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?