Dear DIL: Chivalry Is Not Dead

Dear Future DILs,

I need you to know that what I am about to tell you is not at all about me being an awesome mama…though I strive to be.

And will strive to be an awesome mama-in-law too…I promise. You might not always think so, but I pray that you do.

This little ditty is about the PBA seeing, firsthand, that not everyone is taught to be a gentleman as they are being taught to be. And understanding why I do what I do.

At least I am TRYING to teach them to be gentlemen. It's not really an "every day, all the time" kind of thing yet.

Here's the thing: I expect them to hold doors open. Not just for me, but for everyone.

Today's lesson was as simple as that.

Now girls…I must explain one thing, because this can definitely be a hot-button issue for some women. I know that you are probably capable of opening doors for yourselves. And I do not teach them this quality to belittle or demean you in any way. It is not to “keep you under their foot of oppression”.

I know that some women are offended…and not just a little bit…they are DEEPLY offended when men attempt to be chivalrous. I implore you, girls, do not allow the world to teach you this offense. Receive it as a courtesy they are offering to not only you, but everyone they meet.

Ok…off my soapbox.

Most of the time, they do a pretty good job of remembering. However, if we are walking into a building together and they don’t open the door, I will stand there until they snap to attention.

In case you didn't know, yes, I’m that kind of mom.

It doesn’t take them long to notice; and to be fair, we’ve been doing this for a while so it is mostly second-nature and rarely do I catch them missing their cue.

In fact, they are typically so aware that they will sometimes race one another to the door to open it. Again…not just for me, but for others as well.

It’s a proud mama moment for sure when they do that for others.

Largely when they hold the door for strangers, it goes unnoticed. In spite of doing this training for a while, I am still surprised when other people fail to acknowledge someone holding the door open for them…child or not.

They don't do it for the attention...but it is still surprising when a simple "thank you" isn't given. I told the boys that showing this kindness is not done in order to be acknowledged but because it is the kind and thoughtful thing to do.

Being Christ in some small way. Serving others. All that stuff.

Not to get all WWJD on you, but I assume that Jesus would have opened the door not just for his mother but for everyone…can I get an “Amen”?

It’s just showing honor, love (in some cases…presumably for you and hopefully me) and respect…bottom line.

Primarily, it is the Senior Saints who notice, comment and quite frankly, often gush all over the boys. The ladies especially.

The PBA now only turn a couple shades of red, whereas they used to turn ALL shades of red when this happened.

But I digress. 

Well, today, the PBA and I were leaving the gym.

As an aside (because that's what I do), we go to the gym virtually every day of the school week, and occasionally on Saturdays. (It’s closed on Sundays otherwise I might go then too.) This is not me bragging…I am simply setting the scene for those who may not know: I do 30-60 minutes of cardio, and some weightlifting every time I go to the gym. Every time. OK 4 out of 5 times.

That's still a lot, lest you be unaware.

So now let me ask you: does this sound as though I am “getting some exercise”? I ask because since I am officially “old”, I had to be screened for diabetes and have my cholesterol checked.

Oh, and I also got to have that “oh-so-fun” exam which it is recommended that women over 40 have…it used to be every year, but since Obama is into telling health care system how to operate, it’s now every 2-3 years.

Frankly, from a discomfort standpoint, I am ok with the every 2-3 years, but from a practical standpoint, cancer could spread at an alarming rate in 2 years, so to wait that long between mammograms seems ridiculous to me.

But I shall get off my soapbox now. Again.

Everyone who has had one done told me what it would feel like, but words don’t fully convey the experience.

I found the “manhandling” to be the worst part, but maybe that’s just me.

So I got a call from my doctor’s office about my diabetes and cholesterol tests. My diabetes test was fine…no indication that there is a problem (I wasn’t really worried). For my cholesterol: overall number is ok, bad cholesterol number is fine, good cholesterol number is a little low.

I don’t understand the math on that one, but ok...math isn't really my thing anyway.

What was the advice from the nurse who called? “Just try to get some exercise in and that should help bring that number up.”

Clearly, sweetheart, you did not read in my chart which clearly indicates that I exercise at least 5 times/week.

But whatever… “I’ll try to get some exercise in”.

But I did not set out to tell you about my medical non-issues. Sorry…that’s what happens to people when they get old…they give you unsolicited information on their physical well-being.

Get used to it, my dear DILs. If I’m doing this at 40, imagine what I’ll be like by the time you marry my son. Good luck and God bless you!

Anyway…chivalry is not dead (although my filter may be).

Today, the PBA and I were leaving the gym. As we approached the door, there was a young man…I’d guess him to be in his early 20’s…coming toward the door. My 11yo reached the door at the same time as him…I know this b/c my 11yo hurried up his pace, mostly certainly to beat the man to the door and hold it open for him.

But instead, the man grabbed the door from my son’s hand. For a split second I thought “Oh well he’s going to hold the door for us.”

As I started to go through the door, he came through the door.

So I stopped. Somewhat in his way, mind you, because I presumed I was going first.

Silly me.

So I side-stepped him.

My 11yo reached in the take the door from him…but the man had already let go of the door. So my son caught it half-way through closing.

No acknowledgement at all that this may have been rude.

He didn’t even seem to notice that anyone else was there, let alone three someone elses.

Neither I nor the PBA said anything…mostly I was concerned about one of them in particular who sometimes lack filter. I can’t imagine where he gets that quality.

But no…mouths clamped shut.

Once we were outside, however, I looked behind me at the boys and their eyes were like saucers and they were shaking their heads.

Yeah! They get it! They see why I do what I do…at least in this case. I promise you: I’ll keep working.

With all my love,

Your adoring MIL

Follow me on Facebook! Or on Instagram (look for "mrsalwaysrandom")

Dear DILs: Life Skills

Dear Future DILs,

As I continue to pray for you and what you need in an husband, it occurred to me that it might be nice if your husbands can assist you in the kitchen.

I say this from experience. I despise cooking. I really do. I think I do a decent job…I mean, no one in the house really complains…however that might be due to the “if you complain about a meal which someone has taken their own time to prepare for you, then you will be the one fixing dinner for the family on the next night”.

That may have something to do with it…possibly.

Regardless…no one has died yet from my cooking. At least that I know of.

And all this rambling to say: I would love love love it if Mr. AR was more confident and could help me just a touch more than he does.

Frankly, he’s really not so helpful when it comes to the kitchen. I don’t think he even had home ec in school…this makes me sad for so many reasons. He also does not know how to sew on a button. Seriously? Who doesn’t know how to do that?!?

But I have digressed…

Now that I have put together such a rousing plug for my cooking, I shall inform you that I am teaching my boys (aka your future husbands) how to cook. Mind you, ladies…this will not be haute cousine. Nothing fancy schmancy about this. We are simple, basic people…in many ways.

Don’t judge.

But our food will surpass edible. It will be good. That’s the goal anyway.

But right now, it is summertime. I kind of loathe summer for one simple reason: there is no schedule. I am ready for school to begin again in the worst way. I mean…I am ACHING to start. All this slovenliness…sleeping the day away.

Getting up at 7:30…unbelievable, right?

But I promised the PBA that we would wait until fall to start up school.

Ha!

See, that’s funny b/c “fall” is now July 28…over a month before the pool closes. At least two months before leaves begin their transformation to glorious colors other than green (sorry to all you green lovers out there…green is ok, but not really my favorite color; don’t judge).

But…we all will have had PLENTY of time off and will seriously need to get back into a routine. Things will have been silly around here for long enough. Time to get to work.

It will be at that point that we will begin our “Life Skills”…and this year, it will involve cooking. OK, it will BE cooking…not just involve it.

They will either copy down the recipe, or will write it as I narrate it and put it in their “cooking binder”…a new-to-them recipe each week.

Please be advised, when I say “cooking binder” what I actually mean is a small photo album I picked up at Goodwill for $.99 and then covered with some duct tape. They each have their own which I am fairly certain they will treasure all the days of their lives.

 So…I have included below my list (thus far) of that which I am planning to teach them. Please remember…we are NOT fancy. So if you are, that’s all fine and lovely for you…and your husband may not be as helpful as you might hope. Though he won’t be paralyzed as Mr. AR sometimes is when I ask for help beyond making a salad (which, as an aside, the PBA can currently do reasonably well...especially if I buy bagged salad; I don’t mean to brag here).

This list is in no order whatsoever, and is simply a jumping off point for us/me. And most of them are not difficult in the slightest. And some of them build off another item (i.e. boiled eggs one week, deviled eggs the next).

But the whole reason I include the list here is to see if there are any additional items which you’d like him/them to know how to make.

Without further delay, I give you the list:

• Baked fish               
• Quiche (chef’s choice on kind)                     
• Biscuits                    
• No bake cookies      
• Artichoke dip           
• Salsa                      
• Blondies
• Meatloaf
• Chili      
• Mashed potatoes       
• Tacos     
• Brownies
• Pound cake              
• Coffee cake             
• Pulled pork              
• Pancakes                  
• Quick bread (baker’s choice on type, but fingers crossed it will be pumpkin)
• Sloppy joes (which will include how to brown meat…ground beed, turkey, chicken, etc…the options are limitless!)
• Pigs in a blanket
• Spaghetti (pasta in general actually)              
• Chocolate chip cookies                
• Mac & cheese (from scratch)       
• Guacamole              
• Hard boiled eggs
• Deviled eggs            
• Pie        
• Roasted chicken and homemade chicken stock 
• Chicken noodle soup 
• Baked potatoes         
• Stir fry (chef’s choice on type…except tofu…I refuse to let that stuff enter my house…and yes I have eaten it so I’m not making an uninformed judgment about its level of disgustingness)

If there’s anything you think MUST me added, don’t hesitate to let me know…via comments below, on FB or send an email. I have no preconceived ideas that this list is all-encompassing.

Love,

Your Future MIL…and also someone who hopes and prays that you are an ah-mazing chef.

  

Follow me on Facebook!

Good Camouflage

Warning: there’s a lot of “back and forth” business going on in this post. It’s almost like it’s Monday morning and I have about 25 different things I’m thinking about and am not entirely focused on writing.

But at the same time, I haven’t written much in DAYS and am starting to get a stockpile of rambling thoughts I just need to get out.

Lucky you.

All that to say: be sure to take your Dramamine before embarking on this trip.

We like shopping for clothes. (Note the smooth transition…that’s why I get paid the big bucks)

Don’t get me wrong…we don’t pay full-price or anything crazy like that. (But I’m certain that you knew all that already…stick with me. I promise that it won’t all be review.)

Nor are we the pinnacle of high-fashion. Or possibly of fashion at all. We just like what we like.

And we like clothes.

And shoes.

And when I say “we”, I am referring to myself, Mr. AR, and the 12yo.

I cannot even bring myself to show you photos of our closets.

Cannot.

Odd thing…I never seem to have anything to wear, or I wear the same few things over and over. Not on purpose…it just seems to happen.

For the record, I do try one on a lot of those clothes hanging in my closet, but rarely do any of them make an actual appearance outside in the sunlight.

I think that the mirrors at the stores lie to me. It’s like Elaine buying that dress at Barney’s, only to get it home and find out that the store has “skinny mirrors”. (Anyone getting that reference?)

I do clean out my clothes every 6 months, by the way…lest you be judging me and thinking me a hoarder. Mr. AR? Not so much. I see an appearance on A&E in his future if I should die before him.

In the meantime, feel free to watch more episodes of “Hoarders” than you ever would want to right here.

For the record, I am NOT making fun of people with this condition…it is truly an issue/illness which is devastating and debilitating and should not be taken lightly.

But now back to me being random and shallow.

Why, oh why is it that I wear only a fraction of what I have in my closet?!?

I don’t have any answers for you on that today. If I did, I would write a book. I would love to write a book, but that’s not the one for me to write….because I have no answers on that subject.

I am trying to figure out what kind of book I AM going to write. I may have gotten a tiny glimpse of it last week at a chance lunch meeting…but I digress. And I don’t want to put the cart before the horse.

So I’m keeping that tight-lipped for now.

Tight-lipped, I tell you…don’t even ask because I’m not talking.

I would surely jinx it anyway. Not that I’m into that kind of voodoo business…but if I were, well…you understand.

Besides, it would be potentially YEARS before that book idea would/could all come together.

Again...I digress.

My point in all this: I don’t exactly know where we went wrong, but my 11yo is not the clothes-horse that the rest of us are. I try not to blame myself.

He has his rotation of about 3-4 shirts he wears (and because I enable this by doing laundry so frequently, he can stick with this lifestyle choice; I don’t do laundry often explicitly for him…we just have copious amounts of laundry and I am simply trying to keep it at bay. It is a side-effect that this works out well for him.)

God bless him…he’s always been that “hand-me-down-clothes” kid. Which has been a blessing for us…we have had so many people willingly give us bags of clothes for the boys. Bags of clothes = hundreds of dollars.

I know I have mentioned this before but I have to say it again. Because God is awesome to bless us this way and I just have to tell you.

To top it all off, my mom loves to buy clothes for the boys. Ergo…I rarely, if ever, have to. I mean GET to. (Because clothes shopping with boys is SO much fun…and I hate to miss out on that.)

Although my mom was a little miffed with him a couple weeks ago. She and my dad took the PBA clothes shopping and the 12yo was all-in. The 11yo came home with some socks. After much coaxing/poking/prodding, he finally acquiesced and allowed them to buy some socks for him.

Albeit Puma brand socks…like his brother’s and his dad’s, so sorting socks in the laundry is uber-fun. 

Usually I will mate the socks and leave them in a pile on the coffeetable and instruct them to “find your own socks”.

That’s how I roll, people. (I don’t like to brag but I am pretty hard-core.)

Actually...clothing choices have become interesting with the 12yo. I know I have talked about this before so I won’t discuss it again (at least right now…I am certain it will be revisited). In the past year or so he has definitely come into his own with his own sense of fashion and choices and opinions on what he likes and what he does not.

Rarely am I right when I think I have him pegged…so I don’t dare buy anything for him without him being present.

And yesterday, I felt was a prime opportunity for him to look for some new threads. (The kids still say that, right? I’m still hip when I say that, aren’t I?)

We were at Goodwill (duh…because Salvation Army is closed on Sundays), and thought he would JUMP on the chance to look.

So of course all you psychics out there can predict how that wet: nope, he didn’t want to look at all.

At.all.

Well, I went about my looking (which, for the record, was not for clothes but for other project essentials… essentials I tell you!) and just happened to notice a pair of pants in the boys section that I thought my 11yo would like.

You remember…the 11yo who wears the same 3-4 shirts and doesn’t want to look at or buy clothes. Ever.

He is perfectly content when I fill the dresser with hand-me-downs each change of season and never feels the need to try things on (I do MAKE him try them on…much to his chagrin, but you probably already knew that; sure, there’s whining, and weeping & gnashing of teeth, so it’s clearly the twice-yearly event to which I look forward the most).

Anyway…I happened to notice some pants in the boys section and I thought he might like them. When I saw him milling about (he was perusing the toys which I wasn’t about to let him get any b/c there is no need for any more non-played-with toys in our house), I casually mentioned that I saw some pants he might like and that he should go check them out.

Insert eyeroll.

But he did go look. (Shock of all shocks!)

The next thing I knew, he was standing next to me, holding the pants. And asking where the fitting room was.

It was a Goodwill Miracle!

Of course I pointed them out to him…because he would have no idea where they would be. And I followed him over there.

But made sure he didn’t see me follow. Didn’t want to spook him…you know how he startles easily.

He went inside and (thankfully) closed the door…yes, I say thankfully only because this was a new experience for him and I didn’t really know what to expect.

Actually, I anticipated a very quick turn around time. Thirty seconds tops.

But after a few minutes, I was beginning to worry. “What was he doing in there?” Finally I called his name…right as he was exiting.

11yo: “What?!?” (like I was the idiot…)

But his irritation was short-lived. In fact, he was all a-twitter. “They fit but I think even in the fall that I’ll still have to wear a belt. And they come right down to the end of my Achilles Heel so by the fall they will be the perfect length. And I think they will be great when we play in the woods!”

Yes, yes they will.

Did I neglect to mention that this boy LOVES camouflage? L.O.V.E.S. it. Like nothing else.

Well, maybe like he loves the Packers.

Insert apologies here to my future DIL…I am choosing which hills to die on, and frankly...squashing his love of camo and/or the Pack are low on my list right now; that gauntlet very well may be passed on to you. I am choosing proper manners and holding utensils correctly and closing the bathroom door. Please forgive?

So I figured this was a home-run on my part. And I don’t mean to brag (but totally will) but I was right.

One last thing, though…we had to have a chat about where to wear the camo. Yes, add that to the list of conversations I never thought I would have: “Where camo is and is not appropriate to wear.”

Me: Just so we’re clear…these are NOT pants to wear to church. Ever.

11yo: Oh, I know…that’s what my GOOD camouflage pants are for.

So long as we’re clear…

Follow me on Facebook!

Dear DILs: Some Amends

My Dearest Future DILs,

I apologize that it's been so long since I last wrote to you...although I am certain that you won't notice the large time gaps by the time you read these….and you CERTAINLY will read them.

However the other random stuff  I doubt that you will ever read…but I feel that I need to make a couple amends for my post yesterday.

Yesterday was National Chocolate Chip Day. If you know me well at all (and since you are my DILs I pray that you do know me well...and in a good way), it will not surprise you that the PBA and I celebrated the "holiday" by making chocolate chip cookies.

But in the midst of my writing about the experience, I believe I inadvertently disparaged them a bit. I didn't mean to...it kind of slipped out in my frustration.

I believe that the frustration was of my own volition and in the future will try to remember to attempt kitchen home ec as a one-on-one lesson experience.

For the sanity of all parties involved.

I promise you, sweet girls, that I truly am trying to help these boys become the men God desires them to be and the husbands you deserve. I figure that if I can help them learn their way around the kitchen, all the better for you. And them, before there is a “you”.

Now…here’s where my amends come in. I have to tell you that they do possess a skill which I believe/hope/pray that you appreciate and are thankful for: they can do yardwork.

This includes, but is not limited to, mowing, weed pulling, and bush & tree limb trimming. I am certain they can do much more…I just don’t know about it.

Because frankly, I am inside the house. I have passed off the “to do” list to Mr. Always Random and shuffled inside to write (or perhaps bake) in relative peace.

Don’t get me wrong…I love to have them around, but I have figured out that they have so much to learn from Mr. AR as well. For the record, I am perfectly capable of doing it all: my father taught me. He didn’t have a son, and someone else needed to be out there mowing the lawn. Plus I wanted to learn…he paid me to mow.

Money: always a great motivator.

I did not pass that advantage along to the boys…nor do they need to know that I was paid for such a service in my own home. I am quick to tell them, when asked about such things, that they are compensated by having a roof over their heads and food in their bellies.

Yeah…I’m THAT kind of mom. Feel free to parent in the same manner…so far, it’s working out for me. Time may tell differently but for now, it’s my plan of attack.

But I digress…I was touting the skills of the PBA’s lawn care prowess. What they lack in terms of culinary skills they atone for in lawn care.

Yesterday, both I and Mr. AR (independent of and unbeknownst to one another) informed the PBA that the lawn needed to be mowed by the end of the week-end.

As an aside: In an attempt to help them with their time management skills, we assign a task without a deadline and allow them figure out when might be the best time to tackle said task.

It’s a work in progress.

And while they may be handy with yard work, they don’t seem to notice in advance that it needs to happen. As I would say even to Mr. AR: The y-chromosome is strong in them.

I’m working on it. In all of them. (Don’t tell Mr. AR that I included him in that.)

But…going back to this week-end…it was going to be slightly tricky to get that mowing task in. The 12yo has a soccer tournament, and the 11yo has a lacrosse tournament. Fortunately for us, they are both in the same side of town (though not the same town…that rarely ever works out, so make a note of that for future reference).

Just to add in some superfluous information for you: it also means that we are leaving about 6:30 in the morning and won’t be home until about 7 tomorrow night. Sunday is an immediate departure from church to head to the tournament…which means mid-late afternoon return home.

Who wants to mow after playing 3 soccer games?

Oh…and I failed to mention the on and off rain showers we’ve been having. It is spring in Indiana, so we’re not really surprised, but still…makes for a difficult time of getting the lawn mowed.

Thankfully the rain stopped long enough this afternoon AND the sun came out so they could get the mowing accomplished.

And not only COULD they…they actually DID get the mowing in.

AND I witnessed something that I didn’t know they even knew how to do: the 12yo knew how to fill the mower with gas. And how to start it.

And the 11yo also knew how to start it (they take turns with the mower since we only have one mower…I’m certain you didn’t think that we had two, but just to clarify…this is actually what brought about my epiphany earlier regarding baking with only one child at a time; if they are not working together things run more smoothly. Note to self: work on teamwork skills, but not in the kitchen.)

AND the 11yo also knew to put the mower away when he was finished. Plus, there are things which have to be moved in order to get the mower out, he knew to put them back as well.

Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition! It is a seemingly-small victory, but really it isn’t. It is another step on their journey for self-sufficiency. And being ready to take care of a wife. You are welcome.

In the meantime, though, I think we need to celebrate…good thing I already have some chocolate chip cookies made.

Love,

Your Future MIL

Follow me on Facebook!

Dear DILs: My Apologies to Mr. Crapper

To my Dear, Sweet DILs,

Words cannot describe to you how sorry I am but for some reason, SOMEONE in my family who shall remain nameless but is possibly the very same lady who gave birth to ME, told the boys a while ago that it was Mr. Thomas Crapper who invented the toilet.

It’s true…you can Google it if you don’t believe me.

Why did this sweet, quiet woman do this? I don’t know, because it’s probably not something we would have ever discussed when I was a child.

It’s truly amazing how boys can make you lose your filter of all things fit to discuss. I’m sure you’ll find that to be the case as well, especially if you have sons someday.

However, I do want you to know that at least one of my boys is learning how to clean a toilet. 

The way our household chores are divided up, the PBA are responsible for both their bathroom (yes, they share a bathroom…they have it rough, right?) and the guest bathroom.

NOTE: If you are a guest in our home, please overlook any imperfect cleaning which may or may not have happened in that bathroom; I try to keep an eye on it, but you know, I’m imperfect too.

Ideally, they each clean a bathroom, taking turns on who cleans which one. But no, they have elected the “assembly line” method…which I can totally appreciate. One cleans the sinks and the mirrors, the other one cleans the toilets.

And as an aside, you know that the toilet bowl is getting “well cleaned” when there is so much cleaner that the water is still foamy after the toilet’s been used and flushed three times.

Three times.

That’s a LOT of toilet bowl cleaner, lest you be unaware.

You might want to go ahead and invest in Lysol now, because I have not tried to make my own toilet bowl cleaner. Yet. Although I suspect vinegar would do the trick. It’s like a magic potion, that vinegar.

You’ll probably get a case of it from me as a wedding gift, so please do not be surprised or taken aback.

And just to bring us back to the topic I started out to discuss, regardless of however clean the toilet is, the tub is actually the polar opposite. It goes largely ignored. Gross? Sure…but it’s not high on my priorities list. These boys want to be fed EVERY day. And not just once…several times. That’s kind of a higher priority right now.

All that to say, try not to look in their shower stall if/when you ever come over…that’s what shower curtains are for.

As a general rule, in case your mama didn’t tell you, you should not EVER look behind the shower curtain in anyone’s house, as you may never look at someone the same way again.

I know of one Senior Saint, for instance, who stockpiles toilet paper in her tub. Buys it every time she sees it on sale. Yup, she does. It won’t go bad, so there’s no harm in that.

Plus, when the government starts limiting the amount of toilet paper we can purchase and then use, she will be set.

No, I’m not a conspiratist…why would you ask that?

I might very well do the same myself…stockpiling toilet paper. That, of course, being in addition to hiding candy in every drawer of the house, and stocking the freezer full of “ice cream novelties”.

"You just can’t have enough sugar in the house." = words to live by.

As I think about it, I am really starting to see the beauty in this woman’s plan.

Consider yourselves warned, ladies. And perhaps run the other way…not so much because of your husband-to-be, but because of your future MIL.

I do love you, darlings, and I pray for you often. Trust me…you’re going to need it.

Love,

Your Future MIL

Follow me on Facebook!

Dear DILs: Presenting The Bleach Boys

Laundry is a work in progress. To begin with, “we” don’t always load the machine correctly…as in, we sometimes just throw our stuff in and pay no heed to what has gone where…which usually means it is loaded off-balance. So it does that really annoying “k-thunk, k-thunk, k-thunk” when it gets to the spin cycle.

Once things come out of the wash, we once again pay no heed, although this time it is to what goes where…some things are hung up to dry, some things are paid out on the drying rack, and some things are put in the dryer. Typically everything goes in the dryer…it is much faster and easier to do this and deal with the repercussion later.

It is not often I allow them to remove things from the dryer. I just can’t risk ruining the clothes I worked so hard at a) getting into the washer and b) not destroying during the wash cycle (sometimes things get caught on the center post…we’ve ripped and stretched more clothing than I care to recall; frankly it’s too painful.

So once things are out of the dryer, there is still some room for error, though I hope you know that I am doing the very best I can. Sometimes when my son is folding the laundry, he gets confused. Just this week, he put my dress in my husband’s stack of laundry. Yes, that brings up many questions, but just to be clear, NO Mr. Always Random does not wear my clothes. At least not to my knowledge.

I’m going to make the assumption that it is because the dress was (ok it still IS) a black and white plaid, and he may have simply assumed that it was a shirt like one of many that his father wears for work.

At the same time, however, he also gave me one of the blue, green and white plaid shirts belonging to my husband.

This kind of makes me rethink my own look, if my clothes are being confused for my husband’s…but that is another issue for another time.

Perhaps it is because he thinks of my husband as the one wearing more neutral or “dull” colors, while I am thought of as bright and cheerful (you’ll find that to be the case as well, I am certain…).

So…I can explain away the previous issues (kind of), but there is one thing I cannot explain away. This same child sometimes gets my husband's skivvies confused with my bras. I do not know how or why...but he does. I will continue to work on this, as well as the other issues, but I make no promises that the kinks will be worked out by your wedding day.

One last thing about laundry (for now): neither boy ever wants to put laundry away. So once the laundry is folded and sorted by owner (appropriately) and everyone has taken their respective stack of laundry to the respective rooms (well, Mr. Always Random and I share a room…not every married couple does but we do. Just in case anyone was wondering.), the PBA leave it in a stack (well, it starts out as a stack) on the floor in their closets and pull clothing from it as needed. 

I have had repeated conversations about this and here’s what I figured you ladies can do to rectify it: either you put the clothes away for them or get used to seeing the same clothes often. Or don’t do laundry very often so they have to mix up the rotation. 

Whatever you choose: I wish you good luck and Godspeed. 

Love,Your future MIL 

PS Did you notice that I did not specify which son is having such issues with clothing gender identification...there has to be some element of surprise, right?

Follow me on Facebook!

Dear DILs: Dishes Aren't Really Their Thing

The dishwasher…let’s discuss. We have one. We all know that it works. They put things in it. But the dishes don’t usually seem to come out very clean.

I often reload it after they’ve walked away to avoid such issues; there's nothing I hate more than running a load in the dishwasher only to discover that most of the dishes are still dirty due to sub-par loading skills.

Ok, to say there's "nothing I hate more" is a little bit extreme but it's not too far off.

Also, apparently only people age 39 and older know how to fill the dispenser (with homemade detergent, I might add...) and actually start said dishwasher. So this will be good news for you when your husbands are older.

Thus far, we’ve had numerous chats, conversations, tense deliberations (ok, not really…I’m tense when I’m talking to them and they mostly sit there looking at me…there’s really no deliberating to speak of) regarding the loading and the running of the dishwasher, but we still can't get things to quite turn the corner.

Often I simply TRY to be thankful that they’re clearing their dishes and NOT leaving them on the table or on the counter.

Sometimes they do leave them on the counter, in which case they are called back into the kitchen to rectify their error.

If I don’t make them return and fix it, that leads to bad habits forming. How do I know this? Experience. It’s always experience. (That being said, you may want to simply chuck all the advice I have to dispense and learn it all for yourself...but please don't do that to yourselves! I assure you that I speak truth!)

Allowing them to leave their dishes all willy-nilly also leads to laziness. They are not lazy but will ACT lazy if given over to themselves. Also experience talking. And human nature.

The biggest pet peeve I have in terms of dirty dishes is the pair of aluminum, travel chopsticks owned by my oldest child. These little babies (I’m referring to the chopsticks here) come out anytime he eats anything “Asian”; but usually it’s simply a bowl of Ramen noodles (and yes, they both are skilled in the culinary art of Ramen noodles…this is how I know they won’t starve to death in college. Or hopefully ever.) which calls the chopsticks out of the drawer.

Said chopsticks cannot go in the dishwasher, so they must be hand-washed.

Question: If you know something needs to be hand-washed, and you really have nothing pressing to do, wouldn’t you just go ahead and wash them? Or even if you DO have something pressing to do, how long does it take to wash a pair of chopsticks? It’s not as though there are a bunch of pieces in which food can get stuck and you really have to scrub…just saying.

So…wouldn’t you just go ahead and get it done?!?

Me too.

This, however, is not usually the case with certain people who shall remain nameless.

We have the same issue with aluminum water bottles…and it’s not just one culprit. It is three (sure, I only have two kiddos, but Mr. Always Random can sometimes/often be lumped in with the PBA on certain things/issues.

I HATE them (the water bottles…not the three gentlemen who live with me…I am clearly having a modifier problem today!). And yet, because there is nothing physically wrong with them (again, referring to the water bottles), I cannot justify a) getting rid of them and b) getting some cute new plastic one which I can simply throw in the dishwasher.

I’m cheap in case you didn’t know…we will use them until another one bites the dust.

Everyone sing with me now:

And while we’re on the subject of the dishwasher, they also are a little bit fuzzy on the unloading of the dishwasher.

In spite of the fact that we’ve lived in our current home for over 8 years, they don’t know where things should be put away; this, in conjunction with the fact that the place something “lives” has probably never changed, should places this task on the "easy" end of the spectrum.

Or if an item has moved, it is probably only one cabinet over…easy to find if you just.open.your.eyes. (I’m really not bitter…it only sounds that way; I blame you for reading it with an insinuating tone.)

Case in point: my husband or my sons will help me empty the dishwasher. If they are doing it without supervision, it doesn't always go so great, so I try to be present if at all possible. They will put as many things as they can in either the drying rack or on a dishtowel on the counter, asserting that it is “still wet”.

Still wet? Seriously? It’s been air-drying for the past 8+ hours…I’m pretty sure you can put it away, or at the very least use that dishtowel and wipe the drop of water lingering on the edge and put it away.

Bottom line: they want credit for “helping” (which, it’s not “helping” when you should be doing it anyway…who assigned me as the official "dish-putter-awayer"?  Just my two cents...) but when little is truly put away, and is simply transferred from the dishwasher to the drying rack, that is not “helping”.

Tis true: now the dirty dishes from the sink and the counter are now in the dishwasher, but now I have a bunch of clean dishes in the sink and on the counter.

Potato-potahtoe.

But they (again...referring to the boys...but Mr. Always Random too) are awfully cute and fun to have around. And they really do try...they try my patience most of all (I tell them that to their faces, so know that I'm not talking behind their backs.)

I suppose I will keep them.

I pray you do too.  And please know that I tried to train them in the nuances of clean & dirty dishes; I’m praying that it’s all turned around by the time they get to you.

Love,

Your Future MIL

Follow me on Facebook!

Dear DILs: Lysol is Your Best Friend

Today I begin a series (we'll see how long I can maintain this...no promises) of posts dedicated to my future Daughters-in-Law (abbreviated DILs). There are many things I want them to know...including, but not limited to, how I am doing the best I possibly can to prepare these boys to become good husbands.

I figure if I write the experiences down then maybe I can remember what I want to share. NOTE: If you know me in a few years when my boys get engaged (did I really just say "a few years"...I mean in 20 years...that sounds about right), remind me that I recorded these things to pass on to the girls. There is a distinct possibility I may otherwise forget.

__________________________________

Dear Future DILs,

There is so much wisdom, my darlings, that I want to impart to you. Things about these sweet boys, things about me and my husband, things about how we have opted to raise our boys. 

So much to share, so little time. 

Most of all, I truly want you to know how much I enjoy being their mama, and that I am working hard on your behalf to raise them to become amazing, God-fearing, household-leading husbands for you. 

I know that I'll never get it all down on paper but I shall do my best. I wish I had started years ago, so we could all see the progression, the successes and the areas in which we may need to give a little bit more effort.

But instead I will start where we currently are. And I shall start out with something in which I haven't had much luck in making a dent...not even much with Mr. Always Random.

First off is this: Boys are gross. Just know that now going into this thing called “marriage” and you’ll have a much easier time.

Maybe you have brothers and already know most of this, but lest you be an only child, or be familiar only with sisters, I felt compelled to share this information with you.

And trust me, even if you have brothers, I suspect being married to a boy is a different echelon of gross than you may have experienced in the past (no offense intended to my darling husband. Hugs to Mr. Always Random!)

I will admit that boys are pretty good at hiding the fact when you are dating, or even just when you are friends. I don’t know exactly how they do it, but they do.

I suppose it also has something to do with the phrase “Love covers a multitude of sins”; unfortunately the same does not go for “boy funk”.

I won’t go into what exactly that means, but you would be wise invest in some Lysol.

When you are working on your gift registry, you might even consider simply registering for a case of it while at Target, in fact. And/or buy it any time you see that it’s on sale. I assure you that it won’t go bad before it’s utilized.

Good ole Lysol spray…kills the germs that cause horrible odors. And no, I am not receiving a cut from this infomercial…I’m simply plugging a quality product.

This stuff works wonders. Specifically in shoes. 

And shinguards and shoulder pads.

And sports bags. 

And bathrooms. Boys claim that they’re paying attention in the bathroom, but believe me: they are not; they’re scratching, they’re stretching, they’re looking around. If you haven’t experienced a bathroom inhabited by boys, I really don’t aim (pardon the pun, because they don’t aim) to scare you off and I shall leave it at this: trust me when I say that if you’ve never been big into cleaning, you will be once you get married. Bathrooms at the very least.

This is minimal. It may get worse. Consider yourself warned.  With that I wish you good luck and Godspeed.

Love,

Your future MIL