Choosing Your Battles

Now, in many relationship advice books or forums, people will tell you to choose your battles. Of course, this comes in incredibly handy in relationships because, quite frankly, nobody is going to be the same as you. Especially when you live together, you are then trying to fit two lives into one and there will be many conflicting issues when two opinions are trying to melt into one.

However, my story doesn’t focus on a relationship per se. But it is about learning to deal with the small stuff, and only making a big deal over big things so that people have no way to argue back with you.

When my husband and I got our first apartment, it was in a “fixed” state. And what I mean by that is simply that the people before us were very rough on the place, having big parties and crazy enough to throw a couch off the deck into someone’s car below. Needless to say, they were kicked out, and all the stickers on the fan blades, the dirt and garbage throughout the place, and patch work here and there needed to be done. It wasn’t perfect when we got it, but it was our first place and that was all that mattered.

As time would go on, the lack of a screen door on our deck (the previous tenants had smashed that), had started wilting the corner of the door inwards. We mentioned it several times for almost a year, but it apparently wasn’t a big issue. We also had a screen missing in our bedroom window which was mentioned, but that never got fixed either. My husband wanted to stop paying our rent and be a little more forceful when it came to getting these simple repairs done, but I took the much gentler approach and said that we’ll just wait a little longer.

Now, as you can imagine, when those -40 winter days come, having an exposed corner of your door to the outside was a huge issue. When I could sit on my couch and see the snow outside on my deck through the one corner, that was an issue. Unfortunately nobody did anything about it. We kept being promised that something would happen, but it didn’t. And after a year and a half of being there, I decided that it was finally time to make a little noise. So I found the e-mail for the CEO of the rental company, thanked him for making cheaper places available and for having pet allowance (that a lot of places don’t), I simply explained to him our situation and reminded him how awful it was going to be on another -40 night. My door was fixed within 2 days. Now, I also had my fridge quit, and that was replaced right away. Had I complained and been more forceful about everything, I don’t think this would have been the case.

In my e-mail to the CEO, I also mentioned I was planning to move to another one of the company’s rental properties simply for being closer to work, and without asking, in apologizing for what we had been through, he waived our transition fee and got me an apartment rather quickly. I also had an ex-landlord of our current property (she was promoted higher in the company) call and offer any assistance in the transition I needed. Now think about that for a moment. I chose my battle. I didn’t battle every little thing. When you have lots of little incidences built up, people can see where you’re coming from over the bigger things and are usually more than willing to help you out.

Fast forward to our new place. In the year we’ve been here, we moved in with 2 broken sets of blinds (still never been replaced), a missing screen in our office window, the basement leaked every time it rained, our basement completely flooded twice, and just recently our tub quit draining. Now of course, my husband wants to take the same forceful approach because in reality, it is ridiculous. However, they did fairly quickly respond to the flooding, it took them about a year to fix the cracks in the basement, but they still did it, and it’s now taken them 5 days to fix our tub, plus I will have to call them back tomorrow because the piping from the tub is still dripping over our kitchen counter. But I haven’t made a big deal about any of it, and I choose not to because the more compliant you are over the small things, the more compliant they will usually be when it comes to something big.

So people, choose your battles. Don’t make a huge deal about everything or people will treat you as that “complainer”. But be patient with the small things, and you watch how much people will do what they can for you when it comes to a big thing.

How Much Are We Affecting Our Children?

I saw a commercial tonight that struck me so differently than any other commercials before. All the time we see the World Vision commercials and other organization’s commercials that are reaching out with the dire situations of children all over the world. I support organizations that help others, don’t get me wrong. My father sponsored a child when we were younger who would write us letters with the aid of a translator. She would also send pictures of our money helping to clothe her and send her to school. Helping others is great and we should never become immune to the fact that others need our help. But it also can’t be denied that these commercials are common-day, and we are used to turning past them all the time.

The commercial I saw tonight hit home.

It was a commercial based on North America, on OUR children, on the damage WE do to them. And I just sunk in my chair (couch). It was a commercial that showed the pictures of women on magazines, in commercials, articles of the fastest ways to lose weight, and even a scene where one little girl asked another if she was ready for bikini season.

Wow.

You hear stories all the time of how these things affect women, but to think that they even affect little girls! But when you sit and think of it, how true it is! Many girls are worried about being popular in school, are bullied, are made fun of, etc… and the same thing goes for boys. They grow up seeing these images of what makes a “perfect woman/man” or a “perfect girl/boy” and at earlier and earlier ages, they are striving to look like this.

I have known it’s been an epidemic that girls are maturing earlier and earlier, I see this in school with the passing years and generations. I guess it never occurred to me the depth of diet and appearance on girls even as early as 8 or 9 years old! Possibly even younger! Is that what we want to do to our children?

I think it’s a way of teaching our children to grow up with insecurities. We are setting them up to attain images that are almost always photoshopped while always feeling not good enough.

We need to change this.

We need to raise our children knowing that they are good enough. Now that doesn’t mean feeding them a greasy pizza everyday. Make healthy eating fun. Incorporate as many fruits and veggies as you can daily so kids are not afraid to eat them and don’t grow up thinking they are boring and gross. Make being healthy and active a fun part of everyday life. And most importantly, give them so much love that they will know people’s opinions don’t matter. They are special and important and perfect just the way they are!

When I Realized My Grandfather Really Wasn’t Coming Back

Something happened today that really jarred my memory and brought me to write this post. I saw the following picture on Facebook and it got me thinking about my grandfather.

It took me right back to the moments where I can remember thinking about him and instantly started crying. Even now writing this, I can feel the water filling up in my eyes. I know many of you will say that you have/had an awesome grandfather to, but I’d like to take a minute to tell you about mine, and how special he truly was.

I guess it starts when my mother became pregnant with me. My parents were not married. I guess my grandfather liked my dad, but he was very upset about the whole situation and didn’t talk to my mother for days. However, being the man that he was, he still bought her a crib and everything she would need for me, even though he wasn’t talking to her. He was always that way, taking care of things even when he was upset.

Of course, as soon as I was born, he was completely smitten. My mother is a child of two, but lived very much a single child’s life. She never met her brother as he died on a surgery table a few months after he was born. That meant, I was the first and only grandchild.

My parents didn’t stay together very long. They did get married after I was born, but separated when I was about 4, officially divorcing when I was around 5. Where do you think we went back to? My grandparents. In fact, their home was very much “home base” my entire life.

My grandfather always spoiled me (and later my other siblings). I have pictures where my toys barely fit in the picture with me. My father told me that I would get tired of opening gifts because there were simply so many. I had this 6″+ man wrapped around my tiny finger. There’s no denying he loved me.

My grandfather was a used car salesman. In fact, it was my mother’s company that he worked for her since she dropped out of college to be home with me. The company was even named after my sister and I. But eventually he took over the company and changed its name since he did become the only one running the business.

I used to love visiting him at his office. My grandmother and I would get lunches for him, he would let me sit in his office chair, I would be called his “Number 1 Dudette”, and I loved the fact that everywhere we went, people always knew and respected my grandfather, and thus treated me as if I was a special person. I had never met anyone who didn’t know or like my grandfather.

If you could imagine the biggest realistic playground in the world, that would be my grandfather’s car lot. He gave me access to all the keys and vehicles in his lot. I can still remember the amount of fun we had pretending to drive the cars, and especially in exploring the only RV I remember him having. Only once did he ask me to backup a truck into a corner spot. My mother sat in the passenger seat with me, and I remember learning really quick to use my mirrors. I was so scared I would mess up his vehicles in this tight spot. But I did it! I still can’t believe he trusted me…

If I could compare him to anything, it would very much be the godfather. I’m not joking when I say that everyone seemed to know who he was. He was an amazing man when he was happy, but he was always a man you feared when he was unhappy. I don’t remember him every getting mad at me, but it was a general rule that when he came home, the remote control to the television had to be in the right spot for him to lay on the couch and watch what he wanted. He became upset if the remote went missing. There were just certain things you knew not to do.

Sometimes, my grandmother and him would fight. I’m sure there’s not a couple in the world who has not at least had one argument. Sometimes, or maybe more than sometimes, this meant he would stay at his office for the night. It was a conveniently built, small building that contained 3 rooms and a tiny hallway. One room was “the office”. The second room was of course a washroom. And the third room was his bedroom. It contained only a tv, a bed, and a mini fridge. It pretty much had everything he needed if he needed a night away. So it was a fairly normal occurrence for him not to come home sometimes.

The best thing about my grandfather was that he was always there for us. There was a time when we didn’t have the most money, and work was slow. My grandfather always provided what we needed, and then some. Most of you know that I have moved like 20 times with my family, not including on my own. The one person who was always there, regardless of where we were, was my grandfather. He never missed an opportunity to come and stay with us. (Of course I should say my grandmother always came with him as well, but I will dedicate a post to her another day.) He was honestly one of the biggest constants in my life.

When my family made the official decision to move from the east coast to the west coast, my grandparents offered to bring my sister and I out at the end of summer so that we could spend the extra time with our father. It was a fair bit of a long drive, but even then my grandfather trusted me with reading the map (before GPS systems). I almost think his belief in me helped me grow to the independent woman I am today. I have a lot to credit him for.

They stayed with us at our new place for a few days. Early in the morning, him and I would get up and drive to a hotel or another homey restaurant to eat. He was not a chain-restaurant type of person. Even back in the town he worked, he had one particular restaurant he preferred to eat at, and everybody knew his specials and what he enjoyed eating. He always preferred the homestyle cooking. In fact, he met my grandmother while she was waitressing at such a type of restaurant. My family and I have visited that restaurant a few times and imagined what it must have been like. They still have the juke boxes and the old stools. Sometimes it’s nice to preserve history rather than to embrace change.

We then took a trip to the “big city” so my grandparents could see it before they left. We had a lot of fun. At one point, we lost my grandfather in the big mall. I’ll never forget him driving around on those motorized scooters for people who can’t walk well. He had even gotten an orange smoothie and I guess spilled it all over the machine. If you knew my grandfather like I did, you would picture him using colourful language for the time he was mad, then acting like nothing ever happened.

I don’t remember how we ever found him, but I can tell you it was one of the hardest good-byes of my life.This wasn’t just moving a few hours away, this was a four day drive across the country. Of course they would come visit again, but the visits would never be as frequent as before. What I didn’t know was that my tears would get worse before they ever got better.

Literally two or three days after we returned to our new home, I got a call from my grandmother. It sounded like her for sure, but something was a little different. She asked to speak to my mom pretty much right away, so I gave my mom the phone and sat on the landing of the stairs. My mother took the phone into her room which was at the top of the stairs. The next words I heard told me pretty much everything I didn’t want to hear. She said, as she began crying, “Oh Mom!”.

My grandparents had been involved in a car accident on their journey home. An impatient driver went in their lane to pass a semi-truck and didn’t see my grandparents van coming at them. My grandmother was in the hospital, a little bruised but otherwise ok (she would later need nose surgery to correct the alignment). My grandparents’ friend who was helping them drive home had so many broken bones, including ribs and shoulder, and would also need counselling for what happened (he was driving at the time – completely not his fault). But my grandfather didn’t make it.The speed they were traveling on the highway, and the impact of a completely head-on hit left the vehicle in shambles and took my grandfather with it.

Immediately, we packed and drove back to the city. I thankfully had a great aunt and uncle who lived just outside the limits and welcomingly invited us in until we could all make arrangements to fly home. My mother was able to fly right away to be with my grandmother, but there were 4 more of us to fly, and we had to wait for a cheaper ticket to afford it.

It was so strange when I got home. Being in my grandparents house seemed so normal. I mean, I was only at my “new home” for less than a week. I had no attachments to it and didn’t even have to act like it was supposed to be my new home. I had come home and it felt like life should be normal again.

I know I cried a few times, but I remember just having the attitude and thoughts of “My grandfather is just at his office, staying the night like he usually does. Sometime he’ll come home.”

I still remember it as clear as yesterday: My mother and I were sitting in the living room, on separate couches, not talking much as we didn’t for a while, and her saying the exact same thing that I felt – that Grampy was just at his office and sometime he would come home. And it hit us right then that we had to realize it was wasn’t true, that Grampy really wasn’t coming back. I broke down (just like I am again now) because he was always there, for everything! How could he not come back this time! How could the one stable thing in my life not come back! It was so hard to accept.

Sitting in his house, seeing all of his old stuff, going to his office, it was all so hard to do when you realize the person who has always been there for you, the person who has loved you your whole life was suddenly gone. My nickname would never be used again, except when telling stories of him. My promise from him of giving me my first car would never come true. My life was drastically left with an empty hole that I’m not sure was ever filled again. Nobody could take his place, and I could never have been prepared for that instant change in time.

Life is not fair, and it never will be. The devil is waiting for any opportunity to attack and make a mess of things. He knows which strings to pull and he knows how to make things hurt you more than anyone else. He knows he can damage us and take away everything that means the world to us, which is why it’s so important to turn to God when you’re hurting, to let Him hold you and tell you that everything is going to be ok, because one day, it will. One day, when Jesus returns and we are taken to Heaven with Him, there will not be anymore pain, there will not be anymore death, there will not be anymore tears. I don’t know what my grandfather’s relationship with Christ was like. I know he sort of had a falling out at one point, but he insisted my mom make sure she took us to church. So I only hope and pray that he had a good relationship with God, because it would be so nice to run into those loving arms I miss so dearly, the loving arms that were missing during both of my graduations and my wedding, the loving arms that were taken away from me way too soon.

I miss this man more than anything, and truly just thinking of how much I miss him brings me to tears almost instantly. Hold your loved ones close and make sure you let them know how important they are to you. You never know which instant will take them away.

My Rib is Injured… Again!

Several summers ago, I got sick. The worst part of getting sick for me is always this nasty cough that I get. This particular summer, the cough was so bad that I heard a “snap” following a hard cough. I didn’t notice anything at first though I had a huge feeling that something was terribly wrong. It wasn’t until later that I figured it out.

I jumped in my father’s truck that he had let me borrow while working away. And as soon as I had jumped up into the seat, I felt it. It was a tight feeling at first, but then quickly developed into a bad pain. I could barely turn the steering wheel. In the short 5 minute drive to the trailer I was renting, I knew I had to call my mother to come drive me to the hospital. I had to wait a fair time for her as I was about 45 minutes away, but she quickly came and took me to the hospital.

The hospital was about another 30 minutes from where I was, and the wait at the hospital was about 2 hours. The problem was, by the time I was registered and sitting in the waiting room, I was having a hard time breathing. All I can remember is intense pain and focussing on low and shallow breaths.

We waited for awhile until my mother decided to check where we were on the list, only to find out that we had been bumped down rather than up and the wait from that point was longer than 2 hours. It hurts to breathe but I’m not a serious case? My mother was mad to say the least.

We hopped in the car, and headed to the next hospital an hour away. It was a shorter time than I would have had to wait at the first hospital, and this hospital took me in right away. The only problem was, I had popped a rib muscle, which the doctor promptly told me hurts as much as breaking a rib (crazy pain), and there was nothing they could do except give me Tylenol 3.

Now some people I knew would have gone crazy over Tylenol 3. My mother had a mini freak-out session about how I might become addicted to it, but after telling her everything would be fine, I got my prescription and was on my way.

It was a painful summer. The T3s didn’t touch the pain hardly at all. I always walked around with one hand putting pressure on that rib area. It was awful. Nothing but time was able to heal that wound.

Once again, I was sick a few weeks ago and the cough has mostly gone but not completely. I know my body has suffered a little more than normal (didn’t help when my chiropractor asked what happened except I had been doing nothing but sleeping and sitting on the couch, trying to get better), but my body still seemed in decent shape. I worked out this week and everything seemed good.

Last night was a chest workout, and even though I warmed up and stretched, in the very first exercise (bench press), my rib started to hurt. I can’t remember if it is the same side or not, but I’m pretty sure I popped a stupid rib muscle again. It hurts so bad and I have to put pressure on the area to even try to take a deep breath. My abs are also starting to hurt because of the way I have to modify my body when I need to cough. It’s miserable.

I had just gotten well enough to start back in the gym and this is what happens! Ah!

To be honest, I wasn’t going to complete my workout last night because of the pain. But as I sat in the locker room, looking at my open locker as I was going to change, I got mad, closed and locked my locker, and went out and did the incline dumbbell press. I’m pretty sure it was a very dumb idea. I’m pretty sure I made it worse. I had written down to do 4 sets of 12, but after 3 sets, I knew I was being ridiculous. I shouldn’t be mad, although it was hard to not at least be disappointed.

So here I am with heat packs and taking it easy. I would much rather be in the gym but I’ve done my damage and I should know better. Injuries are something to take serious and it’s very important to know when to quit. So learn from my mistake and save yourself some pain. I’m all about lifting heavy and “sucking-it-up” in most situations, but I felt the pain and knew I should have quit. Next time, I will.

Week 11 Day 1: Double Time!

The good news? My husband woke up feeling much better! The bad news? I didn’t sleep well. I tried sleeping on the couch downstairs so that I wasn’t face-to-face with whatever my husband had. But between this one housefly that would not leave my ear alone, and the dogs whining, I ended up dragging myself upstairs around 3 a.m. and getting “ok” sleep from then on. Sometimes it would be so much easier if dogs could just talk in a language we could understand. Ugh.

So today, I spent quite a bit of time doing laundry and house cleaning again. However, since I had missed the gym so much already, it was my goal to get to the gym twice today. Somehow, I succeeded.

My husband was in no shape to go to the gym today, especially since he was still recovering from yesterday. So he simply dropped me off at the gym after we ate some Booster Juice together. There is a Booster Juice in my gym, so it was all done in one stop.

My first workout was a legs workout. And oh man, did I raise the weight on almost everything. I pushed hard! And I was loving it. I remember a time when I used to DREAD leg workouts with every ounce of my being, and more and more, I’m noticing how much I actually enjoy them! It’s funny how things change!

After my leg workout, my husband came and picked me up. We went to a Japanese restaurant that was recommended by his journeyman. I was so excited, did not order sushi but instead had a bento box with vegetable tempura, rice, steamed sprouts and teriyaki chicken. I couldn’t finish it. It was so SALTY! I’m not sure if this is typical of Japanese food or not, but seriously, I left with a salty headache, craving sugar or anything that would cut that salty feeling.

After we ate, I had my husband dropped me off at the gym again. I felt fairly good after we ate, so I figured I might as well go and get it done.

The second workout was much harder. It was a chest workout and I could tell my energy was draining much faster. I also did a second round of 25 minutes of steady state cardio afterwards (first time was after my leg workout) and by the end, I knew I needed food, fast. My husband unfortunately forgot to bring the food I asked him to bring when he picked me up, so we made a pitstop on the way home and I loaded up on a huge chicken wrap (protein and minimal fat), a doughnut ( quick carb-loading!), and a nice iced coffee to add back some energy. This actually backfired on me because I think the caffeine kept me awake. I went from barely being able to stay awake to not being able to fall asleep. Oops.

It was a good day, and although two workouts was a lot for one day, I feel accomplished and my mind is happy. That’s a good way to end the day.