Some May Call My Grandma Scrappy

This title was a clever attempt to give a nod to my grandma’s penchant for scrapbooking, long before it was “in”.

And even though she didn’t labor for hours over one page (as some people may do now)…she got the job done.

So much so that her scrapbook commemorating my grandpa’s service in WWII is still holding together fairly well (considering its age).

But I am getting ahead of myself…

So recently (ok, not so recently now as I am actually taking the time to write this…more like 2-3 weeks ago…or more. Frankly, I’ve lost count of the time), my mom brought me a scrapbook and a photo album she found when she and my grandma were going through some boxes at grandma’s.

Much to our delight, we learned some things about Grandpa Jim (and Grandma Lois) through the book.

Such as: we had no idea that Grandpa had been in Germany during WWII.

No.clue.

We knew about England and France, but that was it.

I’m not sure how it never came up, because he would talk about the war, but it never did.

I’m certain it was not at all because we were not listening.

And also through this book, we realized (perhaps my mom knew this, but I did not) that Grandma is either a sentimental sort, or a packrat.

Or lies somewhere in the middle.

Because this scrapbook contained all sorts of little treasures such as Grandpa’s last pay stub before he went off to war; his induction orders; his letter of promotion to Sergeant; orders of who is shipping out where and when; a copy of his life insurance application, through the US government; every telegraph he sent to her; and the list goes on.

But I have elected not to show you those things because there are numbers on them which may still be relevant and I don’t want to be the cause of anything being unlawfully stolen or used inappropriately.

I’m certain you understand. Just oooh and ahh that Grandpa Jim’s family can enjoy all these little bits of history we’ve been given, and be vicariously happy for us.

However, there are many other things which I can (and will) show you.

Which brings me to this: Warning!!! Picture overload!

What you are about to see will either be

1. extremely interesting to you and you will be uber-excited to see it,
2. not at all interesting to you and you could not care less about it, or
3. somewhere in the middle.

I like to hedge my bets when I make predictions. You may have noticed.

No worries, I won’t show you EVERY picture…but there are a few, so feel free to settle in to your sofa because it may take a while.

Also…one other disclaimer: I didn’t bother scanning these in. We shall all pretend that it is because these photos and other items are glued into a book which does not have removable pages and scanning would be terribly difficult…and it is NOT because I am still not entirely certain how to operate the scanner.

All that rambling to say…don’t judge the quality of these photos…I did the best I could with my little phone.

So with that, I shall begin down Grandma’s memory lane.

I love that there's an American flag sticker on the front, which clearly began to peel off so it was stuck down with some scotch tape

Inside cover of the album...a song sheet

Appears to be a newspaper for the troops...was stuck in the front of the album; dated December 11, 1944

Hotels receipts from DC...I think Grandpa was there before shipping out; Grandma went to visit him there.

A GIANT Easter card he sent to Grandma

Postcards he sent...some slightly off-color. Awesome. 

In the lower left...a government-issued song book for the troops.

This is self-explanatory, I think...

Money and items from England

Close-up from the above photo...makes me laugh out loud, both that it was printed, and that Grandma Lois kept it!

Money from France, Luxembourg, Belgium and Germany

German Cigarette Coupons (I'm so glad she labeled it otherwise we would have no clue...and it's doubtful she would have remembered)

Cover of the photo album

Grandpa, the soldier

Grandma Lois is on the right

Grandma and Grandpa in DC...and I that is a family friend on the right

Not sure who took this of my grandparents walking down the street in DC, but it's one of my favorites of them.

Grandpa at his barracks

From his time in England

Love that he took pictures of the work they were doing, rebuilding areas which had been bombed out. Notice the photo second down on the left. Yes...those are men using the latrine. He was a man-child. Grandpa was only 17 when he enlisted...he lied about his age so he could join. I think about this as I consider that I have a 13yo...only 4 years older than him and he went off to fight in a war?!?

If you look closely, the men/boys are having a snowball fight in the upper left.

More bombed out buildings

I would love love love to know why Grandpa is posing with this family...did he know them, did he form a relationship with them?
What country was this even taken?

Grandma and Grandpa on the left, Grandma's sister "Aunt Shorty," and the same family friend as in the photo a few above

Grandpa is on the right in the very front row.

I know this wasn't the most well-thought out or well-written post, but I was just thrilled to bits to have this piece of my own family's history and I wanted to share it with you. Thank you for endulging me.

And if you ever want to see these live and in the flesh, don't hesitate to ask...I'd relish the opportunity to share it with you!

A huge thank you to my grandma for preserving these memories for future generations to enjoy!

Lastly, a huge thank you to my grandpa and every other man and woman who have fought to preserve our freedom.

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

My 500th Post Also Happens to Be An Addendum

Yes, ladies and gentlemen...this is my 500th post. It's hard to believe it's been just over 2 years that I've been writing this blog.

And that some people have been reading it all along. To them I say "Thank you".

In fact, I say "Thank you" to each and everyone of you who takes the time to read my randomness, whether it be once in a while or devoutly. Regardless...I appreciate it. I would especially like to give a huge shout out to all my fans who apparently live in Russia...do you I say,

 "спасибо".

(I am really hoping I didn't put something profane in my post...Google told me it means "Thank you" in Russian...and I have NEVER known Google to lie.)

I would appreciate all of your visits (not so much from Russia but elsewhere) more if you took the time to comment so I know what you are thinking...but for now I'll simply accept that you're reading it. 

Mostly because I am fully-aware that my posts sometimes do not include full details or a complete ending.

Or may necessitate an addendum because I simply did not complete my diatribe (look at me...I got the right word today) from the previous day.

And with that comment, I shall seamlessly transition right into my reason for today's post: an addendum to yesterday.

Yes, yesterday's post prattled on and on, but there were words left untyped, photos unintentionally omitted, and I felt as though I must rectify the situation.

To begin with, I realized this morning (why? I'll never know...sometimes things pop in my head randomly...surely this is not a surprise to you, is it?) that I had completely neglected to include my photos of the meat pies.

I did go back in and add them, but just in case you are not feeling up to all the trouble of clicking on the link above, I shall include them here as well:

So now that my mouth is watering, I shall move on.

I did want to also address why I believe my neighbor's visitors only know two words in English...it's partially due to the conversation in which I took over the loaf of bread.

It is also due to the fact that if we see the two of them (did I tell you that it's a man and woman who are visitors? I don't think I did, which is why I am telling you now) out walking the twins in their little tandem stroller...

OK, I have to stop for a moment and talk about those twins. They are, hands-down, some of the C.U.T.E.S.T. little twins I have ever seen. Oh...I just want to pinch their cute little chubby fraternal-twin cheeks.

Thus far I have refrained b/c that MIGHT be crossing some sort of cultural line of which I am unaware.

But also because they stare at me with these big, beautiful brown eyes that are always questioning, "What is up with that woman?"

I didn't know I was clairvoyant until I met them, but trust me...it's true. I know that's what they are asking.

To be fair, they are not the first to think it, so it may be a fairly-substantiated question.

And yes, since you are undoubtedly wondering, I DO know their names...but I can never remember which one is which so it really doesn't help me much, now does it?

Anyway...the visitors walking the twins...are you back with me? 

So here's the other reason I think "Hello" and "Thank you!" are all the English they may know: because when we see them outside, they wave and call out, "Hello! Thank you! Hello! Thank you!"

Now that was some of my finest zucchini bread work, to elicit such a response, right? Days later and they are STILL thanking me?

Just to be clear...I am not mocking his English in any way. Because how many words do I know in Chinese? Only ones which relate to food. 

And even then, those are kind of sketchy...because do you HONESTLY think "General Tso's Chicken" is a dish in China? (Actually, I know for a fact that it and most of the foods we Americans eat which are labeled "Chinese" are nothing close to authentic Chinese)...but playing devil's advocate...if it WAS a legitimate Chinese dish, would is be called "General Tso's Chicken"? What about eggroll? Egg Drop Soup? Shall I go on? I think I've made my point: I know zippo Chinese.

None. Nada. Zilch.

Mostly what I am trying to say is that even though our language barriers are severe, they are the ones making an attempt...they are two words up on me.

I think I'll just keep on sending over food...it's the international language, right? Do you think they would like a pound cake?

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

Today I Was a Glutton

Disclaimer: This is more or less a rambling dialogue (not even a dialogue but I struggled to come up with a better word, so for now “dialogue” will have to do) of my day and how hard it was.

Definitely “hard” of my own volition…of sorts.

And believe me when I say that I realized at the time, and most assuredly realize it now, that all these struggles are very much First World Problems. I make no presumption that it is anything but…so please take this with a grain of salt.

What we have here is a failure to communicate…sorry, fell into “Cool Hand Luke” momentarily.

What we REALLY have here is a person who has had blessings upon blessings for her entire life and feels like she’s just now waking up to the reality around here.

Or waking up again.

Or finally willing to acknowledge it.

I’m still processing; please bare with me.

So with that…I give you my day:

Just to be clear, I was a glutton for punishment…because apparently I thought (for some deluded reason) that I had this “temptation thing” beat.

It’s been a week, for crying out loud…how long does it take?

Before you send me hate mail or leave comments which insinuate that I am an idiot, please know that I am totally kidding; I am well-aware that it take two weeks to conquer the grip of temptation.

Or maybe a month.

Or a year.

Probably a lifetime, if I am truthful.

I have decided that I would like to continue eating the way I am now (with the exception of adding a couple-few more foods…seven is a little more limiting than one might think)…only because I feel so good (I MAY have mentioned that once or twice already).

But let’s be realistic, shall we? I don’t know if I can and/or will maintain this.

Because here’s the real deal: I love food. I love junk food, I love fried food, I love food that isn’t really food (insert Velveeta…yes, it’s like one ingredient away from totally being plastic and I LURVE it! I craved it when I was pregnant with my 13yo…as in I would consume a 2 lb block of the stuff in a week. Or less. Don’t judge.)

But enough of THAT dirty laundry…we shall revisit that issue another time.

I was here to tell you that I clearly thought I had things under control after just a week.

I may have been deceived. Well, deceived myself...let's be completely honest here.

It began with my 11yo…look at me throwing him right under the bus.

He has his 6^th grade shots/well-child doctor appointment today. I was somewhat anxious about it because if you know him at all, you know that he is on the small end of the spectrum.

I’m always nervous before we go to the doctor that he has somehow slipped off the growth chart. True, there would be worse things in the world, but at the moment we face the doctor’s appointment, I am hard-pressed to think of one.

He’s been close to being off the chart in the past…as in 1^st-2^nd percentile in height and weight. At the age of 5, he was the size of a 2 year, 8 month old child.

We did all the testing with a pediatric endocrinologist at that point. What was the consensus? He’s a late bloomer.

To be fair, I am not the tallest woman on the planet, so it is possible that he got some of my genes (he does resemble me a bit…) but I was always on target with my growth until I turned 12. When I stopped growing up and commenced growing out. 

BTW, lest you be unaware, age 12 is a perfectly normal time and place for a girl to stop growing; fingers crossed my 70 pound, 4 ft 6 inch baby boy doesn’t top out at age 12.

In fact, a couple months ago when I told him that I stopped growing at age 12, he looked as though he’s had a stroke; fortunately, because I am so astute, I picked up on his panic and informed him that boys can continue growing up into their early 20’s.

That seemed to make him feel better. I, however, continue to stew about it. As any good parent would say, "Do as I say, not as I do."

My point in telling you all this: I’m a stress eater. But even this stress/worry/cause for concern over the doctor’s appointment did not send me off in a manic, feeding frenzy.

I was cool, calm and collected.

On the way to the appointment, I noticed that Chick-Fila-A had free 3-piece chicken minis this morning until 10:30.

So as a bribe to help my 11yo man-up during his shots today, I told him I’d take him to get chicken-minis afterwards.

He made nary a peep…except when it was over, he did say, “I feel like I’ve been shot!”

And because I know you want to know...he's hanging in there at 10th percentile. Hard to imagine that there are boys his age which are smaller than him, but God made us all different...that's what I tell him too.

So we went to Chick-Fil-A and came away with two orders of chicken minis.

Now before you go judging me, the second one was for my 13yo, who had stayed at home to do his school work.

I wasn’t even tempted to eat them…until we stopped at Walgreens to buy eggs (yes, eggs from Walgreens…don’t judge…they are only $1.29/dozen this week; I bought 6 dozen. That might last us a week, if we are lucky).

When we got back in the car, the smell of Chick-Fil-A had permeated the entire vehicle.

I rolled down the windows to disperse the scent.

It helped. Kind of. I still made my 11yo carry the “gift for his brother” into the house.

Then after we got home, I had to start prepping the meal I had offered to bring to my neighbor who is fresh off of surgery.

I made nothing which was close to being on my list…and even that was a stretch:

• Baked pasta with tomato sauce and lots of cheese
• French bread
• Brownies with chocolate icing
• And zucchini bread (to have as a snack or breakfast).

So yeah…that was hard.

I began with the pasta b/c I figured it would be easiest to deny myself.

And true…pasta in and of itself was not tempting at all.

Once I put the cheese and sauce on it…game on. My mouth was involuntarily watering.

It may or may not be watering as I record the account of my day.

But I continued…I didn’t even lick a spoon. Though I very-much wanted to. I knew it would be all over with if I did.

Then I began the bread. Yes, I cheated on making the bread; I have a bread machine. So I dumped in the ingredients and pushed start.

No temptation there, right?

Not until it was finished 3 hours and 50 minutes later…and smelled as I figure Heaven will. That is if it doesn’t smell like brownies.

Which brings me to my next point (oooo, ahhh…smooth transition): the brownies.

I thought it wouldn’t be any.big.deal. I would make them right after lunch and wouldn’t be hungry or tempted or anything.

I would even brush my teeth, which sometimes acts as a deterrent to eating an additional “bite of something sweet”.

I know that the teeth brushing theory sounds nuts, but it does, on occasion, do just the trick.

But as the day would have it (it was a Monday after all) I didn’t get to make the brownies until 5.

Which meant I was hungry…bordering on hunangry.

I didn’t realize how much I do when I make brownies which is involuntary: lick the scraper once they’re in the pan; scrape out the bowl and lick the scraper again; stick my face in the bowl to finish cleaning up what the scraper missed.

But…I maintained control and did not engage in any of those activities.

Barely.

I even went so far as to hand-wash the bowl and scraper…so as to not be tempted to pull them back out of the dishwasher and lick them.

Yeah…my sugar addition is a force to be reckoned with.

Fierce, I tell you.

I breathed a sigh of relief (yes, audibly…I am well-aware that it sounds so cliché, and it probably is, but that’s exactly what I did) that I kept on keeping on with this path God has put me on (crazy though it seems/is) and sat down at my computer to tell you about it.

I happened to look down after typing for a while, and there on my desk was a huge smear of chocolate brownie batter dough.

After a quick inspection, I discovered it was all over my left forearm.

And I started to lick it.

For real, autonomic nervous system self? You’re going to lick your dirty arm just for a little taste of some chocolate-laden preservative?

Why yes, totally calm and sometimes rational self…I am.

Clarity ensued and I didn’t do it.

Argh…this is harder than I thought it would be.

Confession: I did have 1 ½ pieces of the fresh bread at dinner instead of my whole wheat bread…and it.was.ah-mazing.

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

Ten Things of Thankful: Mutiny Experiment Edition

I have been absent on The Hop for weeks. OK, let's be honest with ourselves...it's been months. If you are newer to this place, I’m certain I seem new to you at this moment...and I am perfectly fine with that. But I must confess that I used to be here faithfully each week. But life got in the way…blah, blah, blah.

But this morning, as I was ruminating on my first week through The Mutiny Experiment (there are 4 posts in which I have discussed it to some degree…lest you be interested in further explanation on why I am sounding something like a deranged woman in my list of thankfuls below, you can click here to find the initial one), and I was overwhelmed with a thankful heart.

And knew I must share my thankfuls…not just on the blogosphere, but here specifically at The Hop.

So thank you, Lizzi, for keeping this beautiful thing going and allowing me the chance to jump in as I’m able and inspired.

Without further delay, here is my Ten Things of Thankful Mutiny Edition:

1. So far I have been able to find eggs and berries on sale at decent prices…knowing at some point I may not, I have been glad for it while it's been available.
2. That I bought a 5-pound bag of quinoa a few weeks ago, not knowing that we would be making good use of it so expeditiously.
3. That there are several ways to combine these foods to give some semblance of variety: quinoa, beans and chicken served cold or warm; black bean and chicken soup; scrambled eggs with spinach and quinoa; quinoa and black bean burgers (includes spinach and eggs also); spinach salad with cold roasted chicken and hard-boiled egg. Now I ask you: does that sound ALL that bad? I suppose if you don’t like one or more of those ingredients it would, but I think it’s provided us with sufficient variety so far…we ARE only one week in, with three weeks to go.
4. Physically, I feel better…no more headaches, no mid-afternoon slump, none of that. And that I am thinking more carefully about what I put into my mouth and seeing the correlation between good food and feeling good.
5. I have this magnesium thing straightened out and haven’t had restless leg issues (yes, it is a real thing, people…I have had a few people ask me about it. Sure, it sounds C.R.A.Z.Y. but it is VERY REAL) for the past 2 nights…although Mr. AR said that when I first fall asleep and he’s still awake, my legs have been giving some violent individual jerks. Fortunately for me, I am sleeping through it.
6. That I found a bit of a loophole and have enjoyed some frozen yogurt the past two days. Lest you be curious, I don’t think it totally negates my objectives. And if anything, it makes me MORE thankful for it/variety/a taste of sugar than I ever was before. At the same time, it is not an all-consuming desire for sugar when I eat it…but I am wondering if somehow it is helping me sleep better? I figure I’d better not risk it and keep eating a little bit of frozen yogurt before bed. (Confession: I also added one slice of whole wheat bread to each dinner, which may also help eliminate the RLS.)
7. That in searching message boards to discern why my restless leg had flared up so terribly, I had a minor panic attack that I might end up GAINING weight on this fast-of-sorts b/c of the increased in fat and protein in my diet. So I am thankful for myfitnesspal.com where I am able to track it and make sure that I am not too skewed in one direction or another.
8. The discovery that berries (strawberries especially) are lovely on spinach…even without dressing; even the PBA like it…which is saying something. (NOTE: I have had strawberry and spinach salad in the past, but was always drowning in a vinegrette…I encourage each of you to try it WITHOUT the dressing; you’ll barely notice that it’s gone. I promise!)
9. I am spending WAY more time in the kitchen that I usually do…this “little to no processed foods” thing is kind of hard. Which, I know full-well, is why we haven’t done it before. Don’t get me wrong, we are still stocked with processed foods in our house…as I won’t throw away “perfectly good food” although I know it’s NOT “perfectly good food”. But I did spend money on it and I can’t just let it go to waste. I am trying to have the boys, to some degree, “eat down the stash” during this time so that when we are finished, we can all start new. So yes, I guess I am encouraging my kiddos to eat the craptastic diet just a little while longer. For the record…not ALL the time, just occasionally, so it’s not a full-force effect on their systems. All this rambling to say in this: I am thankful that I am a stay-at-home/homeschooler mom who IS home and CAN spend time in the kitchen to prepare things from scratch: roasted chicken, home-made yogurt, washing the fruit and veggies, making the quinoa, boiling the eggs…all those things that take time, or need some “baby-sitting” which would be a struggle to accomplish if I were working outside the home.
10. And rounding out my list for today: I am not NEARLY as hungry as I was at the beginning…which, I assume, was part of my body detoxing from my overt sugar addiction. Or just me over-eating.

So what are you thankful for this week?

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

A Huge Blog Fan

See...I told you that I wouldn't just talk about The Mutiny...look at me being kind of shallow today. I know...it's really what the people want, right?
_________

I had always dared to dream that someday a fan of my blog would approach me and confide that my writing had changed her life.

I suppose I would be equally excited if it was a man, but as the scene plays out in my head, it’s always a woman.

That right there tells you the level of my vanity….I’m assuming there’s at least one “fan of the blog”.

I know I joke about it, but it’s truly not that I think my writing is all that spectacular…but I hope that other people think that it is.

I struggle with it…I’ll admit I OFTEN struggle with it. There are so many things I almost do not post b/c I’m not sure it’s good enough/interesting enough/filtered enough.

If you read my blog at all, you know that “almost do not post” does not mean that they don’t get published. Because frankly, most of it does.

While I’m going down this “true confessions” lane, I will confess that above all else, I wonder what would make people want to read this blog.

And more importantly, what would make them come back and read more. (I am truly not meaning to pander for compliments here, just feedback. Feel free to weigh in on the comments with why you read this blog, because I honestly want to know...I want to give the people what they want!)

I have given this some thought and this would be the pinnacle of all praise (at least in my little blogger mind): if someone went back to the very beginning of my blog and read every single post.

Mind you…I am uber-thankful to those of you who have hung in there since the beginning. And I do mean “hung in there” because I know not every post is a homerun. I try but sometimes I have “a swing and a miss”.

Yes, a baseball reference from someone who despises baseball. Just because I don’t like the game doesn’t mean I don’t know a little something about it.

When I first met Mr. AR, he played softball…which is not the same thing as baseball but in my mind it is close enough. I can only assume it is close enough for most of you as well.

It's enough for the reference...that's what I'm all about.

But there is one thing that makes softball better than baseball: softball games have time limits.

Yeah, I said it.

But I have digressed.

In terms of people reading all my posts, what I was talking about was/is someone who is just now “meeting me” and who takes the time to go back and read them.

All.

Every.single.one.

Because that’s true love right there.

Or maybe stalking. It’s kind of a fine line.

I have done that with only one blog and the writer was a woman who hadn’t even written a new post in over a year…she still hasn’t written anything new. She just stopped. Cold turkey. 

But she left her blog out there. Odd, huh?

(In fact, I’m still waiting for her to write something new. That’s a good blog right there…leave them wanting more.)

I’m sure some of you were maybe thinking that I was on the verge of doing the same, when I dropped off the planet for a few days last week.

Even my mother was harassing me about it.

OK, not really “harassing” but when I mentioned my lack of time to write, her response was, “I know…I keep checking the blog and there’s nothing new!”

So at least my mother enjoys my writing. Or at least pretends to.

And possibly my dad too.

But I have digressed.

My point in all this (as you may or may not have guessed) was to tell you this: I met someone last week who opened with "I am a huge blog fan!"

Squee!!!!

I don’t think I actually, audibly said that…but maybe.

It’s all kind of a blur.

I think I almost passed out.

Oh yes. For reals.

Or not…I’ve been known to embellish sometimes. A hyperbole, if you will.

I think I kept my cool, though…I’ve got a reputation to uphold for crying out loud. Calm, cool, and collected.

And yes, it wasn't that my blog had changed her life...but it was close enough for me to claim it in the moment.

Over the course of our conversation, she shared that she was considering writing a blog, but wasn’t sure on the theme. She said that she’d considered writing about her daughter because, as she shared, she and her husband only have one child and (to quote her…I’m such a journalism major, attributing my quotes) “people always think that's weird.”

Of course, I interrupted to share that I, myself, am an only child.

And her response was, "You are?!? I love meeting well-adjusted only children!"

My heart sank. Did she just say “well-adjusted”? She did say she reads the blog, right? I think she needs to go back to the beginning and read all the way through, don’t you, because I’m not certain that “well-adjusted” is a word that’s ever been used to describe me.

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

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")