couple of months, and I'm going to be here at home all alone. Cleaning, or something. While someone else gets to play with them, and teach them stuff, and hear all the cute things they do and say. What kind of bum deal is that? What's the

Reneenoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-44692568748897213412010-12-30T14:00:00.003-07:002010-12-30T14:04:46.952-07:00

Am I serious about wanting another child, what with the chance of losing more sight as a result, and the struggles I have with PCOS and miscarriages and early delivery and c-sections, and the full plate I've already got with Eric going to Optometry school and my own desire to get a Master's degree, and the heap of other issues I'm not even addressing? Do I really want this? Does the Pope wear a

Reneenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-80119664817137817092010-12-29T11:58:00.003-07:002010-12-29T12:38:08.329-07:00

I just have way too many unposted posts. I'm going to be better about just publishing them, no matter what. That's going on my New Year's Resolution List, right alongside:2. Less TV. Broken Tivo sort of made this resolution for me, but I feel like not giving myself SOME credit is like not gloating that you lost ten pounds the last time you had the stomach flu. You gotta get SOMETHING out of

Reneenoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-69635807973667622542010-12-23T15:39:00.002-07:002010-12-23T16:16:26.424-07:00

Ha. Punny.----I was, as you may remember, supposed to be done with my time at the School for the Blind back in September. Of course, nothing really turns out the way you think it's going to turn out, and so I'm still in attendance there. At this point, I'm not loving it. I feel like I'm no longer learning anything useful, and my days there leave me more anxious and annoyed than anything else.

Reneenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-59267649722432285232010-12-18T19:34:00.002-07:002010-12-18T20:15:23.193-07:00

Funny how kids are way more resilient than moms think they'll be. We explained to Lennon that the unicorn thing just wouldn't work out this year. Eric offered to take her to the toy store, so she could find something very specific to ask for from Santa. This was met with great enthusiasm, and an unexpected amount of understanding. She picked out a $5 husky dog. Done. We went to the mall to

Reneenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-41899196140456371512010-12-14T06:43:00.002-07:002010-12-14T07:13:54.810-07:00

It was easy to explain to Lennon that Santa couldn't bring her a playhouse for Christmas. Santa, after all, makes and buys presents for everyone, and he has to be realistic. Even Santa has a budget and limited sleigh space. Eric and I spent most of November with our eyes peeled for the buck deer she asked for instead. Just a small one, was the explanation. One that can play a good Grown-Up

Reneenoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-83268905909424337712010-12-13T16:13:00.004-07:002010-12-13T16:52:14.961-07:00

1. Geez, Lennon. Just let me play with that for a little while and then I'll give it right back. Don't be such a toymonger. 2. Thomas the Tank Engine is the only thing I ever want to watch, so stop asking me what I want to watch, and just put it on Thomas the Tank Engine. Thanks.3. This isn't pizza. I wanted pizza. We are not friends.4. Justin Beiber totally gets me. 5. Why are we

Reneenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-15626865094302804002010-12-12T13:48:00.005-07:002010-12-12T14:09:59.780-07:00

Things That Are Broken:1. My glasses. They snapped in half. In half, you guys. I'm wearing a prescription that is nearly five years old. Christmas lights are tripping me out, all fuzzy and drunk-glasses-y. It is SUCH a good thing I don't drive. 2. The Buck deer of our two Christmas Lights deer. Now who are the punk neighbors going to mount onto the doe so that I can once again explain to

Reneenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-75628935616809744692010-12-06T09:54:00.004-07:002010-12-06T10:15:32.221-07:00

I was just explaining that I think some blogs write themselves, what with all the zany adventures and cleverly misunderstood children's wordplay, and the potty training, and my life, lately, has just not felt "blogworthy." Because most people don't want to hear about how I've changed my mind AGAIN on whether or not to start a Master's degree, and how Harrison's arm didn't stink when he got the

Reneenoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-62100960614002694302010-11-23T17:49:00.003-07:002010-11-23T18:07:17.294-07:00

The first grade musical was called A Barnyard Moosical, and so of course, I already loved it, even if it didn't include Lennon dressed as a goat in a chef's hat, delivering quite a bit of sass while singing about pigs who shake their milkshake. Her line was, "Most goats eat garbage and clothes off the line. Tin cans and paper, that's how most goats dine." Probably as long as I live, I will

Reneenoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-53141506575940172352010-11-10T18:33:00.003-07:002010-11-10T18:49:09.249-07:00

1. Harri broke his arm on a trampoline. I blame Newton and that stupid apple. 2. He has a cold right now, and is using his cast as a "kleenex sleeve." YOU CAN'T TELL ANYONE!!! It's super gross, and I want to die. 3. My friend and her husband will hopefully be helping me make my house pretty in the year 2011. I have a lot of excitement about this. But mostly, I keep thinking, "They are

Reneenoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-4352648387259131512010-10-21T15:12:00.002-07:002010-10-21T15:21:41.702-07:00

Just for an update:The costumes are done, except for some minor tweaks (the hat MUST be yellow). And I have my friend Sarah, and her amazing Mother-in-Law Allison to thank. I was all, "Can I bring this pattern over, and we can think about some different options?" and she was all "Bling! It Is Done." And I rubbed my eyes and disbelief and picked my jaw up off the floor, and lo and behold,

Reneenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-86473822355173876402010-10-16T10:53:00.003-07:002010-10-16T11:58:55.128-07:00

"Our life together, is so precious, together. We have grown. Oh we have grown.Although our love is still special, Let's take a chance and fly awaySomewhere alone."-="(Just Like) Starting Over" John Lennon We woke up later than we wanted to on Saturday, and so began one of the most beautiful days I've ever had. The 9th of October is our wedding anniversary. We picked the day, because we're John

Reneenoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-86830244714031531592010-10-15T06:45:00.004-07:002010-10-15T07:43:05.435-07:00

We woke up later than I wanted to on Friday, and so began a hard, hard day.Eric and I decided Friday would be a museum day. I had only really wanted to go to the Museum of Modern Art and the Museum of Natural History. We also stuck in a small John Lennon exhibit at the Peavey. The MOMA started out just fine. We got to bypass the long line to get in, because having a cane can be awesome. Eric

Reneenoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-79357421610210510842010-10-14T15:06:00.007-07:002010-10-14T16:24:15.990-07:00

Sorry, no pictures. I just don't have the energy. Have you ever walked around New York? It's cruel. My feet want to fall off. I'm honestly still recovering.So I'm doing this write-up of my Vacation in 4 parts, because describing the whole experience in one post is just too much. It should be noted that the days get better. I promise. I should begin by saying that Eric made a promise to me

Reneenoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-13890282237745603322010-10-11T21:55:00.001-07:002010-10-11T21:56:36.429-07:00

I was in New York. You're getting pictures and stories. But first: Jet Lag. Hardcore Jet Lag. See you in the morning.

Reneenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-33429316592644013832010-09-22T12:44:00.004-07:002010-09-22T17:46:25.074-07:00

I am starting on the kids' costumes, which, if you're a mom, might be slightly misleading. I am starting on the kids' costumes for THIS year. Yeah, 2010. No, for Halloween. The Halloween in October. Yeah, I know. See, for those who have never tried to sew their kids' costumes with the skills of a 14-year-old in freshman Home Economics, this is way, way, way too late. I am asking for

Reneenoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-30772704360443156432010-09-21T13:38:00.004-07:002010-09-21T14:03:44.638-07:00

Things are not awesome right now. Pretty far from. But we're coping, and I have an amazing husband who makes life so much easier. I took a week off from Blind School. I was suffocating from Mommy Guilt, and I needed to put my kids first. It's only Tuesday, and I already see a difference in the way they are behaving. Lennon told me this morning that I could drop her off at the flagpole, which

Reneenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-73002667229278719552010-09-16T15:10:00.002-07:002010-09-16T15:18:12.901-07:00

So I posted this on Facebook and then realized it should have been a blog post, but I can't take it back, so I'm doing the next best (worst) thing, and just reposting it here on my blog: Renee Brunner VanAusdal After Harrison's speech therapy appointment today, I'm not entirely convinced the kid isn't telepathic. And I'm only being half-snarky.59 minutes ago · Comment · LikeBenjamin Bishop

Reneenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-91468891750260415102010-08-26T08:30:00.003-07:002010-08-26T09:11:38.948-07:00

Yesterday, my mobility instructor and I went to Eric's work to teach him some techniques for helping me around. It was An Experience. Nothing really happened. Nothing touching, or scary, or funny. It's only a story, because it happened. My husband learned how to lead his blind wife. To a seat. In a crowd. Up the stairs. On the elevator. We worked on some things, and then we were done,

Reneenoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-10350601238233725282010-08-21T08:26:00.003-07:002010-08-21T09:00:35.073-07:00

I listen to music on my way to school every morning, because it keeps the guy who hates Mormons from talking to me. It's Eric's iPod, not mine, and so most mornings I end up shuffling through The Avett Brothers and the soundtrack to Les Miserables, thinking to myself how much I wish I had my own iPod, so I could fill it with "not The Avett Brothers" and the soundtrack to Les Miserables. Eric

Reneenoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-62626690642140536752010-08-17T06:13:00.002-07:002010-08-17T06:17:23.981-07:00

This morning, I woke up and was like, "Nope, I'm not putting on shoes. I don't care. Shut up. Go away. Shoes *grumble*." Then I watched this video. Now then... Where are those shoes?

Reneenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-17947459891339695932010-08-12T16:51:00.007-07:002010-08-12T18:38:52.281-07:00

Miss America: Hi, I'm Lennon. My mom can't see so well, but that doesn't mean she doesn't like Target. Yankee Doodie (because of the diaper) Dandy: YEAH! MOM!Miss America: Sometimes my mom wishes she could just go to Target and be able to buy things like clothes that fit, and fresh bread, and glue sticks, but she can't. You know why? Because her Orientalation & Mobitee teacher said it

Reneenoreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-88551343884474587852010-08-11T19:03:00.004-07:002010-08-11T19:27:01.735-07:00

Thanks for the words of encouragement. I feel so much better today. When I got home, I sat down with Lennon and asked her about her day. She had invented a reason to get out class and go to the nurse's office. "Spicy Throat," she called it. I told her it sounded absolutely terrifying, and I'm so glad she was able to stay in class so she didn't have to miss anything fun. She agreed, sort of

Reneenoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-70490319219811190592010-08-10T20:58:00.003-07:002010-08-10T21:12:20.388-07:00

You guys, I'm losing her. She is only five, and I'm already losing her innocence and her sweetness and her charm. She doesn't have a set schedule. Half the days, she doesn't even know who will pick her up from school. Sometimes she gets home, and I am so tired that I just want to lay down on the couch, so I turn on the TV, and she is absorbed by Spongebob for two hours. Then we sort of eat

Reneenoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-21214537645153346032010-07-31T17:16:00.002-07:002010-07-31T17:43:50.514-07:00

Last week my family got a bit of a windfall of furniture. This week, I am still freaking out about it. See, the stuff we got was NICE. Like, REALLY NICE. But it was too big for my small space (imagine putting Barbie Dreamhouse Furniture into a shoebox. And not even an LA Gear shoebox. We're talking Payless shoebox. For flats. Toddler size flats. I am good at analogies). So we did the

Reneenoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-1314271357373679612010-07-22T07:26:00.002-07:002010-07-22T07:43:32.861-07:00

Here's another way you don't want to spend an hour. Coming back to my blog to give me a chance to vaguely amuse you, and seeing that that same stupid Post Title is there. Sorry all.Okay, so I'm in the midst of a crisis of faith. I want to be home with my kids so so so so so bad, especially now that the summer is over, and Lennon is starting school again, but I also know that I'm probably

Reneenoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-16182338846869504132010-07-10T20:08:00.004-07:002010-07-10T20:48:22.604-07:00

Sarah at Gilbert Giggles used to write about her funny bus stories, but now that she's a Stay At Home Mom, her adventures in bussing have come to an end, and I feel like the internet is a sadder place because of it. So I'm going to make a feeble attempt to fill that void with this story:You guys know how I'm in training for mobility, right? And I mentioned on Facebook that as part of that

Reneenoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-60360052797728018932010-07-05T15:46:00.003-07:002010-07-05T16:11:30.001-07:00

Have you met my son, The Mute Genius? A couple of speech and occupational therapists did, this afternoon, and Harrison decided this would be a prime opportunity to behave like a child who not only doesn't want to speak, but who can't bother to speak. Or make eye contact, or engage in any way, really. Or, oh I don't know, NOT make elaborate block sculptures after we explained that we don't

Reneenoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-41543074018315803182010-07-01T22:54:00.004-07:002010-07-02T00:33:31.201-07:00

My friend Keiko posted a Soundtrack to her Life on her blog, and I was inspired. I can't really think of major players and events in my life without a song to accompany that thought. Here are some of the ones that shaped my formative years:We Built This City (On Rock and Roll) - Jefferson Starship: This is the song of my childhood. I have two older sisters, and there were both really into

Reneenoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-47068501840929563062010-06-18T05:03:00.003-07:002010-06-18T05:51:35.052-07:00

What is going on with this Renee girl? Geez, it's like, she finally has something to talk about, and then she goes M.I.A. I give up. I'm reading NieNie. ...is what you would say, if you weren't awesome. Thanks for your patience, people. I have been wanting to write something for a while, but I couldn't think of a funny way to talk about how my kids hate my guts and my guts hate my life (

Reneenoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-56604979979711012292010-06-07T16:29:00.008-07:002010-06-07T17:24:52.439-07:00

Let's talk a little bit about the blindness thing, in terms of Media accessibility. Now, on the one hand, I'm going to a school that is quite forward thinking, technologically-speaking. Many of the Tech teachers are familiar with the Macbook, and they are willing to teach me how to use one with Universal Access programs. They are also excited about iPads and smartphones, just like you might be

Reneenoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-10504779122483771922010-06-05T10:43:00.002-07:002010-06-05T11:17:00.321-07:00

Typical schedule: 5am Wake Up. Turn off alarm six times. 5:30am Wake Up for real. Take shower. Dress. Eat Breakfast. 6am Cab driver knocks on door. I take five minutes of everyone's time to find my cane. It's under the couch. It's always under the couch. 6:20am Cab driver makes second pick up. Too early. So we wait in the car for twenty minutes. Like schmucks. 7:00am Cab

Reneenoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-400584636174135802010-05-29T08:48:00.004-07:002010-05-29T12:26:55.963-07:00

I have much to say about school and what wearing a blindfold does to the back of my hair and what it's like to be the poorest person I know (daycare is expensive, yo, especially when you're not bringing in any income to offset it), and other bloggity stuff, but instead I am going to take this three-day weekend as an opportunity to vacation from thinking about it. Any of it. In fact, I'm

Reneenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-20294048488884883432010-05-25T21:09:00.002-07:002010-05-25T21:27:06.707-07:00

So, this is actually supposed to be a Mommy Blog, or at least Mommy Blog -ish, and I have failed miserably in this area. But I have something Mommy-ish tonight!! I DO!!Lennon Marie graduated from KINDERGARTEN!!! And I bawled! And I laughed! And I mostly bawled! It was a knife in the heart of that part of my soul that believes my kids will just stay little and cute and plushy and knee-dimply

Reneenoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-8655518614589612092010-05-21T06:04:00.002-07:002010-05-21T06:52:33.207-07:00

Just so everyone knows, Sarah's wing wind is gone. Becca, you'll be happy to know, I caved hard on Thursday on the sweets. I needed a soda like that damn cat needed to pee on my brother-in-law's tomato plant. Huh? It's cool, you don't have to get my analogies. Just know that I am weak when it comes to sugar. Moving on. My first week at Blind School is over. It was earth-shattering. In a

Reneenoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2080053558852133533.post-51019057051831211642010-05-18T18:15:00.000-07:002010-05-18T18:15:00.393-07:00

My friend Sarah is having fun WITHOUT sweets, for 30 days. Even though this could turn into that scene in Trainspotting with the creepy ceiling baby, I have decided to join her in her efforts. It's always good to do something like this when you're friends are involved, and I don't want to become her Sugar Friend who she feels like she has to avoid, the way alkies avoid their Party Friend, or

Reneenoreply@blogger.com7