Sometimes, when I get to be alone, I think about stuff. Like when I go to Lowe’s. Lowe’s is a great thinking place. I like to wander around. But then I end up thinking about really stupid stuff, like crafts I could do with PVC pipe or finding a way to make my boys’ toilet to self clean (while we’re on the subject, Lance and I play a game called “would you rather” it was my turn so I asked him if he’d rather streak across Tremont and Lund or lick the bottom part of the toilet where the pee collects after running down the side of the bowl. He said he’d rather streak than GO IN the boys bathroom. Which I might put him up to, but then everyone who saw would not want for another human being again in their lives).  But I also think about other stuff.

Like what’s Jamey’s motive behind starting 5 Words with Friends games with me?

Or if I had one day to myself to do anything I wanted to in the whole world I think about laying on a beach in the sunshine- so bright that it makes the back of my eyelids look pink. I think about sleeping in said sunshine on said beach and maybe reading a book. How boring have I become when that’s the best sounding thing in the world to me?

I think about cutting a hole in my husbands closet floor because it’s right above the washing machine. Laundry chute. (Chute is spelled dumb). I’d do it, too, but I wouldn’t finish it so it’d probably be just another hazard to my children.

I think about baby names for other people. My friend already has a son Max and I think she should name the fetus she’s pregnant with Ruby. Except when you really think about it, I’m pretty sure Max and Ruby’s parents got ate. No one wants their kids to have to endure such a legacy.

I think about short buses. The short bus comes every day to my house. I’ve REALLY tried to make it funny. Because it could be. But it’s not. I cried every single day for the first little while after Casey had to start riding the short bus. Then it hit me  that, of course, Abby will ride a short bus, too. But the thing is that Abby and Casey are too far apart in age to ever go to the same school. So I’m going to have TWO short buses stop at my house every day. A short bus parade of sorts. I’m not happy about it. (on a side note, don’t do an image search, no matter how strong your filter for “short bus”.  Brain Stain City. I know, surprising, right?)

I think about the new people who come on this blog and post nice things like that they pray for me, my daughter and my family. That’s amazing to me. Mostly because anyone who doesn’t know me puts the time into reading this nonsense, but also that they come back, and also because they care.  Blogging is therapy for me. It’s amazing to me how many people like to watch. I like it.

This is a kid with Aspergers  who Casey met at the shark tank at the zoo.

I wonder how much  Casey understands about his autism. The other day I was fighting with him about getting in the car. About fifteen minutes into it I asked him  why he was fighting me so much on this. Peyton, thinking that he was helping Casey come to an answer said, “I know why, Casey. It’s because you have autism.” I think Peyton understands more about this situation than he lets on.

I have a really hard time asking people for help. I always have. So it’s amazing to me this small army of people who help me all on their own. All of the people I’ve never had to ask who give our family their time, their resources, etc.  I’m terrible at writing ‘thank you’ notes and I hate myself for that. But I do appreciate it. Every time I put on an outfit that I someone gave Abby, I think about you. Every time I see your dishes that I haven’t returned, I think about you. And when I’m having a tough time and feel really alone, I think about you. Thank you for being so good to us.

That’s all.