Pavlov Was WRONG

So, here's the thing: I've got these two gorgeous children who have become my reason for existing. They are heathly. They are smart. Most of the time, they bring me indescribable, excruciating joy.

And then there are other times when I really do understand why so many mothers are in therapy.

We have, stuck to our fridge, three lists. One is labeled "good morning!" one says "welcome home from school!" and the third is titled "good night!" On these lists are the things that the girls have to do at certain times of the day (for example, the morning list says "get up...make your bed...get dressed...eat breakfast...put your dishes in the sink when you're done eating...brush your teeth..." that sort of thing. There is nothing on any of the lists that is taxing for a small person, and before the school year started, we three sat down and went over the lists to make sure that they were all relavent and doable. The idea was that, instead of reminding the girls to do every single thing they need to do, thereby turning the parents into insufferable nags, we could simply tell them to "work your list."

Can you see where this is going?

I was making lunches for the girls this morning - this is part of my job now that I'm not working - when I discovered that the girls' lunch boxes were not where they're supposed to be. That's because they're still in their backpacks and have been since Friday afternoon. So I put everything in produce bags and left them where I usually put their lunch boxes. The part I love about this, though, is that they came downstairs from their showers and asked me "why are the lunches on the floor?" I'm about three days off of starting my period. I had to physically restrain myself from throttling the little cherubs.

The lists have been on the fridge since the oldest girl started school four years ago. You'd think they'd have figured it out by now. Maybe I need a bell and some kibble....