Classic Conditioning. Also known as: That one dog theory...

I have a problem. It is not a dramatic or life threatening problem, although it is leaning towards a problem that is detrimental for my sanity. I have a problem with that one dog theory. You know which one I mean? Somebody rings a bell, and makes dogs drool because they associate the bell with food? Pavlov's Theory, or Classic Conditioning, is the technical name for it. 

I call it the Nothing-Gets-Done-If-I-Don't-Talk-To-Bee Theory. 

Over the course of my engagement and consequential marriage to Husband, I have developed a rather...dependent relationship with my sister-in-law, Bee. It all started when we were pregnant at the same time, working at the same job, on the same shift, riding home in the same car. Actually, that timeline is wrong. It started with us working at the same job. From there, it evolved. We were already best buds before she found out she was pregnant with my nephew, and really, by that time, it didn't matter that we were forever going to be thrown together by our "children's" desperate need to be around each other. She is my other, other half. In the beginning of our co-dependent friendship Husband would joke that I only married him for his family (which is in no way accurate...I met Husband way before I met them!).  Now, it is actually at the point that he doesn't even ask who I'm talking to on the phone. He just knows.

After the birth of Monster S, and my nephew M, both Bee and I found ourselves at home, kind of lonely and missing each other. I can only speak for myself (though I'm sure she'd agree) when I say that becoming a stay at home mom made it kind of depressing when we no longer saw each other Ever Single Day (Ya know, the more I write the more I'm realizing that this is sounding slightly unhealthy....). So we improvised, turned to our cell phones and began the tradition of talking to each other instead. Which is a good thing, because mostly we talked at night after the babies were asleep. See, back then, that was when Bee did all her cleaning. Husband worked the night shift, so I was always up, ready to chat. Eventually, after so many hours of listening to her tell me about the progress she was making, I began using our daily talk time as my routine cleaning time as well. Often Husband would come home (at 2a.m.) and I would be passed out on the couch, phone dead on the coffee table in front of me, and the house decently picked up. Except for laundry. Never the laundry. That was an obstacle course, and it did, in fact, help me lose weight after having Monster S, because I had to climb the laundry mountain to get out the back door for my smoke breaks (don't judge me, that weight loss was the easiest I've ever had!). Back then though, I didn't do nearly as much cleaning/cooking/organizing as I do now. I only had one kid to Bee's two, and not near as much to keep up with considering S enjoyed sitting in the same spot playing with the same toys day after day. In fact, I was a pretty messy (read: slob) individual and most of the messes were my own. I was...now I know this is going to be hard to believe, since I'm such a domestic goddess now...I was lazy. Pretty much always. I feel lighter admitting that to you, friends. 

It took me many, many years to get to the level and stage of my life that I'm at now. Becoming this charming housewife that you know and love was hard work, requiring dedication, patience, and most of all motivation. The nighttime routine of cleaning our houses faded, what with our children getting bigger and demanding more of our time and sleep being a precious commodity that we rarely got to enjoy. Still, Bee and I talked just about every day. I am pretty confident when I say that in the last 5 years we have never gone longer than 3 days without talking to each other. 3 days is a long, long time. And amazingly, we also Never Run Out of things to talk about. Seriously, you know that friend that your parent would joke about you being joined at the hip with? That's us. Bee is the ying to my yang, and 3 days means AT LEAST a 2-3 hour catch up conversation. When the nighttime routine ended and we started talking more during the day, often times we would say to each other "I just need you to talk to me for a few minute while I clean." and a few minutes would turn into a few hours, and next thing I knew my house was staying cleaner. I began subconsciously associating our chats with cleaning. And thus, my Classic Conditioning problem was born.

While I know that you may not believe me, we have laughed many a time at how our housework suffers on days that we don't chat. We have even come to the realization that it only happens with each other. I can spend two hours on the phone with my mom and only do one load of dishes. I can even use today as a prime example. I started this blog post this morning at roughly 9 a.m. Now it is 11:30 and I have stopped writing 3 times and cleaned while I talked on the phone. Bee's husband once made a comment about the number of minutes on their phone bill that she spent talking to me. Our justification? "Those aren't talking minutes! Those are cleaning minutes!" If I were to look at my phone (heaven help the number of minutes to Bee I would find), I could say with confidence that 85% of those minutes were spent as motivated cleaning time. It's reflex, and most of the time I don't even notice I'm doing it. Here's my example for you.

Around paragraph, mmm, 2? I was typing away, and my phone rang. I picked up the phone and said "Hold that thought, while I finish this sentence" Of course, she knew exactly what I was doing because she knows everything, and as soon as I was done, I immediately (without even thinking about it) starting clearing trash off of my desk. I mean, it was littered with dishes and wrappers, and empty chip bags from all the time I've spent working. And I laughed as I walked out of the room the computer was in. Because this, what I was writing about, was happening even as I was writing about it. My brain associates her voice over the phone with Productivity! In fact, this whole post was inspired by her folding some laundry the first time we talked. (yes, I said first. We've probably hung up and called back about 4 times now. Shut up, it's perfectly normal).Every time we have hung up the phone I have found myself back in front of the computer laughing to myself as I write. I could go on for days, ladies and gents, about my co-dependency issues with Bee. So far today I have cleaned my kitchen counters and table, folded and put away a load of towels, cleared off 75% of my computer desk, had two cups of coffee, hung up half a load of my kids' clothes, picked up the living room, helped my kids put away toys, and put the baby down for a nap. I have so much more to do, but for now I think I'll just leave you imagining that I have a perfect house, with sparkling counters, and clean floors. 

Oops, my phone is ringing again. I have some more laundry to fold, so until next time, you bishes can be jealous of how much I'm getting done today. :)

Time flies

These days feel long and short at the same damn time. I'm not quite sure why it feels like time is slipping through my fingers, but it does. I thought that I had so much time left before "things" would kick-off. By things, I mean t-ball, summer, swimming in the pool, the end of the school year for my nieces and nephews. Time is coming so quick, and I almost want to freeze everything. Right here, right now in this little bitty portion of the world where, for us, everything is perfect and happy. I hate that not everyone is feeling like that right now; that right now in the world so many are hurting; so many are waiting on the edge of their seats for "things" to pass. I hate that the idea of freezing time in a place of happiness for me, means someone would be stuck in a moment of pure desolation and grief. So time keeps on trekking, passing rapidly through our fingers, before our very eyes.

How do I know that? Because my sweet baby boy is closing in on 6 months old. Half a year has already passed since I was sitting morbidly pregnant at this very computer, eagerly awaiting his arrival. My beloved oldest Monster is about to be 5 years old! She is about to start school, where suddenly her world will be so much bigger than that of what our little home contains. 5 years. I have been a mother for 5 short, long, beautiful, miserable years. I watch my children, and marvel that my middle angel seems so big, and yet, comparatively, so small. Her chubby cheeks still lined with the adorable baby chub that brings a smile to everyone's face is evolving daily into that of an older, more learned child. How heartbreaking it is to know that my sweet baby is giving me all my "last". Last baby laughs, last first discoveries and last milestones of all my kids. I almost want to pinch myself because I feel as though I'm dreaming. Floating along slowly, under water, watching the beauty around me sparkle as I stare up in wonder at the world around me. How did I get so lucky? Why me?

It's actually pretty crazy. I have never in my life felt older than I feel right now, in this minute. I used to get excited buying new shoes! I still do, by the way, just not the ones for me. I love watching my girls stomp their feet just to see My Little Pony tennis shoes flash lights everywhere.

I am so much older now than I was 5 years ago. I think curling up on the couch watching a movie is exciting! Dates consist of Lunchables and sitting at the same table, with laundry pushed to the other end to make room. And I love it!

My kids still want hugs and kisses from me though, so I suppose I could be much, much older. I'm preparing myself though, for all the "Things" and the busy schedules, and the chauffeuring and running around I'll be doing. My resume is about to tack on a lot more job titles, as if wife, mother, cook, and maid weren't enough! 

But that's ok, because my crazy little life is perfect.

Life keeps changing.

Every single time I sit down at my computer to write, it takes a long winded depressing turn into blah-ville. Now while I tend to be very much the Queen of that little Blah existence, it does not make for an entertaining read.
So I am going to skip over the "things change/nothing stays the same/people come and go/how the hell can you tell who your friends are" bit. Because honestly I do not care to give that miserable thought process a chance to evolve and change my mood for the worst. I will say this. Life is funny, and sometimes, just sometimes, you find out the things you thought were So Important to you can completely fade from your life in a blink of an eye. And there is nothing you can really do about it.

Anyway. Monster S had her Kindergarten Kick-off the other night, which is a fancy way of saying we got to tour her school. It was amazing to see her in that setting, so grown and so eager for this stage of life to begin. My daughter, the Devour-er of Knowledge. Husband and I had to marvel and laugh as we walked through the halls of the place our children would be spending a majority of their time for the next 5-8 years. We are parents. With a child starting school. That day has (almost) come! Once it begins, there is no turning back. No end in sight of schedules and calendars, and helping with homework. Routine must happen and it must happen soon.
The girls begin t-ball in approximately two weeks. Now that I have a vehicle, our whole world is kicked into high gear. I can not wait to go to practices and games, and heaven help me, I must buy some sunscreen! I cannot wait for the pools to be open and my nieces and nephews to be out of school. I am ready for summer gosh darn it. I want to be busy. I want to be kicked back in the sun watching all my kiddos playing outside. Lord help me I've turned into a full fledged MOM. It happened when I wasn't even looking.

Ah well, I guess that means I should go tackle the laundry. My kids might need actual clothes to wear.

Spring has arrived!

It has been one of those "seasons". Spring has finally arrived and with the arrival of Spring came the departure of most of my winter blues. Upon investigating the source of my mild depressive state I came upon a fun little fact that I have to keep in mind before diagnosing myself clinically crazy. There is a such thing as weather induced depression. I think I was suffering in a major way from this SAD mood of mine (SAD:Seasonal Affective Disorder).

With the warmer air, and snotty, allergy driven colds running amok in my household, I'm beginning to feel slightly more...Normal. Is there such a thing for a stay at home mom of three kids under the age of 5? I'm not sure. Either way, my mood has improved, and so has my motivation. 

This must be the source of "Spring Cleaning". People (a.k.a. women, because we all know men are perfectly content with their surroundings, no matter how filthy) rise up from the ashes of their winter induced 'motivation coma' and realize that they have been slacking. That the trash has piled up, and the fans have a layer of dust half an inch thick. The refrigerator, which you previously couldn't see into through the murky haze of gloom and doom, is in dire need of a cleansing purge. The bathroom, well we won't go there. So a frenzy takes over. 

"I can't invite people over for a warm weather BBQ with my house looking like this!"

"I might die from the pile of laundry threatening to swallow me alive!"

"Is that sticky substance on the kitchen counter new, or has it been there all winter long?"

"Holy crap, did dust just fly out of my t.v. speakers when I turned the volume up a little higher???"

"I don't remember cooking a green and fuzzy...Oh, wait..."

And thus, the birth of Spring Cleaning. That's how it happened, true story. 

So we begin to look a little like this:

We start to feel better about our life, and act like mature responsible adults. Kind of like this:

And that's what is happening around here.

I have (finally) gotten the hang of having three children. It's not as difficult as I thought it would be, although in some aspects it is definitely more trying than I might have anticipated. The boy is WAAAAAY different than his sisters were, and ya know, Thank God for THAT! But really, it's great. So many things are happening with my kids that just really spark a fire of joy in my heart.

Monster S starts kindergarten in the fall, and NEXT WEEK (*sobs into her baby blanket*) she has Kindergarten Kickoff, which means we will get to go take a tour of her school. Pretty awesome. Luckily we also have her physical scheduled for the day before, and I will be able to get things rolling with the registration process. Can anyone say "Heck yeah you're a grown up!" because it's hitting me that I really am an adult.

Monster L has FINALLY starting talking in full blown paragraphs. While she still slurs her "R's" a bit, I can usually understand most of what she says. This is major progress, and genuinely warms the cockles of my heart because it feels like a breakthrough. Who cares that I'm the only one (besides her sister) who knows what she is saying? She also has taken on the role of my toughest child. Here's a delightful story for you. Yesterday being one of the first days that we spent All Day Long outside, was also the day for our first skinned knee of the year. Normally this would include crying, soothing Popsicles, and a lot of kisses from Mama. Not Monster L. She came in from outside declaring her boo boo like it was a trophy. 

"Mama! I has a boo-boo."
"What, where??"

" 'wight here. On ma legs."

"Oh my gosh what happened?"
"I falled by the porch. I got a boo-boo on my knee. It has bloods on it. But I no cry Mama, cause I'm tough."

"Well, do you need a bandaid?"
"Nopes, I just has a boo boo."

"Did you cry?"

"Uh, no Mama, I just got my boo-boo with bloods on it, and I want to tell you."

"Well...Ok, do you want me to kiss it?"
"No. Bye! I go play now!"

Well Alrighty Then. And off she went. Like I said, she's tough. Monster S cries if she gets scratches her arm on a blade of grass. Whatever.

Monster D-man is also growing in leaps and bounds. He can laugh like a champ, something I think amuses him and me to no end. He likes to laugh at me in particular. Something about my face either makes him ridiculously happy, or it just plain cracks him up. I'm frequently asking the girls if I have something on my face. Monster man also reaches for toys, eats baby oatmeal like it is going out of style, and has an affinity for hair pulling. He is a fairly happy baby, with a severe tendency to be cranky after 7 p.m. despite his ability to fight sleep until At Least 10 p.m.

So that's an update on our crazy, cooky family. We're all thoroughly in love with the the change in weather, so you'll have to excuse me. It's time to go sit back outside in the sun. I prefer my tan to come from that rather than the computer screen. :)