Alberta Flood of 2013

Ready for the floodwaters

I've tried to sit down and write this post a dozen times this week, but I feel sort of jumbled, like someone stuck me in a giant, Medicine-Hat-shaped jar and shook me around for a little while. I realized yesterday, when I first went to look at my house post-flood, that I've been living in a Schrodinger's cat scenario: my house was destroyed, and my house was untouched. And now that I have a better idea of the extent of the damage (and yes, there's damage), I'm not sure whether knowing or not knowing was better. When I didn't know, I could still picture the house high and dry--all it needed was a good spring cleaning and we could move our stuff back in. Of course I realized that scenario was unlikely, but it was still possible yesterday morning. The cat was alive.

The first view of our basement.

Our basement has a thick layer of muck. Because it's raw sewage and not just floodwater, we will be hiring someone else to do the initial clean-up. This is both good and bad. Good because we don't have to deal with this crap ourselves (haha), but bad because all professional services will probably be really backed up (I swear I'm not making these puns on purpose). According to the inspector, the water reached 14 inches, which means that the electrical downstairs will need to be redone. The furnace is okay. The hot water heater is shot. I'm not sure about the washer and dryer. Floors will need to be replaced, carpet ripped up, drywall redone. All the food in the fridge and freezer is bad by now. Depending on the fumes/what exactly that layer of mud consists of, all of the food in the house may need to be tossed (except for what's in cans). Anything absorbent or that can't be washed with water might need to be thrown away (all my books and the majority of Q's books, though I took her favorites with us). But we just don't know. Our neighbor right next door found his house completely untouched. His gas and electricity were turned back on and he was given the okay to move in immediately. There's one thing for sure, though: Schrodinger's cat is neither dead nor alive anymore--I'd say it's just barely limping along, bedraggled and mud-caked.

The Evacuees:

But along with the pieces of my mind that are bouncing complaints around my skull all day are the ones that keep gently reminding me of the people who have it so much worse. Four houses down from us has developed a sinkhole that broke right through the side foundation of their house and will, I'm sure, take massive repairs and money. The people of High River are STILL waiting to go back home--and their homes are, in all likelihood, pretty much destroyed. The entire city was inundated with water. And we always have a place to go. We have the entire basement of our in-laws' to ourselves--Q even has her own room, here. The cats have taken over the garage and get let outside to nibble on grass and explore the backyard for about an hour every day. The government will be handing out pre-loaded debit cards soon to those evacuees who cannot return home (we should qualify). And because our issue is with sewage backup and no water actually came into the house from outside, it should all be covered by insurance. We hope. I know there's a lot to be thankful for. The complaining and thankfulness have been waging a tiring war against each other every day for the past half week. The recent floods in India have taken hundreds of lives. I would rather lose my house a thousand times over than to see any harm come to my family.

The sinkhole 4 doors down

So we'd appreciate prayer, and if you're not the praying type, please send us your "casserole thoughts," as my friend calls them (I'm not sure what casserole thoughts are, but they sound delicious and sympathetic). It's easy to become lazy and despondent in such situations, so I'm trying to establish a new routine and a chore list that I can stick to. Life goes on--just in a slightly different location.

A little mildly inappropriate humor

Not entirely relevant, but I keep thinking about this picture...

Self-Image

I was just thinking to myself this morning (which I sometimes do), and realized that one of the most effective ways to give Q a good self-image about her body is to not be verbally abusive of my own. I was looking up some statistics on body image and young girls, and here are some sobering facts I found:

• 46% of 9-11-year-olds are “sometimes” or “very often” on diets.
• 35-57% of adolescent girls engage in crash dieting, fasting, self-induced vomiting, diet pills, or laxatives.
• The average American woman is 5’4” tall and weighs 165 pounds. The average Miss America winner is 5’7” and weighs 121 pounds.

I found many interesting statistics here: http://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/get-facts-eating-disorders. You also don't browse the internet for long before you come across "pro-anorexia" sites featuring young, impressionable teens and preteens idolizing stick-thin celebrities, posting pictures of models with their ribs poking through, and taking awkward downward photos of their protruding hipbones all the while complaining, "I'm soooo fat!"

So I'm wondering how to combat this, and I think I have a good idea of where to start, particularly with something I already mentioned:

1. Don't bash your own body. It's almost a rite of passage for women to complain about their bodies--you might be seen as weird or even *gasp* vain if you don't. But kids are impressionable and pick up on these things. They think, "I didn't notice there was anything wrong with the way mom looks... But she thinks there is, so what if there's something wrong with the way I look?"

2. Cut down on the dieting. Did you know that 95% of people gain back all their lost weight within 1-5 years? Dieting isn't the key, and our children--particularly girls--know when we're measuring portions, counting calories, etc. Instead, emphasize healthy lifestyle changes (I really need to work on this one--burgers and cookies are my weakness). Bust out the Canada food guide and go through it with your kids to show them what exactly healthy eating means. And let them know that sweets are okay sometimes--don't always say, "Oh, I really shouldn't be eating this!" Just enjoy an ice cream cone with your daughter, guilt-free!

3. Limit their exposure to mainstream media. Magazines, TV, movies... They pretty much only showcase ONE body type. Let your children see real people in the real world; teach them to choose heroes based on character, intelligence, strong personality, and individuality, not pants size. Do you want your daughter emulating Carmen Diaz or Madame Curie? (Well, let's hope no one emulates Madame Curie TOO much, because she died from radioactive poisoning.)

I'm interested in hearing more possible suggestions to raising a young girl to have a healthy self-image. But I truly believe that maintaining a positive self-image about ourselves will go a long way in promoting positive self-images in our daughters in the future.

Half-Birthday

I am sitting downstairs with my feet propped up on the inflatable mattress that is taking up the entirety of the downstairs room. I can hear the floorboards creaking upstairs as Steven walks around, and the sheet of bubble wrap in my hands is completely popped.

In this state of relaxation, I intend to write about Q turning 6 months old. It happened a couple weeks ago, but the victory is still fresh. 6 months is a milestone in many regards. Firstly, that was my minimum goal for breastfeeding. I remember sitting in my chair behind the screen in the NICU desperately trying to latch my baby. I remember how sore I always was, and how I took my pain medication not for my c-section scar but for breastfeeding. I remember obsessing over my milk supply when my thyroid went low and Q stopped gaining weight. And I counted the months until the 6 month mark. And now I'm here, and all that is past. Next goal is a year.

As recommended, we slept with her in our room until 6 months. We also waited to feed her solid food until her 6 month birthday. And she is still practically bald. As a 6-month-old baby, I required my first haircut and was 22 pounds and 13 ounces. Q's peach fuzz is just beginning to make itself noticeable and she is 16 pounds 7 ounces, so there are definitely some discrepancies. Her hair has the same subtle reddish tint when it catches the light, though—and she has the same chubby arm rolls that I did.

I sort of thought that motherhood would bring some clarity to my life—and in a way, I suppose it has. But I'm a little surprised to discover that I still keep changing and that I still have things that need to be improved. I still feel young and inexperienced and unsure of what my interests are. But I think I feel a little more confident about tackling them. Maybe I was always a couple of steps behind everyone else. I hope Q inherits my good qualities and improves upon my lacking ones. I guess that's what every parent wants for their child.

So happy half-birthday, Q. And congratulations to me for keeping you intact thus far!