Wherein I pat myself on the back and reveal a secret

I've posted pictures and praise a time or two here on Grandma's Briefs about the accomplishments of my daughters when it comes to races and running. I'm proud of them and their pursuits, and I sincerely wish I could do the same.

On Saturday I came close to exactly that, in a relative sort of way, and I'm pretty darn proud of myself. Hence the "pat myself on the back" part of the title. In order for that pat to make sense to most readers, though, I must first share a secret. Well, it's not really a secret, as I've not hidden it from anyone, I just don't blatantly address it. Most offline friends—and a few online ones—know of my so-called secret. Now you all will.

The secret is this: I have MS. Multiple sclerosis. This coming Sunday—Mother's Day, May 13—marks twenty years since I was diagnosed. I do quite well with it, far better than many, as I was fortunate to end up with the relapsing-remitting form, not the progressive form. In fact, it's been a blessing in my life, to a certain degree, thanks to various things I've learned, changed, accepted because of it.

My MS does not define me, and it's really not important that you know I have it—except when it comes to understanding today's back-patting post.

You see, on Saturday morning I participated in the National MS Society's annual Walk MS event, along with Brianna and Andrea—and Jim, who served as moral support and photographer. I had walked it in 2008 to, in my opinion, rather disastrous results. I finished the walk—finding it far more challenging reaching the finish line than expected, thanks to a dragging foot—but I could not make it to the car afterward. Brianna had to bring the car to me.

Ever since, I've been afraid to attempt the Walk MS event again. Until this year.

In early March, I believe it was, I saw the commercial on TV and immediately texted Brianna and Andrea to ask if they'd join me. They enthusiastically said "yes," and we were off and running. Or, walking. On Saturday.

Saturday's walk featured a one-mile course that continued on for a three-mile course for those who felt up to it. In 2008, the one-mile kicked my butt. This year, I was able to do the entire three-mile course and still managed to walk back to the car, which was nearly another freakin' mile, it seemed, thanks to the thousand or so participants.

Yay for Lisa! Pat, pat, pat on my very own back! I felt like following Baby Mac's lead and babbling, "I did it! I did it!"

Here are highlights:

Not only did I prove I could do it, I thoroughly enjoyed the morning with my daughters as they matched my pace to a military style march much like the one I do when walking my dogs (repeated in my head, not aloud...for the most part). Let me assure you, it's much more fun marching with my girls.

It was a good day.

I just had to share.

Thank you for indulging me.

<pat> <pat> <pat>

Today's question:

What accomplishments have you recently patted yourself on the back for? (And I do hope you have given yourself a pat, no matter how big or small the accomplishment.)

Photo replay: Grandma's favorite Things

I always swore I'd never wear a grandma sweatshirt or T-shirt. That was before seeing this one and the related shirts for Baby Mac and Bubby that Megan and Preston brought back from their conference.

I am indeed the Grandmother of all Things—well, at least two of them—and will proudly wear the title and T-shirt.

Have a magical Sunday!

The Saturday Post: Granny O'Grimm edition

Forget Julia Roberts in Mirror, Mirror and Charlize Theron in Snow White and the Huntsman, this is a fairy tale for the grandma gang.

I love the line, "She'd show them how it is to feel old and constantly sleepy." Oh, yeah!

Today's question:

What was your favorite fairy tale as a child—or now?

Small talk with my grandson

Bubby, at nearly four years old, has reached the age where we can easily converse about this and that. I understand all he says; he understands most of what I say. When he doesn't understand, he's quick to request clarification with a blunt, "What do you MEAN, Gramma?"

I've never been good at small talk, but when it's with Bubby, I'm easily engaged and entertained as long for as he's willing to keep up the chatter. I love to hear his thoughts, his interesting view on the world around him and the people near and dear to him. It usually ends up being not such small talk after all.

Here's a sampling of the delightful mind nuggets my grandson shared during our time together last week:

Out of nowhere and completely unrelated to anything that came before, Bubby asked, "Have you ever holded a fish? Wouldn't that be so cute? Maybe if they're sad, you could do that. I've always wanted to do that but Mommy never lets me."

"Gramma, do you wanna play the hip-hop scotch game?" (Meaning hopscotch, I assure you, not a rowsing drinking game of sorts.)

One evening as we settled onto the couch for storytime before bed, I had Baby Mac on my lap, Bubby at my side. Bubby, who was to hold the book and be the designated page turner, kept staring at his brother instead of getting on with his job. "Why do you keep looking at him?" I asked. Bubby's response: "<Baby Mac's> head is getting so cute, don't you think?"

"I love your muddy buddies, Gramma! maybe one time you can save a little bit of these for a dessert because mommy never ever has these kind of candy."

Bubby and I had been talking about horses and I told him about the day PawDad, Aunt B (Brianna), and I rode horses at my sister's ranch. "Gramma, horses don't like RANCH!" he said. "Ranch is for carrots. It's white. It's not for horses!"

Bubby: "You look so pretty in that dress, Gramma."
Gramma: "Why thank you, Bubby. That's so sweet."
Bubby (seeming a little sad and confused that the conversation ended there): "Every time I tell my mommy she looks pretty, she gives me a hug."
Needless to say, Bubby got his hug.

Today's fill-in-the-blank:

A memorable comment I recently heard from a child was _____________________.

Boys and girl's toys

Yes, the apostrophe use—and non use—in the title above is correct, for today's post is about two boys and their discovery of one girl's toys.

You see, Megan has agreed to babysit a 16-month-old little girl a couple of days a week. Her first day on the job was Monday, while I was still visiting.

Daisy* arrived with all the basic supplies plus a big bundle of her favorite toys. A smart inclusion, those playthings, considering Megan's house is inhabited by little boys, with nary a girl toy in sight.

Bubby and Baby Mac are used to cars, trucks, trains and noisy toys of all sorts, all in big, bold, primary—and boy-like—colors. They had never seen such pink and feminine fanciness before. 

Pink cell phone, pink makeup case, pink purse and more. The boys were completely enthralled by the mysterious selection of girlee goodies.

Funny thing is, Daisy seemed to be just as enthralled by the boy toys. The very first toy she chose to play with? A fake sword.

Like I told Megan and Preston: I now have a better idea of what to get the boys for their birthdays in June.

*Daisy is not her real name, as her mother has no idea the boys have a blogging grandma who shares things online. No biggie, as the names I use here for the boys aren't their real names either. Unlike the boys, though, the cute little girl's face was obviously blurred in the photo above because, again, her mother has no idea there was a blogger in the midst and granted no permission.

Today's question:

What are your thoughts on gender-specific toys? For example, should little boys get to play with dolls and little girls with pirate playthings?