Christmas, Giblin Style

They say that there are two things that a person can count on in his life -- death and taxes.  I've always wanted to challenge that as I've found that there are many things that I can count on -- my Ella refusing to wear socks during the worst of morning winter rushes when I have a meeting necessitating that I catch a train no later than the 7:32am, my Cal using his sleeve as a napkin to wipe the mix of spaghetti sauce and milk off of his mouth and chin, my Dan complaining about how most NBA players travel every time they touch the ball or an NFL lineman grossly celebrating his single tackle but never his missed tackles, old friends making me laugh, new friends asking me if I'm okay, my mom, my dad, my sister.

And the Giblin Christmas.

Every year on the Saturday before Christmas, many, many... a crazy many Giblins, either in name, in blood, in marriage or all of the above, gather on the southwest side of Chicago to celebrate Christmas together.  They've been doing this for longer than I even know -- I only started attending this affair after I had been dating Dan for a year, nine or so years ago.

I'll admit, it's still a little overwhelming, and I know all (most?) of the Giblins now.  There are just so many of them, and now that the cousins are getting married (goodness, not to each other, of course) the clan is only getting bigger.  Names are repeating and getting tougher to remember.  I've learned to be awkwardly comfortable with and get my "hello, Merry Christmas" kisses out of the way right away, finally knowing -- or thinking I know -- the name of the person I'm kissing for practically all kisses.  I don't, however, think I've yet kissed Nicky and/or Lea "hello" -- they are identical twins, and I just... can't... tell them apart.  This is not a knock against me, though -- Dan can't, either, and he's known them for 30-ish years.  But lots of hello kisses are something you can count on at the Giblin Christmas.

By the time we get there, most of the aunts (Dan's mom included) are in the kitchen preparing all of the food.  In my early years, I think it was all homemade; and it's been a mix of homemade and catered in recent years.  There's always a fantastic salad, sometimes chicken mornay and other times chicken alfredo and rolls; and this year was the first year I remember mac and cheese and chicken strips for the kids.  Whatever the specifics, it's always a good spread followed by homemade desserts.  But plenty of good food is something you can count on at the Giblin Christmas.

There are SO MANY kids running around, mostly Leatherman offspring but some similarly aged Giblins.  And the funny thing is that there are rarely any parents chasing them around or scolding them -- they're little magnets, these kids, stuck to each other from the moment they walk through the door at the Giblin Christmas party, through their half-eaten dinners, through the opening of their Christmas gifts, to changing into their jammies, and only pried apart when it's time to leave.  Yes, kids who are generally well behaved, contained and just naturally enjoying their time together is something you can count on at the Giblin Christmas.

Grandma Gibs, the matriarch, the single person responsible for all of these people gathering together that Saturday before Christmas every year, is always present, always beautiful and always smiling.  I often wonder what's going through her head as she witnesses all that's happening at the party.  Pride.  Amusement.  Pleasure.  Love.  That her ten children are so close to each other and seem to value family above all else is remarkable and falls on her shoulders, and this is something that you can count on witnessing at the Giblin Christmas.

Waiting for gifts from Gibs

And the gifts.  Grandma Gibs gives presents to all of the kids who are (I think) not of high school age.  The kids know this and, I'm certain, look forward to getting their gifts from Grandma Gibs every year.  In recent years, this one included, family friend, Tom, has played Santa and handed out the gifts to the kids, lined up around the Christmas tree and each patiently waiting for his name to be called.  Yes, the kids opening gifts from Gibs is something you can count on at the Giblin Christmas.

Perhaps my favorite moment at the Giblin Christmas is the first note sung as this signifies the start of the musical part of the evening.  I generally find a seat in the back, if I'm not already sitting, and prepare to listen to the acapella carols.  This year, I had tired Ella on my lap, making it entirely more peaceful than usual.  An aunt usually leads the kids for a round of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" and/or "Frosty the Snowman," almost never getting the words right, making it even more entertaining that it is otherwise.  The aunts and Gibs always sing "The Little Drummer Boy," each one having a specific role to play in the song.  Uncle Mike always sings "Oh, Holy Night," which he kills and gives me chills as this is my favorite Christmas song.  Cousin Bill always sings "Ave Maria" (or is it "Santa Maria"... or are they the same song?) fantastically.  Aforementioned twin cousins Nicky and Lea sing a couple of duets, generally not Christmas songs but beautiful nonetheless. Every once in awhile, this year excluded, Gibs sings "Danny Boy."  And this year, we even had a special "Grinch" skit performed very Grinch-like by Uncle Jim.  Yes, entertainment and beautiful singing is something you can count on at the Giblin Christmas.

The Giblin Christmas happens snow or shine, and sometimes people just can't make it. Aunt Nor, Uncle Dyko, Aunt Holly, Laurie you were missed this year -- Merry Christmas!

I love that the Leatherkids are a part of this, the Giblin Christmas, a strong family tradition and perhaps the first thing (other than Mommy and Daddy) that they've learned to count on in their lives.

Ella and the Chickmunks

On our way into the City for our annual, New Guy-coordinated Friends' Christmas dinner, we found ourselves sitting in the crazy, fully expected yet optimistically hopeful that it won't be so bad traffic on the Eisenhower.  There was a Hawks game to get to, I'm sure many special dinners and shows to enjoy and, well, bad drivers just itching to get some practice in.  The Eisenhower was apparently the place to be (or not to be, depending upon one's perspective).

But that's not the point of my post...

So we're in this crazy traffic with plenty of opportunities to read the billboards that line the highway, and Ella exclaims from the backseat, "The Chickmunk movie!!!"

I looked up and a bit to my right and, sure enough, an electronic billboard advertising the latest Alvin and the Chipmunks movie was in full view.

"Where, Ella?" Cal asked.  The sign had already changed.  Fortunately for us (or unfortunately, again, depending upon one's perspective), we were not moving; and by the time it came around again to shine bright in the sky, Cal was able to see it.

"You're reading, Ella!" I told her, excitedly.

Ella proceeded to talk more about it, calling them "chickmunks" every time.  Dan decided to educate her.

"It's Chipmunk, Baby Girl," he started.

"Chickmunk," said Ella.

"ChiPmunk," said Dan.

"Chickmunk."

"ChiPmunk... with a 'P'," he tried.

"No, Daddy, I'm talking about the Chickmunk MOVIE," Ella said, frustrated.

And then the education kind of fizzled out.  Could it be that she doesn't associate Alvin with being a chipmunk and really thinks that chipmunks and chickmunks are two different things?  Not sure that we'll ever know, really.  I'm just going to enjoy how she says it for now.

Santa Called!

Picture with Santa, 2014

I had this plan to take the Leatherkids to see Santa Claus every year.  They'd sit in his lap, clearly and cutely articulate what they wanted for Christmas and then smile big for a picture that I'd place over the previous year's picture in a wintery frame dedicated to share my kids' Christmas joy with everyone who visited our house during the holiday season.  Every year this would happen.

Yeah, right.  If I've learned one thing about kids, it's that things rarely actually go as planned.  Take last year's picture (left) as an example.  One can imagine the events that led up to this gem.  Now, Dan and I certainly didn't plan on being in the picture, nor did we plan on Ella being completely and utterly terrified of Santa.  Santa peering and laughing at Ella while Cal sits on his lap as if nothing unusual or ridiculous is going on as the picture is snapped makes me laugh every time I look at it.  Amusing? Yes. Worth the $20 we paid for it?  Not so much.

This year, I'll admit, the idea that we'd once again pay Santa an in-person visit did cross my mind.  I even verbalized it, suggesting that we go to Bass Pro Shop for this year's photo op a Saturday ago -- it'd be free if we donated a toy.  Thankfully, Cal got an invitation for a play date that derailed even the loosest of plans; and we haven't yet made it to the velvetty red lap of the jovial gentleman nor do I now expect we will.

Truth be told, I'm glad.  I felt like I was the only one in this family even remotely interested in the sitting-in-Santa's-lap tradition, and I think that was really only because that's what kids are supposed to do.  Cal couldn't care less but cooperates if that's what we're doing.  Ella is probably still terrified of the man.  The wait would surely be long, creating an environment prime for the Leatherkids acting up -- running around, bumping into people, climbing on things, whining, yelling -- and this would get on Dan's nerves to no end.  And I would be watching it all happen and trying to keep everyone happy because it was my idea in the first place yet inside wanting to just explode and run away from the scene altogether.

Thursday was Cal's 7th birthday.  We went to a restaurant of his choice for dinner and then to Yogurt Beach for a birthday dessert.  We were home for a few minutes when the phone rang and the phone announced the number, unfamiliar to us, that was calling.  Ordinarily, if we don't recognize a phone number, we don't answer the phone.  But something clicked in my head, and I told Ella to run and get it.  I had a feeling I knew who was calling despite not being familiar with the number.

She picked it up, "Hello?"  I could hear a voice on the other end.  A deep man's voice.  I couldn't make out what he was saying, but I knew who it was.  I remembered at that moment having arranged for this call.  It was Santa.  I grabbed the phone from Ella and put it on speaker so we could all hear him.

He first asked for Cal, so I handed the phone to Cal who's expression told us he was a bit shocked at what was happening. Santa knew that Cal is in first grade and the school he goes to.  He asked Cal what he wanted for Christmas and when Cal froze, unable to answer, Santa threw out a couple of ideas... Pokemon Cards?  Baseball Cards?  Cal's eyes lit up, and he wondered how Santa knew this. I don't recall Santa's exact response, but it was some flavor of the lines from "Santa Clause is Coming to Town."

Santa then asked if Ella was there, so Cal handed the phone to Ella. Santa went through a similiar spiel, asking her hold old she is now and stating the school she goes to.  When asked what she might want for Christmas, Ella also froze; so Santa through out a couple of ideas... maybe a Rapunzel doll or an Ariel doll?  Ella smiled from ear to ear.  He also asked Ella if she could do something for him, and that was to leave a couple of cookies for him on Christmas Eve. Ella said she would.

Santa closed by saying that he'd better get going, that there was still a lot to do and that he was already starting to load up the sleigh.  He'd see them... well, not see them but pay a visit to their house on Christmas, which math-loving Cal of course declared was 15 days away.

It was great.  This call, while surely pretty standard, was interactive and perfect for the Leatherkids.  They were engaged and genuinely happy to be talking with Santa, a complete 180 from how they feel about sitting in his lap.  I think I may have found a nice alternative to paying a visit to Santa to sit in his lap and have a picture taken with him.  Sure, I don't have a physical memory of it; but the kids thoroughly enjoyed the call and I know will remember it for years to come.  And isn't that what's important?

It's Gonna Be a Pokemon Birthday

For reasons beyond my comprehension and I would imagine any rational thinker's comprehension, Cal is crazy interested in and borderline obsessed with all things related to Pokemon trading cards.  Why this one stuck and collecting and trading baseball cards (actually, stickers) didn't stick is beyond me -- he started doing them at essentially the same time, yet his collection of Pokemon cards is far more impressive than that of his baseball cards.

I'd include the names of some of the Pokemon characters that he's told me about in this post if I could -- I either can't spell them, didn't really understand his pronunciation of them or, to be honest, just wasn't listening when he was talking to me about it a time or two... or ten.  Pikachu and Mega Charizard EX are the only two that come to mind -- the former I had to Google to know how to spell, and the latter I only know how to spell because I asked him how to spell it once after hearing him talk about it fifty times.

From one day to the next, the set of cards with which Cal leaves the house in the morning isn't entirely the same as the set with which he returns later that day, having made some big trades with his classmates at some point during the day.  And sometimes it's literally been a "big trade" -- a time or two, he returned with a giant-sized Pokemon card, a big score in his eyes... at the time, anyway, as a few days later he had traded the giant-sized card for a regular-sized one or more, most likely getting some "Mega"-prefixed one or an "EX"-suffixed one, which are apparently the "stronger" cards of the Pokemon variety.

Not only does he like to have the cards, but he also likes to just look at endless pictures of the cards, spending most, if not all, of his allotted computer time Googling "Pokemon cards".  How.  Exciting.

For a couple of months now, Cal has been counting down to his birthday, I suspect less about the prospect of turning 7 and more about the prospect of getting more Pokemon cards.  He's written a few wish lists and has been verbally expressing near daily reminders that he wants more... MORE... MORE... Pokemon cards for his birthday, which will officially be here on December 10th.

The first hand-written birthday wish list that I can recall actually had on it something to the effect of "1. that Pokemon set that I almost bought at Target but bought the other one instead," as if I have a chance of remembering what that was.  His latest list is very detailed and quite compelling, leaving ZERO possibility that he won't get this for his birthday:

Cal's Latest Birthday Wish List

He gave me this on Monday.  Initially, he gave me two options to select, "Yes I will do it" and "No I will not."  It wasn't until I suggested that there was a third option, a Maybe option so as not to spoil any surprise, that he added the "I might do it!" option, which was the one I selected by circling it.

So while I don't and never will fully understand the allure of the Pokemon card collecting hobby, I do enjoy Cal's genuine excitement and passion for it.  How can I not support and encourage him to go bigger in this world of Pokemon?  Sure, I told him he needed to add a "Maybe" to the options for me to consider on his birthday wish list; but mentally, I've already circled "Yes I will do it."

A Little Football with the Leatherkids

Like his Mommy, Cal can actually throw a pretty decent spiral with a football.  Sure, it's one of those miniature footballs; but his hand is a third the size of mine, maybe even smaller.  I'm not even sure when he developed this skill, really -- he's played some catch with his dad, I know... perhaps more than I've actually witnessed because it just seems to me that practicing throwing a football requires two people.  I know he'll throw this mini football straight up in the air with a tight spiral and catch it when it comes back down; but his throwing it forward seems to have been limited to what he can do in our living room against the wall or the couch by himself (not much for fear of breaking something, not that there's much to break) or with Dan (maybe more than I think).

Over the past week or two, he has asked me excitedly to play some catch with him in the living room.  I haven't always obliged, but when I have, Ella has usually joined us.  The bit is usually the same -- I throw to Cal, Cal throws to me, I toss to Ella, Ella throws to me... and then we start all over again.

I got home from work just before 7pm tonight.  The Leatherkids were already fed and showered and were looking for some Mommy time... or perhaps some football time with whatever warm-blooded creature might be up for it.  This warm-blooded creature bit.

We assumed our usual positions in the living room.  Cal positioned himself by the door, Ella by the pseudo (folding) dining room table and I by the kitchen.  And we started throwing and catching.

I have to say, Cal's spiral wasn't as tight tonight as it usually is.  I'm not sure why.  He seemed to be more interested in doing trick tosses than throwing a good ball.  Our right-handed Ella actually stepped and threw with her left foot (progress!) most of the time. And me?  I continued to work on my spiral with that miniature, light-as-a-feather, small-as-a-softball football, applying mechanics I learned from watching Ella toss it to me (no kidding -- it's different than throwing an adult-sized football) and just firing it hard to Cal and his bricks for hands (we're working on it).

We were probably five minutes into our tosses to each other when Cal changed things up and lined up next to me.  This was my sign to say, "set, hike!" at which time he'd run his pattern, which was basically a fly, if it could really be called that in our limited space.  He'd run, I'd try to lead him, and he'd drop it.  He'd hint (very nicely) that my passes weren't good; and I'd respond with, "if it touches your hands, you should catch it" (things I've been told many times by my male social club football teammates, not to suggest I dropped very many passes in my day).  Ella also lined up and ran her own version of the fly; and I gently tossed the ball to her when she turned around to catch it.

They took turns at running their patterns for five, maybe ten minutes, sometimes catching, sometimes dropping, usually smiling.  Once, Cal played defense on Ella, which was met with a tearful reception; so that ended abruptly.  She's soft -- another thing to work on once we nail the stepping-with-the-left-foot thing.

When they got tired of their patterns, we assumed our positions for playing catch.  Ella declared that we should count our consecutive catches.  She tossed one to me to start... "1"... then I threw it to Cal, who dropped it, and we started all over, this time all of us focused and committed to not dropping the ball.  Cal to me, me to Ella, Ella to me, me to Cal.  We set our own record at 24 in a row before Cal dropped one, a bullet and not-so-good-spiral thrown by moi.

And at 24 catches in a row, we called it a night... a fun night... a fun, football night with the Leatherkids.  I'll take that over any Pokemon-card talk any day!

Ella the Cat?

I can think of only 10 months of my life when I did not have a cat, so I am very familiar with their behaviors and personalities.  One of those behaviors is the way they curl up next to or on a warm body to sleep at night.  I've spent many a night with a cat nestled snuggly between my legs or a cat's "elbow" leaning up on one of them; and I truly enjoy it. For many years I wouldn't move for fear of disrupting my kitty's sweet sleep; and then I learned that it doesn't matter -- move, and the sweet kitty moves with you.

Strong personality, extrovertedness and dislike for anything with buttons aside, Ella is my mini me.  She, too, enjoys a good night's sleep with cats, specifically our cat, Zoe.  She covets it.  Really, Ella likes doing anything with Zoe; and Zoe seems to feel the same way about Ella. If Zoe darts out the door in the evening (we prefer she stay indoors at night), it's Ella who runs after her and hauls her back in... successfully nearly 100% of the time.  Ella regularly finds Zoe in the house, picks her up and just loves up on her; and Zoe lets her, hanging in Ellas arms like a ragdoll.

Of the three beds in our household, Zoe makes her way to Ella's bed more than the other two, though mine and Dan's is a close second.  So Ella and Zoe have spent many a night together.

Looking back over the past couple of weeks, I'm thinking Zoe may have actually been in our bed most nights or at least a block of nights early in that timeframe. I say "looking back" because Ella has been exhibiting a new, somewhat strange behavior the same couple of weeks, and I'm starting to wonder if it's somehow tied to or influenced by Zoe.  The strange behavior?  Crawling up onto our bed and lying at the base of it (like, by our feet), sometimes curled up like a cat, sometimes stretched straight between the two of us and once even between my legs.  Sometimes Zoe is lying with or on her; other times, Zoe is no where to be found.  And Ella always has Blue Blankie (her treasure) and a stuffed animal lying somewhere next to her.  Short of preening herself and purring, she's acting just like a cat.

I don't always know it when it's happening.  Sometimes, I do and take her back to her room; other times I do and, well, don't take her back to her room because I'm just... so... tired (and maybe it's because I just think she's so darn cute).

Did she "get" this from Zoe?  Is she acting like a cat?  Or does she just simply find it crazy comfy at the base of our bed.  I don't know that we'll ever know for sure, if there's even an explanation for it.

Today's Early-Rising Fun

I got up early this morning to get a workout in before getting ready for and heading to work.  Early was not as early as I had intended when I set my alarm and went to bed last night; but it was early enough to do a half hour's worth of damage, and, really, early enough to do so alone.  It was 5:40am when I got out of bed, and 5:45am by the time I was heading out my bedroom door to get it started.

I had barely stepped through the doorway to my bedroom when I almost bumped into Cal.  Not startled by me at all, he didn't skip a beat and announced, "Mommy, guess what?"

"What?" I asked, showing as much interest as I could muster AT 5:45AM, which was about as much interest as I muster when he talks about his Pokemon cards.

"There are only TWO undefeated teams!" he declared right away.

After spending some brain cycles on figuring out what season we were in (afterall, it was 5:46AM at this point), it clicked... football!  Before I could even remember which teams played last night and who it could've been who fell, he told me, "the Bengals lost!"

News to me!  Cal has a clock radio in his room now and listens to it when he goes to bed and when he wakes up.  Surely, he had just learned of this information minutes before running into me.

"So what are the two undefeated teams, then?" I was fully engaged now and actually knew this answer.  So did Cal.

"The Patriots and the Panthers," he answered, immediately.

"That's right, Baby Bear!"  I'm sure he said something about Odell Beckham, Jr. (somehow every football conversation with Cal involves good ole Odell) after that, and then I turned toward the stairs and announced to him that I'd be getting a workout in.  As I started down the stairs I noticed that Ella was also up and going potty in the bathroom, door wide open.  I continued down the stairs without acknowledging her because I had some working out to do and didn't want to get sucked into a conversation about whatever it is that Ella might want to talk about at 5:47am, not to suggest that there's ever a conscious theme or scope for what she has to say.

I was about halfway through my workout when Cal emerged on the landing of the stairs to the basement.  Now, I don't mind a little company when I work out, but my kids talk a lot... I mean, A LOT... incessantly, really.  Both of them.  About anything and everything. Not only was it way too early to be having any substantial conversation; but I was doing a lower body workout, the kind where you have to count repetitions.  I could not participate in much of a conversation and still count, even to 12.  So I really wasn't sure how welcome Cal's company really was.  And not long after he had made his way to the basement, Ella was there, too, both of them talking up a storm as I squatted and lunged and raised.

Turns out, while distracting and loud, it was fun -- they were entertaining and fully interested in what I was doing.  Cal announced ridiculous things like, "I can lift 100 pounds all the way up to my head," while Ella grabbed a couple of two pounders and did squats herself (after a little instruction from me).  They both hopped on the not-moving treadmill and pretended to run on it... together.  There was no fighting, a lot of talking, and a little too much bravado from my first born.  The best was when Cal came back to earth and said he could lift the 35-pound dumbbell because "Ella's 38 pounds and I can lift her," and proceeded to pick her up off the ground to demonstrate.

So while I entered the morning thinking I'd have some quiet, alone time, I ended up having some quality time with my kids doing what I enjoy and what I enjoy showing them I enjoy.  I've been working a lot of hours lately (thank you, Leatherkids and Leatherdaddy, for understanding), and this has taken away some of my opportunities for quality time and sometimes general patience with them; so to have some unexpected interaction and fun with them in the wee hours of the morning today, I am happy.  I think they were, too.