Not as crazy as I thought...

*Another brief hiatus from my Tales from the South.

I have weird dreams. I have forever. Usually, when I wake up in the middle of the night, I'm a little disoriented from my weird dreams, and it takes me a little while to differentiate between dream and reality. This is important to keep in mind while I tell my story.

Early this morning, I woke up around 2:30, needing to use the facilities. I stepped into the hallway to trek to the bathroom and smelled smoke. I first thought, "Erin. That is not smoke. That is your middle-of-the-night paranoia. Be cool." But, just to be safe, I scurried to the living room to make sure that the candles I had burned throughout the day had safely been extinguished. They had.

I took care of the business that had originally awakened me.

After returning to bed, I laid there for a while. Thinking about smoke and fires. Just in case, I stepped back into the hallway to see if I still smelled smoke. I did. Panic set in...we had hung some Christmas lights in Claire's room to serve as a nightlight. Did they catch fire?? Is Claire still breathing?? I ran to her room to investigate. No fire. Breathing baby. Whew.

Back to bed. Tossing and turning. Thinking about electrical fires burning in the walls...that happens, doesn't it?? No way to check that out...so I ran back to the living room to verify FOR SURE that the candles were out. They were. Something must be wrong with my olfactory senses.

Once back in bed, I decided I should just pray about it. And wake Brad up to see if he smelled smoke. (Note: Brad is very difficult to awaken. Oi.) He told me a) he personally blew out the candles, and b) he did not smell smoke. Ok. Maybe I was overreacting. 

But I prayed some more, just in case. I'm nothing if not cautious.

Well, this morning, when I walked into the living room, I saw Brad looking out of the open doorway, and the trash piles (today was trash day, so all the building's dumpsters were right outside our door) scattered everywhere. I walked closer to see what had happened (thinking ruffians and vandals) and saw this:

And this:

I couldn't really make sense of what I was seeing. But, it did explain the smoke smell in the night. And, it completely validated my sanity. Mostly, though, I felt sick for the car's owner. What a horrible start to the day.

Currently, we're not really sure if the fire started with the car or the trash. The trash makes the most sense initially, but it rained yesterday, making all of the trash soggy and wet. However, there are some folks that smoke right there where the melted, blue dumpster is, and they don't always take care to put out the cigarettes when they are finished, which could have sparked a fire. I also felt compassion for this person who was parked in front of the burnt car:

The back bumper was literally melted off. Another bad start to someone's day. Here's some of the burnt trash/melted trash bag that ended up on our doorstep:

At some point while we were gawking at the damage, it occurred to me that my crazy, middle-of-the-night prayers were not in vain, as we have a wooden front door and the fire was, quite literally, right outside. PTL. 

Brad posted a picture of the mess on Facebook this morning, and he got all kinds of comments like "how did you not hear that?" (in addition to the fire, the fire department came and put out the fire around 1:30 a.m.). As to why we didn't hear it: our apartment literally has soundproofing throughout (a previous tenet was in recording and soundproofed parts of our place), and we can't hear anything from the back half of the apartment (which is where our bedroom is). It's not that we're just incredibly deep sleepers (at least, one of us isn't); we're just well insulated.

Anyway, that was an exciting beginning to our day. Anybody else have a story?

Letter to my Little Bear

Bearsy,

It's that time again...I feel like I JUST wrote your last letter. I know people say that time flies by and that I should have listened, but I'm just now realizing it in full. The last month just kind of disappeared somehow (not that we weren't having fun; it just went by really quickly).

We're still working on the hands-in-mouth situation.

Right now, you're taking a nap in your crib back in your room. That's right: while we were in Alabama, Daddy moved your crib into it's official spot. You've been in our room since you were born, partially because it was easier for me and partially because we have had a lot of guests (who stay in your room). You're not crazy about sleeping in there just yet. Probably because we just returned from spending three weeks with family that doesn't get to see you very often, and you were held most all the time. You don't like reality...the one where you have to nap in your crib. Bless your heart. And bless ours; we've had our nerves jostled quite a bit by the very adorable screaming you've been up to. 

The past month you've rolled from your tummy to your back a couple of times. You're not crazy about that either. You completely scared yourself the first time you did it and didn't do it again for a few weeks. We know that you can do it, but we're not pushing you to become incredibly mobile until you're fully ready. Take your time, Baby Bear.

Happy Fourth of July!

You do this really cute thing where you cross your ankles. So ladylike. You also are *this* close to sitting up on your own, and you love to stand (with help). It's pretty incredible to me how strong your muscles are! Seriously...I wish I had your core strength.

At your last doctor's appointment, you jumped from the 12th percentile for weight to the 20th. Woo! Hopefully, the doctors won't think I'm not feeding you any more. Just kidding. I hope...

Your height is in the 87th percentile, by the way. You little runway model, you.

Pretty much everyone (and I'm not exaggerating very much when I say "everyone") comments on your eyes. We hear things like, "Those eyes!" or "What gorgeous eyes!" or, in the case of the 15-year-old boy that rode next to us on one of our flights, "Your daughter has AMAZING eyes!" They are very cute. And, you use them very effectively. Are you doing that on purpose?

18 weeks old. We're sort of missing your pictures for weeks 19-21. Mommy failed to take the pillow with us to Alabama...

While we were south, we learned that you love the beach. Yay! You were completely happy with your feet in the water and your toes in the sand. I couldn't be prouder.

You were also AWESOME while traveling by plane. You made lots of friends and won lots of hearts. My life was made so much easier because of your happy disposition and good-naturedness. Thank you!

Crossed ankles! In your own room! 5 months / 22 weeks old!

We think you're adorable and sweet and precious. I keep thinking you just can't get any cuter and then you do. Daddy and I love you so so so so so so so much that we can hardly stand it!

P.S. Stop growing. It makes me cry a little. 

Alabama Gulf Coast...the best beaches.

*I got super behind again. Shocker, right? We're back in Boston now, so I should have several posts coming at ya over the next few days.

Seriously. You can argue with me if you want, but I know I'm right. If you've never been to the Alabama Gulf Coast, you should start planning a trip. (I realize some folks prefer more lively waves and whatnot or the kinds of beaches that you don't swim at-like in New England- but for REAL beaching, the Gulf wins, hands down). The water is gorgeous and so floatable (although, there are plenty of mild waves to jump, if that's your thing). The sand is like sugar (like, super white, awesomely soft, refined sugar). The beaches are more classy than tacky. It's just fabulous.

Even when it rains. Which it did a couple of the days we were down there last week. Maybe I should have started this post with a comment about how my parents, Amiee, Claire, and I spent last week in Orange Beach...

We arrived after our day of lousy travel and had approximately 36 hours at home before heading south. We had no idea how Bearsy would do with such a long drive, but we found out: she was awesome. Such a good car baby. It took us a little longer than usual to drive down, thanks to some wretched weather that had all the cars crawling, as well as needing to stop for feedings and diaper changes, but it was not even close to being miserable. Go Bear!

Bear's first ever Wal-Mart sighting. Fact about Massachusetts: they are very anti Wal-Mart up here. They feel that it jeopardizes local, Mom-and-Pop enterprises. I definitely miss it.

Our sunny days were hit and miss, but we had tons of fun, anyway. Mom and Dad had a little pop-up beach tent for Claire, which was perfect. She loved the sand and the water and napping on the beach. Couldn't have asked for a better first reaction to the beach. Go Bear!

My favorite picture of the two of us. This is probably due to my vanity. I am back to my pre-pregnancy weight, so I'm not quite as critical of pictures of myself.

Nana (my mom) bought THE. CUTEST. swimsuits for Bearsy. Seriously. How adorable is that?

We set up shop on the beach next to an awesome sand sculptor a couple of days in a row. Here's one of his creations:

I wish I'd gotten pictures of the Mater (like, from Cars) that he did. That was my favorite.

We watched movies when we couldn't be on the beach and spent an afternoon at the outlet malls in Foley. Bear came out of that adventure with some fabulous new pieces (thanks, Poppy, Nana, and Bo!). We also introduced her to some favorites, like Lambert's Cafe ("home of the throwed rolls!") and Tacky Jack's. I think she was slightly overwhelmed at Lambert's, having fun nonetheless. (By the way, Amiee is an okra hoarder at Lambert's. I even snapped a picture for proof.)

"Whoa...what is this place?"

Mmhmm. We're on to you, Amiee.

A little side bonus was running into a former co-worker from Union while we were at the outlets. Fun! Claire drooled all over her, of course. 

On the way back to Huntsville, we stopped in Birmingham to visit with Susu and family (Her real name is Susan...no worries. We've been friends with them forever, so we call her Susu.) It was such a short visit, but I was really happy to introduce Bearsy and Susu, Joshua, and Jonathan!

Ok. That's week one of our southerly adventures. I'll get more pictures uploaded and posted in the next few days. Probably. Hopefully.

So Bear is not my good luck talisman...

I've actually been working on this post for almost a week, but I lost it mid-week, and incidentally lost my will to write. Hope you enjoy.

It's no secret that I tend to have lousy air travel experiences. Here's a little reminder of a certain never-ending-trip-to-Ukraine that Amiee and I had. It's just one story among a host of other travels gone wrong. Basically, when I'm flying somewhere- anywhere- I resign myself to the fact that something will probably go amiss and that is ok. It has always worked out, and I can add another story to my repertoire. 

Which brings me to this past Friday. Bearsy and I are visiting Sweet Home Alabama and thusly had to travel by air. (Brad is holding down the fort; he was invited to join, of course, but his schedule would not permit. We miss him.) Our itinerary was simple: Boston to Charlotte. One hour layover. Charlotte to Huntsville. How much could really go amiss?

So much.

Our flight from Boston to Charlotte wasn't bad. Bear's ears gave us no trouble. We were seated next to a very nice lady who loves babies. There was a changing table in the bathroom. All good things.

Charlotte is where things started unraveling. We landed in terminal B and had to hoof it to terminal E. I was wearing Bearsy in a sling and carrying her diaper bag and a tote of my own, so I wasn't as burdened as I could have been (but I was still a tad bit encumbered). We made it to E, and I was even able to pick up a sandwich that I paid for with my debit card but probably could have traded Bear for, given it's price. When I got to the right gate, I made sure the little scrolly screen said "Huntsville 2:19 pm." It did. 

But, it also said "Washington Dulles 2:22 pm."

Huh. That's weird. I had never seen that before. I got seated and got Claire set up with her paci and lovey and then heard the US Airways gal making an announcement that she realized both destinations were listed and that she was trying to find out what gate the Huntsville flight was actually supposed to leave from. I made a mental note not to get too comfortable because we'd probably be leaving soon.

2:19 pm loomed nearer and nearer and no announcement was made about where we should relocate to. I started getting a little antsy about our flight being delayed, because I had timed Claire's eating schedule to coincide with take offs and landings (you know, so her ears would pop and she wouldn't experience excruciating pain). I realized my plan was derailed, so I went ahead and gave her a bottle that I had...ahem...prepared in advance for her (please note that she is exclusively nursed, so preparing a bottle in advance takes a little effort on my part. This is an important element to the story. And, yes, if you're male or really not interested in reading about baby-feeding mishaps and how it affects that baby's nursing mother, you might want to skip the rest of this post. Please consider yourself warned.). Claire was only about halfway through her bottle when the announcement was made to inform us that the Huntsville flight was not delayed but CANCELED and would we please make our way down to the customer service desk for rebooking.

Great. Everyone stampeded down to the customer service desk, leaving me, my baby, and our stuff in their dust...and incidentally at the back of the line. I called mom to let her know the change of plans, and she got on the phone with US Airways while I waited in line so that we could attack the problem from two sides. My mother is nothing if not proficient in dealing with her offsprings' wonky travel issues. 

So there I was, holding a fussy baby who just wanted her bottle forgoodnesssake, and sliding her diaper bag along with my foot (ew...I try not to think about that). I eventually got rebooked for the 10:35 pm flight (it was 2:30 at this point). I was less than thrilled at the prospect of having to keep Claire in the airport all day and mess with her sleep schedule so thoroughly, but I know babies are rather resilient and worse things could happen. As I resigned myself to this, my mom called with good news that the US Airways folks had gotten me on a Delta flight to Atlanta (followed by a flight to Huntsville), but I had to start booking it NOW. I scooped up Bearsy (who had fallen asleep after crying and not being able to finish her food...I know...SAD) and started moving. Mom said I needed to stop at the nearest US Airways desk to have someone put in a transfer for my bags...and request a little motorized cart driver to hurry me along. I managed to get both of those things done. Well, sort of. The cart only carried me to the end of the E terminal, where I had to switch to my own ambulatory skills because of an escalator situation. 

Bearsy and I made our way back the B terminal (imagine me with a bag bouncing on each shoulder, a wobbly-headed baby strapped to my front, sweating profusely [me, not the baby], and panting like a weary desert traveler) and got in line to talk to the Delta folks about getting my boarding pass. I did talk to them and was told that, even though I had a confirmation number, I couldn't get on the plane because I had no reservation. 

Um...does. not. compute. 

She explained again, and I looked at her, despairingly. I hobbled over to a chair and started giving Bearsy the rest of her bottle (she had awakened and realized her hunger after the hobble-run I had just put her through) while I called Mom to explain. Neither of us understood. She told me to go back and give her the ticket number that she (Mom) had just received from the US Airways gal. I did. 

I was told the same thing.

I must have looked a mess, because the Delta rep said she would make it happen. Please keep in mind that the plane was completely loaded at this point and they were paging random passengers that had never shown. It was a Hail Mary pass of sorts. (Incidentally, that football term was coined at Boston College. Doug Flutie. 1984.) 

She worked on the computer and got us on the plane (found out from Mom later that the US Airways representative she talked to on the phone stayed on the phone with her the whole time to make sure this happened). I had to make my way to aisle 20 with everyone on the plane watching, and I had to take a middle seat, but at least I was on my way.

I was out of bottles for Claire, so I prayed fervently for her ears and made her suck on her paci like it was her job. She did beautifully, even with the screaming two-year-old who was in front of us. I, on the other hand, was starting to feel a taddy bit uncomfortable, thanks to the fact that our feeding schedule had gotten off track, and I'd had no time to...um...deal with the situation, if you get me. 

Our flight to Atlanta boarded on time...and then sat for a while because of weather. By my watch's calculations, we were going to have about 30 minutes to get to our Huntsville-bound flight once we landed in Atlanta. I was close on the time estimate: we actually had 15 minutes. And, naturally, we had to get from terminal D to B. I ran. In sandals. And walked up the escalator. 

I arrived sweaty, out-of-breath, and looking like a hobo...only to find that we'd missed the flight by TWO MINUTES. Of course. I dragged us down to the Delta customer service desk and a very nice man rebooked us for the 7:22 flight. The lady behind the desk with him told me that she had seen me running for my flight and that I had been "earning it." I'm glad someone appreciated my efforts.

Since we had a bit of time before our next flight, I decided that it was time to take care of a few things, like using the bathroom (since I hadn't used the bathroom for 8 hours...seriously) and dealing with the...um...feeding/bottle situation. 

Remember how earlier I said that you might not want to read parts of this post? This is your final warning; if you continue reading and are horrified, I cannot be held liable. 

Ready? Seriously, last chance.

Ok, so Bearsy and I headed to a bathroom, hoping to find one of those stalls that has a baby changing station. Alas, there was not one. I settled for a large, handicapped stall (there was more than one, so I wasn't leaving anyone completely high and dry). Now, part of my struggle was that I didn't have anywhere to set Bearsy down, since I was carrying her in a sling. As there was no changing table to strap her into, I had to be resourceful. I decided that that taking care of the bottle situation was of greater priority to my well-being than actually using the bathroom, so I sat on the toilet, fully clothed, and settled Bearsy on my lap. She fell asleep (sort of; the toilets kept flushing and disturbing her), and I got to work. (Incidentally, the automatic toilet flushing was problematic for me, as the toilet I was sitting on kept flushing. Oi. How nice is that?)

I got out all of my bottle-preparing gear and got to work, while sitting on the toilet with Bearsy on my lap and praying that the automatic flushing situation wouldn't leave my shorts all wet. As I was in this very glamorous and compromising situation, pondering my life and how awkward it was, the lock on my stall door turned, the door opened, and a janitor lady got a full-on shot of it all. 

And then, she stood there gawking for more than a couple of seconds! Thankfully, she came to her senses and shut the door but not before my dignity had disappeared. Goodness gracious.

I finally finished up and moved on to changing Bear's diaper out in the main part of the bathroom (I never did get to use the bathroom, btw). In an awkward turn of events, I caught, out of the corner of my eye, a glimpse of the Stall Door Opener. What was more, she kept staring at me! Perhaps I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure that the rule for this kind of situation is that you pretend nothing ever happened and that you don't even see the victim of the awkwardness. Well, Ms. Janitor Lady obviously does not hold to this code, because not only did she stare at me, she spoke to me on my way out! She was just asking about Bear, but I mean. You just don't do that.

After that, things became rather anti-climactic: our next flight was on time and uneventful, we arrived safely and so did our luggage, and I finally got to use the bathroom when we arrived at my parents'. Sort of a disappointing ending, isn't it? 

Anyway, Bear and I agreed amongst ourselves that we're not traveling without Brad again. We just aren't.

Cover up.

Claire is officially in her cloth diapers (well, at least most of the time). She actually has been for over a month now. The verdict? We love them. Truly. 

(So, this post is about diapers. That may interest some of you, but there's a good chance a lot of you won't care. It won't hurt my feelings if you don't want to read it. I get that. Come back later...I promise not to write about diapers regularly. Probably. We'll see.)

We committed to the cloth diapering route before Bear was born*, and I won't lie that we were a taddy bit apprehensive about how it would go. We decided to go with cloth because of the financial savings we calculated. In the long run, it's a substantial amount. Even with having to pay per load that we wash (I crunched a lot of numbers. Huge headache, for sure.), we would save over $1,000 if she potty trains before she's 3. That's just a savings that we couldn't ignore. 

We went with this brand. Our diapers are one-size/all-in-ones. The one-size thing should allow her to grow into them without us having to upgrade to a bigger size (i.e. buy more diapers). I will say that this original plan didn't work out for us for the first couple of months because Claire is so not even a little bit chubby. The diapers swallowed her for quite a while, which probably actually worked out for the best, since my post-delivery recovery took a bit longer than anticipated and learning the cloth diaper routine took a few days of figuring. 

The all-in-one part of the diaper  means that our diapers don't have removable inserts; we weren't too enthused about having to reach into a dirty diaper and remove an insert. We did get a few of those, but I stitched those suckers in so that we avoid the reaching-yucky-gross situation. I stitched them on just one end of the diaper so that we can pull the clean insert out to dry after going through the wash. Oh yes...we're committed to avoiding contact with dirty inserts.

We were so blessed to have been given most of our diapers and then gift cards that we used to pad out our number. Currently, we have 23 diapers. Because of needing to pay $2.00 per load washed, we wanted to make sure that we filled out each load as much as possible. We've gotten our washing system worked out to where we wash 20 or 21 at a time. The diapers are supposed to air dry (which we do with all of our clothes anyway, except for specific situations), so we have to wait a bit for that to happen after each wash cycle. If we wash in the evening and dry overnight, we can usually get by with just 2 diapers during that time. If we have to wait for them to dry during the day, we sometimes dip into our disposable diaper stash. (We definitely have disposables on hand at all times for situations like drying diapers or going out for a while or when she has a diaper rash and we need to use creams that aren't compatible with the materials in the cloth diapers.**).

When it comes time to clean and wash them, we have a fairly simple system. First, we installed a life-saving sprayer. It's a sprayer (like the kind in a kitchen sink) that hooks up to the water supply on the toilet. When she has a dirty diaper, we take it to the bathroom, spray it off into the toilet, and flush. We are big fans of this process. It gets the diaper really cleaned off prior to washing. After spraying, we drop them in our wet bag (we got this one) where they hang out until laundry day (we wash diapers twice/week). The wet bag does an awesome job of containing odors. For washing, we just dump the wet bag into the machine (every few washes, we drop the bag itself in, too). We recently discussed how much those steps have NOT inconvenienced our lives. It's a little shocking, really, how easy it's been. 

This is what the diaper looks like: lots of snaps! The two rows across the top allow for size adjustment around her waist. Currently, it's still pretty tight on our thin wee one. The three lower rows that are more spread apart are for adjusting the length. You may have guessed this, but yes, she's still in the shortest length. See what it looks like here:

When you open it up all the way, you have these two flaps that overlap each other, covering all the bases. So far, we've had no blow outs with the cloth diapers...that cannot be said of our disposables, unfortunately. Right, Kat?

These are the four colors that we have. We have exactly one pink one (although, I think it's adorable), 3 green ones, 5 yellow ones, and the rest are white. At first, we thought we wanted a bunch of fun colors, but we actually really like our white ones. They go with everything. #winning

This is one of the ways that we dry the diapers. Classy, right? There's a dehumidifier in our hallway, and that helps dry them SO quickly. I sort of stumbled across that solution accidentally and am so glad I did. #stillwinning

Here's Bearsy modeling one of her diapers while she was way of the wild. So cute, right? #winningthemostever

Anyway, that's the rundown on the diaper situation. We're really happy with them. Like, a lot. Yay.

*Please don't hear me making any commentary on anyone's diapering choices. We're big fans of both cloth and disposables and don't judge anyone on their diapering preferences. I've just gotten a lot of questions on how the cloth diapering is progressing and thought I'd tell you about it. Go forth and diaper as you see fit! No judgment here!
**Incidentally, we realize that there are natural options and organic brands of diaper rash cream that we could invest in, but we really like a specific brand and are willing to put her in disposables for a day or so for it to take effect. We are also aware that repetitive diaper rash should be checked into, and we're on it with our pediatrician, so no worries! 

Krafting with Kat

I got behind again. As hard as I try not to let it become a thing, it's a thing. Oi.

Unfortunately, I didn't get too many more pictures with Kat. I shouldn't have gotten so cocky about how well we were doing. Sheesh. We also didn't get out and about too much more, as it was a) super hot and humid and b) Bearsy was on a nap strike while Kat was here. That was a combo that was hard to combat.

So, we worked our way through all 3 seasons of Duck Dynasty (I knew Kat needed to be exposed to the duck men) and worked on a special project for our prize Bear (that's what Amiee calls her...isn't that presh?). I've been wanting a mobile for her since we brought her home from the hospital. She LOVES looking at things: pictures, mirrors, lights, the ceiling, blank walls...I wanted something pretty and exciting for her to look at while falling asleep. I'd seen several that I liked on Pinterest, one in particular. The one I most liked was listed on Etsy for $78.00. Yeah...we don't have that kind of money for a mobile. 

However, Kat is an artist. A legit artist: she's in graduate school getting her Master's of Fine Arts. She's so talented! She's a photographer (like, one with a ridiculously fancy camera with which she works magic), she creates the most amazing graphically-designed invitations and announcements, and her mind is full of ideas. So, I put her in charge of Project: Make Bearsy a Mobile as Cheaply as Possible.

In no time, she analyzed my inspiration mobile and drafted a plan for ours. Like most crafts, the plan morphed a bit over the course of the project, but she designed our plan of attack and sketched out our templates. Meanwhile, I rustled up supplies, which consisted of: my button collections, a stash of t-shirt remnants (I had a lot left over from when I made my mom a t-shirt quilt), fabric swatches from Africa and previous sewing projects, thread, and polyfil stuffing. We worked on it together for two afternoons, and I finished it up after Kat had to go back home. 

Finished project (please excuse the pictures...it's hard to photograph mobiles! And, I had to hang it from the shower curtain rod to get these shots. Try not to judge the state of the grout, please.):

I'm really happy with the end result, and Bear has been riveted when I've shown it to her! Also, Kat and I decided that we're in the wrong business; if we could make these and sell these for half of what some Etsy sellers do, we'd be doing WELL. Anybody need one? We'll make you a good deal, nice lady. (Anyone ever hear that line when shopping tourist venues in foreign countries?)

Thanks, Kat, for working with me on this labor of love. Bearsy LOVES it! Can't wait to get it hung for her.