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Bathroom Makeover! Kind of.

This post is sponsored by Cottonelle, where they respect the roll.

Happy second anniversary of home ownership to us!

Two years ago we quickly snapped up a power-of-sale, fixer up on a major street in a neighbourhood we love. We quickly put in a kitchen, pulled up two layers of vinyl tiles on the second floor and refinished the original hardwood underneath, replaced both the furnace and the water heater, built a fence, opened up a doorway, installed central air, painted and weeded. Then we ran out of steam. Steam and money.

There is still so much to do. Let’s just focus on the bathrooms for now. We have three bathrooms. Nice, right? That’s two more than many three-bedroom semis in this city come with. I can see the envy in people’s eyes when I casually drop the number of bathrooms we have. “I might have to look into a cleaning lady,” I’ll say. “It’s just too hard trying to clean SO many bathrooms.” “Toilet training is a breeze when you have a bathroom on every floor!” They’re probably picturing a nice ensuite off the master bedroom, a standard four-piece for the kids and a little powder room downstairs. That’s not the case.

Our main bathroom is on the second floor, near the bedrooms. It is one of the smallest bathrooms ever made, for one.  It was also beyond scuzzy when we first bought the house. But we had time and budget constraints and having a house with a kitchen was priority number one. So we decided to just cover the old tiles with panels that could be glued to the walls, use peel and stick tiles on the floor, slap on a fresh coat of paint and give the rest a good scrubbing. We finished it up with a new shower head, shower curtain and assorted fixtures. It looked pretty good — until the wall panels started peeling off. Now they just sort of sag inward toward the tub. The kids can bathe up there, but we can’t get the walls wet until we find the time and money to redo them.

That brings me to the basement — quite literally, in fact — because that’s where I have to go to shower. As long as you remember to duck en route to the tub, you can usually avoid smashing your head on the heating duct. Also, if you first wet one side of the shower curtain, you can get it to stick to the wall and minimize the pool of water that will drip onto the floor from the leaky shower head. We’re working on the ant infestation down there and I, for one, think the four different tile patterns are charming. Irene loves the pink toilet too.

I used to shower on the main floor because that bathroom is by far the most functional of the three. It’s not stylish by any stretch of the imagination, but the tiles match and the room is basically in good repair. It’s in an addition on the back of the house, just past the kitchen and next to the laundry machines. So what if you have to step over a pile of kiddie shoes, bags and jackets? At least the clothes you didn’t take out of the dryer are right there! It wasn’t bad at all … until the fall. It turns out that addition is the crappiest structure ever built. It’s basically drywall thrown up on top of an old porch with little to no insulation. It’s FREEZING back there in the winter. On really cold days I have to bring the kids’ coats into the kitchen to warm up before going out. I have to wear a scarf to do laundry.

But it’s spring! The bathroom was looking a little dumpy after the off season, so what better time for a BATHROOM MAKEOVER! You know how crafty I am.  Remember that time I bought a sewing machine and still have only sewed one thing once? I can’t really do any worse than that, right?

Here’s what I was dealing with:

BathroomMakeover1.jpg

It gets worse:

BathroomMakeover2

Wait, there’s more:

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My work was cut out for me.

I cleared out the junk, hung up a “Live Well, Laugh Often, Love Much,” plaque that was lying around and gave it a half-assed cleaning. VOILA!

BathroomRedoAFTER

That’s right, my friends, no more unsightly toilet paper hanging around. All right, it’s less that toilet paper is unsightly and more that this extra toilet paper roll cover by Cottonelle is actually really cute. More than anything, my bathroom needed a splash of colour and this was so easy. Oh, and of course I used a filter on my “after” shot. We all know my makeover skills need all the help they can get.

And the best part?

threerolls

There’s one for all three of my bathrooms. Try not to be too jealous.

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Babyproof My Brain

I recently wrote a post at The Bad Moms Club about how I’m flirting with the idea of not babyproofing this third time around. I just can’t trust my older kids to keep the chokables away and the baby gates closed, I don’t think.

Then again, I don’t remember making a big babyproofing effort with my other two kids either. How exactly did they get from infancy to childhood in one piece anyway? How did we survive moving into a house mid-reno with a four year old and a 18 month old?!

Toronto-20120405-00303.jpg
Really now.

The answer came to me this morning while I was making coffee. That’s right, before I even had a coffee. I pulled the coffee maker forward to fill it with water and add the coffee grinds. Then I pushed it right back into it’s spot at the back corner of the counter. Obviously. Except then I remember the countless times Ed or some other well-meaning, coffee-making person has just left it there, brewing hot coffee at the front of the counter.

I then remembered my sister-in-law putting on the kettle using the front burner of the stove. My babysitter couldn’t find the knives because she didn’t think to look up high, on the wall-mounted shelf above the stove and next to the microwave. Anytime we had company at our old, second floor apartment, I was constantly shutting the door at the top of the stairs. I’ll step into the backyard and immediately spot the lighter that was left on the steps or the saw on the back porch. The list goes on.

Ordinary people without small children walk around oblivious of all the potential dangers inherent in everyday objects. Seriously, people, stop giving one year olds balloons to play with! I’m this close to a heart attack over that one. They will put them in their mouth. And do you not see the baby beelining it to that plastic shopping bag? What is your problem?!

And then it dawned on me. I don’t have to babyproof my house because I’ve already babyproofed MY BRAIN. I can automatically scan our surroundings and pick out all and any hazards and take the appropriate measures. It’s my secret mutant power. Sadly, it only seems to work for my own kids. I’ll always have the knowledge, of course, but my instant, danger radar is somehow linked to my own children and disappears as soon as they’re on to the next stage.

Is this a common thing? A sort of mother’s instinct? Or am I really a super hero? Colum will be so psyched if I’m a hero!