Week 5: Emergency House Cleanup

Now, as a housewife, I know I am obligated to occasionally clean the house.

I have read a lot of other blog posts about "how to clean your entire house" and, well, frankly their techniques do not work for me. So here's mine!

I always, always, always start out by playing some groovy tunes.

Okay not really "groovy". Just whatever music I'm feeling that day.

1. Have a box or bag to put all the things in that don't belong in the room you find them in. Have a garbage bag for trash, box or bag for recycling and hamper for all the dirty laundry available. Have broom, mop, rags, cleaners and vacuum out and ready to be used.

2. I start in the living room. Put away toys, straighten the couch, take dirty dishes to kitchen and put them right in the dishwasher or sink full of hot soapy water. Empty garbage in living room (if you have one).

3. Sweep & wash living room floor. Allow to dry.

4. Collect all laundry and bedding. Start a load.

5. Repeat steps 2 & 3 for family room, dining room, hallways, etc.

6. Now the kitchen. Wash all dishes you have collected. Clear countertops. Empty garbages. Wipe down stovetop and counters. Sweep and clean floor.

7. Clear everything off bathroom floor/counters. Spray it all with cleaner. Spray toilet bowl and tub/shower. Allow to sit.

8. Switch laundry to dryer. Start a new load.

9. Repeat step 7 for any additional bathrooms.

10. Dry dust surfaces in living room, family room, dining room, hallways, etc. Shake smaller floor mats outside. Dust the ceilings, light fixtures and fans. Wash baseboards.

11. Wipe down bathroom, including toilet and tub/shower. Wash floor. Repeat for additional bathrooms.

12. Switch laundry to dryer. Start a new load. Fold first load of laundry. Put away.

13. Use rag and window cleaner to wash all windows and mirrors.

14. For bedrooms: consider all clothing dumped on floor dirty and toss in hamper. Throw out garbage. Put toys away. Make bed. Sweep floor.

15. Repeat step 14 for additional bedrooms.

16. Switch laundry to dryer. Start a new load. Fold second load of laundry. Put away.

17. Vacuum all area rugs and apolstery (couches, loveseats, chairs, benches, etc.). Vacuum any rooms that are carpeted.

18. Sweep any stairs you have.

19. If you have pets, toss their beds into the wash. Make sure they have food and water. Change litter or cage shavings (if applicable).

20. Make sure there is soap and toilet paper in the bathrooms. Dry and put away any dishes in the kitchen.

21. Do a walk-through of your whole house in case there is anything you missed.

22. Light a candle and sit back and enjoy your clean house which, if you have children, will last about 30 seconds.

Now this is just my one day emergency cleaning to-do list. Maybe some day I will post my day-to-day cleaning chores.

What about you? How do you clean?

God bless and happy cleaning!

- M

Week 4.5: I'm stumpy and I know it

Today begins the first day on my own with my stubby finger.

Yikes.

For those who do not know about my finger injury, you can read about it here:

http://ineedtopaintmytoenails.blogspot.com/2013/07/week-4-i-think-we-have-emegency.html

Let me start off by saying it hurts pretty bad, I can't let it get wet at all and my whole left hand is very sensitive and shaky because of it (thus pretty much useless). It must be all the messed up nerve endings.

So I desperately need to shower, but with two babies I don't get much time to myself, let alone enough to attempt washing my hair with one hand.

My kitchen counter is covered with dirty dishes (and I mean covered). I am terrified to cook anything for fear I will have to use a knife.

I am feeling very lost and discouraged.

I pray for the strength to make it through the next two weeks (until hubby is home again), the courage to face my newly developed fear of the kitchen, and patience to relearn how to do pretty much everything without touching my finger. Because when I touch it, it hurts pretty bad.

Also I just missed garbage day. Not the best start to my day.

I could use some virtual hugs today. Keep me in your prayers!

- M

My stubby wubby finger.

Week 4: I think we have an emergency…

So this past Friday I spent the evening in the emergency room at the hospital.

How did this happen? You might ask.

Lets start at the beginning…

We had some friends over for dinner. We were going to grill some burgers. I had just finished making kabobs of zucchini and mushrooms, and was about to slice some apples for a salad.

I know. Apples in a salad? Not my usual but I was attempting to be adventurous.

Anyways, so I was holding the apple and using a knife that was possibly too big to cut the apple and talking across the counter to my friend. She was kindly holding my four month old while I prepped in the kitchen.

I pushed the knife into the apple, and slice!

I felt a weird sensation at first, assuming I must have nicked my finger. But when I looked down, I noticed a big chunk of my nail missing. Not just nail, as it turned out. The finger beneath it as well.

I called for my husband, who was about to take the burgers out to start grilling. He assessed the situation and grabbed a paper towel just in time as blood started pouring out.

I will save you the gory details, but it was gross.

So I stood at the sink while my friend ran to get her husband, who was in the yard with my older daughter, almost two. I couldn't help but laugh, likely giving the impression that I had completely lost it.

While my husband collected the tip of my finger from the cutting board and put it on ice, my friend's husband came in and went out to start the car. (We do not own a vehicle, so thank God they were there!)

Within a few minutes I had my iPhone and my health card and was off to the hospital. At this point, I was super nauseous and dizzy.

I went in and they redirected me to triage. Now, this was my first time in emergency, but it was less unpleasant than I had thought it would be.

I waited until a nurse called me over to check my finger out. Now I had a face cloth wrapped around my finger, which I had to peel off, leading to more bleeding. And by now, it had really started to throb.

My hand after the whole ordeal.

She quickly examined it before wrapping it up and sending me back to the waiting room. At this time, my husband took a cab to the hospital and our friends watched the girls.

Now, the emergency room is not nearly as scary as I had imagined. Nonetheless, not my favourite place in the world.

Luckily in all the waiting, the profuse bleeding in my finger had finally stopped.

When they finally (hours later) called my name, they told my husband he couldn't come in with me. Boo.

So I reluctantly left him behind and went to sit on a weird cross between a bed and a chair surrounded by curtains, an occupied bed on the other side of both the curtains beside me.

And more waiting.

Finally a nurse came and asked all the questions they have to ask, which I had already been asked twice. People really need to start exchanging notes at the hospital.

Then a while later I was seen by a doctor.  She was very small, sweet and friendly. I was so thankful for that! The nurse I had was not overly friendly so the doctor definitely lifted my spirits.

So she tried to unwrap my finger. Nothing. The bandage was stuck to it (ouch!) and because it had sat for hours, the blood had dried it on pretty well. So I was given a little basin of saline solution to soak my finger in. And my finger started bleeding again.

In the end, after fifteen minutes of soaking, it didn't really help. So she apologized many times before peeling the bandage off. Even more pain. Even more bleeding. I am so lucky I don't get nauseous at the sight of blood.

Not that I needed to be any more nauseous.

So once the bandage was removed, I was moved to a bed to my left (it's occupant had left). I was given four freezing needles, and soon had no feeling in my finger. Which was awesome.

She examined it. She commented how bad it was (note to medical professionals: never admit how bad something looks). She wrapped it with some strange foam that she said would help my blood to clot.

It was rebandaged and I was told I could go home. Having had to pee pretty much the whole time I was in there, I finally went to the bathroom and washed my one hand (I was told to not touch my injured finger or get it wet).

I went back to the waiting room and was collecting my husband when a young lady in a wheelchair pointed out that I was bleeding. A lot.

Back in I went!

I was promptly returned to the bed and the doctor came over and inspected my finger. Again. I was notified that because the bleeding didn't stop, it would need to be cauterized.

Now for those of you who don't know, let me explain briefly was cauterizing is. They either use silver nitrate (looks like a long matchstick) or a little battery-powered electric device to burn closed an open capillary. The silver nitrate uses a chemical reaction to burn it closed, while the little device just heats up massively and electrically burns it closed.

As the doctor was not sure where the electric device was, she decided to go with the silver nitrate.

So there I was, laying on a hospital bed, my finger literally in her hands. But as the freezing had not yet worn off, I was not expecting pain.

Boy, was I wrong.

It was the worst pain I had ever been in. And I have had two babies, so that is saying something. (With drugs, so I'm sure having babies without drugs is much worse… all my respect to those who can do it).

She did this three times before I could barely hold it together and she decided to freeze my finger again. My whole body was shaking and my good hand was gripping the bed rails so hard my knuckles were stark white.

So another round of freezing and we were back at it. She tried to close the bleeding capillary one more time before deciding to get a second opinion on what to do.

"Melanie, this is Dr So-and-so."

Not really in the mood to meet somebody new, I grunted and he too examined my finger. He decided to try to cauterize it himself, explaining that my doctor had been too gentle.

Too gentle?!?!

So luckily she had just redone the freezing, because I would have been in tears while he burnt my finger.

After everything was done, my finger was wrapped and I was discharged. I was in increasing amounts of pain, it was after midnight and I was exhausted.

I popped some tylenol upon returning home and had a very restless night due to pain and trying not to let anything touch my injured finger.

My finger two days after the "incident"

All in all though, I would say I was so lucky it wasn't worse. So happy to have Someone watching out for me!

Stay safe!

xoxo

- M

Week 3: Who Leaves Their Baby in a Hot Car?

So I saw this video on youtube (link below) that was a reenactment about leaving your infant in the car on a hot day. Needless to say I was in tears by the end of the video.

Now for all of you who are as sensitive as I am to matters like this, you might not want to read on.

I read that as of four days ago (July 18th) 20 children have died in the US from being left in hot cars this year already! I can't seem to find the data for Canada, but at least three more in canada are dead.

That's TWENTY-THREE kids, people!

So if that many have died, how many more have been left in a hot car and not died?

That's not to mention how many pets are probably left for "just a minute" across North America every day.

So what bothers me is, what in the world could be so important that you feel the need to leave your baby in the car?

Now, even with air conditioning, a car in the peak of summer feels hot.

Apparently a car parked in the sun can quickly reach about 70° celsius. That's 158° Fahrenheit! That is hot!

As far as I am concerned, there are three possible reasons for leaving a child in the car. I am not saying they are valid reasons, but reasons nonetheless. And they are:

1. You only have a few things to pick up and you think it will be much faster to duck into the store without your baby.

2. Your baby is sleeping finally and you are afraid moving him inside will wake him.

3. You forgot your baby was in the car with you.

Now if reason number one, I can assure you every other parent has had to haul a stroller and car seat in and out of a car a hundred times if not more. (Unless of course they don't have a car, in which case this whole post does not apply, but even I do not have a car and have done this.) Taking an extra five minutes to get your baby out of the car won't kill you. If you are late for something, that's your own fault. Do not abandon your baby to make up for your bad time management.

If reason number two, I have been there. Your baby has been screaming all afternoon and after a drive has finally fallen asleep. You are exhausted. It would be so much easier to just let him sleep. But believe me, he will probably fall back asleep at some point. If you leave him, you might never hear him cry again. Or laugh. Or talk. If you must leave him in the car, sit in the car with him. Leave it running if you have to keep it cool. But you will be able to tell if its getting too hot for your little one.

If reason number three, while this seems at first like the most excusable reason, in my mind it is almost worse. You forgot you had your baby with you? You are the adult. You are responsible for another human life. If your mind is so preoccupied you forget whether or not your child is with you, you really should take stock of what thoughts are so much more important than your baby. Cherish the times you have with him so you don't ever forget.

Now please don't think I am attacking the parents whose babies have died. They have made their mistake, and are living with the consequences.

It literally makes me sick thinking of what those parents must have gone through, must still be going through.

Please, please don't repeat those parents' (or grandparents') mistakes.

Take care of your baby. Don't ever forget how much you love him (or her!). Don't let his life be ended early for your own convenience.

Babies are a gift from God.

Sorry to start the week on such a low note. But this really has to stop.

God bless!

- M

Link to youtube video: http://youtu.be/XNDWN8KDVSM

Week 2: Mirror, Mirror

 Ask any mother out there, and she will tell you one of the worst parts about after the baby is her body image.

Closely followed by sleepless nights and that smell of poopy diapers that never really seems to go away.

After my oldest was born, I was shocked by the state of my body. Sure people had warned me it would never be the same again. But whoa.

My hips were about ten feet wide, my belly looked like a deflated balloon, my entire body it seemed was painted with purple and pink zebra stripes, and my boobs that had once been an A cup were now easily double D's.

(For all the men reading, sorry about that last part.)

I wanted to show my baby off to the world, but how could I when I wanted to hide my body?

I was so ashamed. I felt very awkward, gross and unsexy.

When my baby was eight months old, I married her father and my (now) husband.

I know, scandal. But more on that another time.

So here I was, fitting my flabby, discoloured body into my wedding dress on what was supposed to be the day I felt most beautiful. But that is so far from how I felt.

After a morning of getting my hair, nails and makeup done, I looked in the mirror and at best felt that I was alright looking.

Now, I'm not going to say I was justified in feeling this way. I was emotional and probably hormonal. But I also can add that to my list of reasons you shouldn't have kids until after you're married.

So here I am, a year and one baby later. And what's changed?

Well, first, my attitude. Instead of throwing a pity party over the loss of my "good looks", I accept that my body has changed.

Second, how I define the word beautiful. While my stretch marks used to make my cringe, I now wear them proud. I think the saying is, "I'm a tiger who has earned her stripes."

Third, I started taking a proactive approach to my body. This means eating better, drinking more water, walking more and my daily workout… okay, every other day. But I'm usually lucky if I can drag my tired butt into bed at night.

I still struggle with body image issues. It's not as though all of sudden I was all "I'm beautiful blah blah blah". Everyday I have to get myself in the right mindset. And if I don't, then I usually end up in tears on the phone with my hubby (poor guy).

But then there's the other side of things: Once a woman starts to think her body is nice-looking, or even worse that she is beautiful, people judge her and call her "vain".

Umm… what? Didn't you just have an issue with me thinking I'm ugly?

Yes. But that's how people are I suppose.

And you know what? Maybe I am happy with my body. Maybe I do think I am beautiful. If that makes me vain, then so be it! I'll take vain over self-conscious any day.

I think we need to stop worrying so much about other people's bodies and worry more about how we treat our own.

Because in the end, who cares if Sally is two dress sizes smaller than you? Or if Leah has bigger boobs (again, sorry guys)? Or if Katie lost her baby weight faster than you?

Seriously. Who cares?

All you need to worry about is:

1) you are happy with your own body. If not, change it. It's as simple as that. You are in control of your body.

2) your husband is happy with your body. (If you aren't married, please move along.) 1 Corinthians 7:4 says, "The wife does not have authority over her own body but yields it to her husband." Now you are allowed to disagree with me on this point, but I believe it means we should try to please our husbands by taking care of our bodies and dressing nicely for them (among other things, obviously!).

3) you are honouring God with how you take care of your body. Don't eat junk and laze around, but also don't hurt your body by pushing it too far in exercise or other matters. For it says in 1 Corinthians 6:20 (second half of the verse), "Therefore honour God with your body."

So basically, be healthy and you will be taking care of all these things!

Now this is just a physical look at things. I am not saying we should all ignore our "inner beauty" and focus only on our outward looks. This is just speaking specifically about our physical bodies.

Sorry about being preachy today. Just had to share what was on my heart.

God bless!

xo

Week 1.5: My Hubby Lies Over the Prairies

Summer 2011: My husband (then boyfriend) gets a job in Alberta, a day of flying and driving away.

My initial reaction: Yay money!

My secondary reaction: Are you kidding me?

So thus began seemingly endless brief visits and emotional goodbyes.

Let me break down a typical work "shift" for you. He starts work on Tuesday morning, works until the following Wednesday when he works a half day. Five hour drive to Edmonton, five to seven hours of flying, then he will arrive home sometime between 6am and 8am on Thursday. We spend the weekend together, then Monday morning (early… ugh!) he gets his stuff together and flies back to Edmonton, where he takes another 5-hour bus back to work. The following morning (Tuesday) he goes back to work. Then the whole process starts over.

Then when we discovered how much money we could save if he only came home once every two shifts, we started seeing him every four weeks.

And how do I deal with this, you might ask?

I would love to have everyone believe I handle this very well. I am composed, organized, content and mature about it. Everything is all "peaches and gravy" (whatever that means).

Prepare yourselves for a shock.

I am the most unladylike specimen you will ever see. I cry, threaten, throw fits and have even sat in front of the door, using myself as a human barricade, in an attempt to prevent him from leaving me. Again.

It's a funny image. I'm sure even he thought so. Me, in my pyjamas, sitting on the floor, arms crossed, a scowl on my face that so many struggle to take seriously. My hair probably askew from another restless night, dreading his departure. Makeup smeared everywhere because I was probably too lazy to remove it the previous evening.

But I did not find it funny. I found it heart-breaking. How could he want to be away from us? Did he not care?

At the time, I felt rejected and lonely.

Since then, I have tried to understand it from his point of view:

He only gets to be home four days a month, and the rest of the time he is so far away from everything he has ever known. He gave up his dreams to ensure his family is well provided for. He risked missing the birth of his two daughters (thank God he was able to be here though!) so that they would never go wanting. He had to make new friends and is lucky of he sees his old friends every six months.

Sometimes I still forget he also sleeps alone every night.

The hubby and I, October 2011

When he started working there, before we were married, I would go to the airport to say goodbye and also to pick him up. We both lived at home (me with my parents, he with his mom).

Once our daughter was born, I still went a couple times to say goodbye. I stopped going to pick him up.

Within months, I just stayed home.

From my point of view, I was protecting myself. It hurt too much to say goodbye that way.

From his point of view, I no longer cared.

It took me a long time to understand this. It is not easy looking at the world from someone else's point of view. But sometimes it is necessary.

Now, instead of complaining, I try to be understanding. After all, I am here surrounding by friends and family when he leaves. He goes to some remote freezing corner of the country where most of the guys (to me at least) seem massively sketchy.

(Another post on that later!)

Point of the story: Sometimes we have to go through the hard stuff to get to the good stuff later. And always, always enjoy the times that you do have together, or you will miss out on making memories resenting the fact that you don't have more time together.

God bless.

xoxo

Week 1: To Blog or Not To Blog?

Blogging.

Oh, the overwhelming feeling of looking at a blank page! Makes my stomach twist in funny knots. I find coffee helps. Coffee and chocolate. Or chocolate flavoured coffee.

I have been told many times that I am a very private person. I don't intend to be; actually I try to be open with people. But there is this thin line between sharing a good amount and shoving your life story in the face of every person you meet.

I do not want to be a shover.

So this is my goal: a post (or so) a week for the next year. I have no idea what I will write about. Just make it up as I go along, I suppose. Write when inspiration strikes me.

For those of you who don't know me, I am 22, married, and the mother of two beautiful little girls. I am a Christian and am not ashamed of it. I like to think I am funny and I am definitely a little quirky (who isn't though?). I have interests that are as widespread as the topics of this blog will likely end up being.

And for those of you who do know me (you poor souls), think of this as a way to get to know me better. An honest peek inside the mind of Melanie (a terrifying thought!). You've been warned.

I hope to be able to entertain you, surprise you, enlighten you and (occasionally) make you laugh out loud at my ridiculousness.

So lets call this post #1: an intro to what may be the best thing I ever do. Or the worst. Time will tell.

Have a great week and God bless!

xo

- M

Feel free to ignore the stain on my dress. I'm a classy lady, what can I say?