First visit with Santa

Well, this is something that I never did as a child: The meeting with Santa. The religious group in which I grew up was pretty zealous about not celebrating any holidays that may have had a religious meaning behind them. We had no Christmas tree when I was a child, though my immediate family and one set of grandparents did give gifts. (Ironicially, we celebrated the entirely secular holiday of Thanksgiving with gusto.) Visiting Santa was out of the question. Indeed, from the first I knew that "Santa Claus," he of the red suit and herd of reindeer and elven slavery, was a myth. Sinful child that I was, I maliciously ruined Christmas for some neighbor children, making sure to let them know that, "Fools, Santa isn't real!"

Now, as a mom, this is one battle that I'm choosing not to fight, or at least not to go out of my way to fight. I plan to avoid Halloween like the plague no matter how cute kids in costume look, but Santa is ubiquitous, and, as far as I'm concerned, harmless. As my parents did with me, I told Jonah that Santa is a pretend man who rides around in a sleigh with reindeer and is believed to bring children gifts. My kids won't actually receive gifts from Santa, nor will I ever stand in line at the mall so they can sit on his lap, but I won't go out of my way to avoid Santa. Our children will know about Nicholas, saint and Bishop of Myra, and, admittedly, things could get a little confusing when the kids learn that "Santa Claus" is a corruption of "Saint Nicholas." For now, though, Santa Claus of the reindeer and Saint Nicholas whom we honor on the 6th of December are two entirely different people.

This Santa fell into our laps. This fall, Jonah's been attending a Chicago Park District "play class" near our house. The class lasts for 1 hour and 45 minutes, which has been just enough time for me to go grocery shopping or play at the park with just Manny before arriving breathless and one or two minutes late for pick-up. For the last day of class, there was party (of sorts) at which the kids could play with toys and ride-on cars and tricycles in the big gym, eat way too much sugar and meet Santa. Jonah was totally enthusiastic about the first two, but unsure about the third choice. After he saw a couple other kids walk away from Santa with a toy, he decided to give it a try.

Mr. Tom, Jonah's teacher for play class, is on the left. Jonah really liked him. You may notice somebody fixing Santa's beard in the back. Because he knew Santa wasn't "real," Jonah wasn't bothered by the fiddling around.
Can you see the green beard Jonah's wearing? Store-bought cupcakes with (what I consider) nasty frosting.

Apparently, this defective-beard Santa only brings cellophane stockings filled with cheap plastic toys from China that Mama throws in the garbage within fifteen minutes of arriving home. I wish my kids realized how lame that is.

In case you're wondering, Manny did not like Santa at all. He was concerned when I went near Santa to take a picture of Jonah. When Santa left and shouted "Merry Christmas!" while waving at the kids, Manny almost burst into tears; he only didn't cry because someone distracted him with a cellophane stocking of his own. Apparently he's not crafty enough to avoid being suckered in my cheap toys, just like his brother.

Happy Birthday, J-Bird!

I still can't decide if it's hard to believe or not: It's been three years since Jonah rocketed into the world, 3 minutes till midnight on July 4, our "joke" due date. ('Cuz who ever thinks that their first child, a boy, will be born 11 days before his due date, on a holiday? It was a joke 'round our place, evidenced by the fact that my hospital bag was only half packed.) I say that I can't decide because it seems like there was hardly a time before there was Jonah in Gabriel and my married life, though I do have fond memories of our dating, engaged and married life, all not-quite 3 years of it, before Jonah was born. At any rate, it's been three years of the child known variously as "Jonah-Bean," "The Jonah Owl," "Senor Impaciente," "Mr. Poop," which morphed into "Mr. Poo," and , currently, "Little Bear" or "J-Bird". Considering my pregnancy, the extent of our summer travels and the fact that it still sort of seems to me that we "just moved," we opted for a lower-key celebration this year, inviting just a few mom-friends and their offspring over to our place for play, lunch and cake. The party managed to be fun without being crazy (at least that's my interpretation of it), and Jonah thoroughly enjoyed himself. That's the important thing, right?

(You wouldn't know it from the photos below, but we had eight children and five mamas in the house. Clearly, I should've designated picture-taking. Also, the darkish quality of the first few pictures is due to the fact that Gabriel bought me a spectacular new camera for Christmas, but I often forget that I need to switch the setting from outdoor to indoor. Also, there's something called a "flash" that really brightens things up. Who knew?)

I made Jonah a construction sign / dump truck cake, chocolate inside (from Christopher Kimball's "The Cook's Bible"), cream cheese frosting (Betty Crocker cookbook). It was a really good cake. Jonah was a bit perturbed that I put his dump truck out of commission for an evening and a day, but I do think that he forgave me. It's not for nothing that we call him "Jonah the Merciful." I made the mistake of telling Jonah to smile. Yup, that's a camera-worthy smile, not a grimace of pain. It took long enough for him to blow out the candles that I actually got a picture of it. Maybe that's why no one else ate the cake?

Jonah was able to choose his birthday breakfast on July 4. He chose French toast, which surprisingly won out over pancakes. Jonah loves to help me in the kitchen. "Help," of course, is a relative term, but I do like to have him with me. Look, he's mixing the egg mix with all my measuring spoons. Hey, whatever's handy!

Happy 3rd Birthday, Jonah! You are our little sweetie, and we love you dearly.

Adios, James

Well, we finally had to say "Good-bye" to dear James. But not without a few pictures! (Disclosure: These events all transpired two weeks ago. I've been busy.)

A couple evenings before they left, Katie and James met us at the park for some fun. The boys decided that it would be way more fun to play football on the concrete than play on the much safer rubbery-matted playground. Boys will be boys, I guess.
James celebrates an amazing pass. It's not his fault Jonah didn't catch it!
"Go long, Bia!" (As an aside: How awesome does my son look with his "short pants", jean jacket, and ponytail? He loves this jean jacket.)

James was born to be a footballer. Look at that form! Ball tucked safely in, leaping curbs in a single bound. He'll fit right in with those Texas boys, fer shur.
The day before their departure, Katie threw a going-away party for James. Moms and tots gathered for fun and food on what turned out to be a beautiful day.
Lynn took the time to teach Jonah how to catch. He was into it until he detected the noise of a truck passing on Addison, which is why he's gazing over his left shoulder. Trucks are still more captivating than ball for our little man, though just barely.
Jonah and Josie (to whom we'll have to say good-bye in a month or so!) party with the big red car.
We managed to get all kids seated at the same time and, thanks to Kendra's marvelous rendition of "Baby Beluga" (Jonah's new favorite song, by the way, ever since James gave him a copy of the CD), they even managed to look in the same direction at the same time. It was amazing!

L-R are: Miles; James; Isaac, Jonah; Josie; Maggie & Susanna (sisters).

Jonah was pretty excited about his first cupcake ever, though he ended up only licking the frosting off it rather than actually eating it. I think most of the excitement came from having a portable cake; he held on to it for a good ten minutes, if not more like twenty. And don't worry, folks, he polished off a whole one the next day, and asked for more to boot. (Speaking of "excited", a separate story: Pop-Pop and Gangee visited this weekend. Before they came, Jonah said to me many, many times: "Pop-Pop. Gangee. 'Cited." He truly was. I'm glad that he informed me of it, too, because it was too cute.)
James was kind enough to put together gift bags for his Chicago friends with a few of his favorite things inside. I'm pretty sure that Katie had something to do with helping him with this project, but James wouldn't say. Here's James, handing out the goodies. Jonah continues to clutch his cupcake in his right hand, while reaching for a gift with his left. This boy knows what a party is about.
And here's Jonah, testing the goodies. These glasses were his favorite things out of the bag. This is also one of my favorite pictures of Jonah to date. And there in the back of this picture is Auntie Katie, one of Jonah's favorite people in the world. Thanks for the party, Auntie Katie!
And where was Manny? He enjoyed this party, like so many others, the best way he knew how: by sleeping thru it.
Adios, dear James! We miss you!