THOSE FOUR DREADED WORDS. . .

So, I'm not exactly sure when this happened, but sometime between the time I was in my early twenties with not a single real responsibility I could spit at, and well, now, I'm pretty sure that I've turned into:

A WALKING, BREATHING, LIVING

POST-IT NOTE.

I mean really. It's absolutely amazing the amount of information I must remember on a daily basis. Sometimes I often think to myself how I spent so many years of my life not-remembering things. For instance:

Remember to put the milk away. Yes. I actually have to remind myself to do this.

Remember the wipes. Seriously. Take my advice on this one. DON'T EVER LEAVE HOME WITH OUT THEM. Three words friends. Green flowing buggers. Just remember the wipes already.

Remember to pick up child from preschool.

Remember to put batteries in the hearing aids.

Remember to put hearing aids on child.

Remember the quiet bag at church. Another duzy. Just don't forget the bag people.

Remember to floss.

Remember to take your vitamins.

Remember to tivo.

Remember to be positive.

Remember to incorporate vegetables if at all possible into Thing 1's diet. Even if you have to sneak.

Remember to pay the bills.

Remember to do the laundry. Really though, how could I forget?

Remember to set the alarm. Remember to ask Hubs if he set the alarm.

Remember to water the one living plant in the house before it dies too.

Remember to say please.

Remember to say Thank you.

Remember to be positive when reminding Thing 1 for the thousandth time to flush.

Remember to put on a bra. Yes this has actually happened.

Remember to put on shoes. Again, yes.

Remember to put on pants. Just kidding.

Remember to put pants on Thing 2. This one did happen.

Remember to keep in touch with family.

Remember to reply to those e-mails.

Remember to repent.

Remember it's my month to conduct.

Remember to bring dinner to so-and-so.

Remember it's playgroup this week at my house.

Remember, remember, remember.

I mean how exactly did this happen? My one and only theory? Kids? Wrong. Marriage. BINGO!

Now, don't get me wrong. I love my dear husband as much as the next lady, but I swear it all began pretty much the day we moved in together. And somehow it stuck. *Yes, that was supposed to be funny.* And if I try to pinpoint the exact moment in time, I'm pretty sure that I can.

It all began one beautiful sunny day about a week after we'd been home from our honeymoon and all settled in to our 350 square foot apartment. Somehow we'd deemed it Hubs job to clean the bathroom. Well, really now, that was ALL he had to clean. I'd do the other 345 square feet, if he'd just do that five. And so there we were. A week into our bliss, only our bathroom wasn't so blissful anymore. It was beginning to accumulate hair and just mess. And being that our bathroom was in, yes IN, our kitchen I thought that it was pretty gross to at least not keep it fairly clean. I mean really, there wasn't even a sink in there! So, he had to clean the shower and the toilet. That's it! Honestly. Okay, were was I?

Oh yes, that fine sunny day. I asked hubs ever so politely if he'd had a chance to clean the bathroom yet. Or did he have a plan to do so? Really, just as sweet as sugar and soft as butter. No nagging or blunt-ness. Just lovingly pondering. Like you do when you are a newlywed and don't know any better. And you could be an angel on a cloud asking someone if they'd like any philly cream cheese cake bites. But the words that came out of that man's mouth have forever baffled me. I still to this day can not get over it. He said: (and I quote)

"Will you remind me?"

"Um, What? Remind you to clean the bathroom? What do you mean? I kinda figured since we were having this little convo that this could be your reminder."

"No" he says, "I mean will you remind me when it needs to be clean?"

Again. Baffled. Trying my hardest to remain newlywed-like. "I don't get it."

"Will you just tell me when it needs to be cleaned?"

"You can't tell?"

"Well no."

Again, stunned silence. This is something I wasn't expecting. I mean sure, I was expecting tiffs over the remote, and struggles for the covers, but knowing when a bathroom needs cleaning? Un-be-lieve-able! Right?! Then he goes on. . .

"Just tell me. Just remind me."

And this is the conversation that has literally lasted almost 8 years. I just don't understand. How do you not know when a bathroom is dirty? I don't need to remind you. The bathroom will! Your eyes will! Sheesh.

But as the years have gone on we've found a way around this little argument. Her name is Emma. And I can honestly say, I might love her more than Hubs. Kidding. Kidding. Never, but close. She can clean a bathroom like a champ. But this is beside the point.

Even though we no longer argue about the bathroom's cleanliness, I can honestly say I get those dreaded 4 words "WILL YOU REMIND ME." at least on a daily basis.

And I sometimes just don't get it. How can I remember to do that entire fascinating list above every day, but Hubs has the audacity to ask me to send him a reminder e-mail in the morning to e-mail me. What? Seriously? Is that the rest of my life? Human Post-it note?

Well, if this is what I'm going to be seen as, I'd like to think of myself as the the hot pink ones. Cause that's kinda fun. Normal size, nothing fancy. Unlined--lined ones are much too boring. And if it's not too much to ask maybe the pop-up ones? You know the kind. The ones that accordion out? They are kinda snazzy don't ya think? And fun. And probably remind like a jem. None of that boring old yellow one side sticky for me. Lame-o.

Heck no. I've decided those four words like em' or not, I'm pretty sure they are here to stay. Not sure if it's Hubs specifically that thinks he's married a human post-it note, or the general male population (I'd like to please think I'm not the only one), but I've decided something tonight while laying in bed fulfilling my duty of human post-it note. It's really not that bad. And well, now, honestly, it makes me kinda laugh. The thing that man asks me to remind him! And truthfully, I like that someone wants me around enough to tell him crap to do. Sort of like having another child, but funnier and stranger. And well I guess the bottom line of this lame little post is that I love him. All of him. Even if he does see me as an extra large life-size post-it note.