Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

I desperately wish that I could turn off my mind. I really think that God should have given us each a little switch. Too bad He didn't consult me on that.

I realize it has been almost two weeks since my last post. I wish I could say we've been having fun. But, we haven't. Isaac is so cute when he falls asleep at night. He pulls the covers up to his little chin, and tucks himself in, then wiggles with happiness and looks at me with a big smile. And then, in the blink of an eye, we've slept very little, it's approximately six o'clock a.m. and Isaac is in yet another bad mood. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. That's what my life feels like--except it has nothing to do with washing hair.

People have been asking me repeatedly (see, there's a theme to this post), "why is he crying?", "what's wrong with him", "is he tired....hungry....hurt somewhere--ANYWHERE"...WELL HOW THE BLEEPETY BLEEP, BLEEP DO I KNOW?!

Oh, by the way, if you haven't already caught on, this is an angry post.

Please stop asking me what's wrong with my child. I have no idea. He has about ten doctors, they have no idea. He has four therapists, they have no idea. Maybe one day, when he can actually talk, he'll tell us.

A few nights ago, I asked Walter, if he could wish for one thing, what would it be. He thought about, and came back with some deep, thoughtful response. Mine wasn't deep. In fact, it was quite shallow. I didn't say that I would wish for Isaac to be normal, that I wish he could walk, or talk, or run, or even eat, I just wish he would spend more hours out of each day, happier than unhappy. That's all I wish for.

For all of the readers who need something happy to read, today officially began our journey of homeschooling. That's kind of a lie because we've been working on math since June, but today, we added the rest of the subjects to our schedule. Isabella's phonics lesson was on the letter 'M' and she was supposed to think of an object beginning with the letter 'M', and draw a picture of it:

"What can you think of that starts with the letter 'M' that you want to draw a picture of?"
"Hmmm...I know! A mammal!"

A mammal. Not a mouse, or a muffin, a monster, or hellooo, mommy....a mammal. She's funny.

Some Isabella quotes:

Mommy, Isaac is just like Hello Kitty, he's cute, soft, and cuddly. And mommy, you're just like Barbie, because you're beautiful. 
     -Thankfully, I'm not "just like Barbie" or I'd fall on my face.

I just love, love, LOVE the letter 'P'! 

It's just too much work for me (to do her math work sheet), and then, I feel in my heart, that I want to play with my mp3 player (that Walter found while cleaning some stuff in the basement).

Mommy, why do you have an attitude? You are having the same attitude as daddy about me going to bed.

"No, I don't want to read that story tonight!"
"Why?"
"I don't like that story."
"Since when?"
"Since twenty years ago."

To a stranger: Um, Isaac doesn't actually like when people touch him. It makes him grumpy. 

At a very stressful feeding therapy appointment: I think he just wants you to give him the toy. 
     -Yep

You didn't give me any green paint, so perhaps you could get some for me. 
     -Perhaps.

And the finale, because I couldn't help it, and I really need things to laugh about these days: 

Daddy, that bug probably fell down into the basement just like the spider that was in my room did, and now they're probably making love.

Goodnight.