Merry Christmas!

We had hoped to visit Indiana for Christmas this year, but Mario's factory only shut down for the 25th, so going anywhere was out of the question. Fortunately, Mario's family was able to come and visit us. And fortunately, Mario's brother just bought a new minivan, so both Mario's parents, his aunt, brother, sister, sister-in-law, and 2 nephews could make the 10-hour trip in "relative" comfort. Last March we saw the same amount of people squeeze into Nacho's Pontiac Grand Am . . . yikes!



Mario's family arrived at about 10pm on Christmas Eve and immediately commandeered the kitchen, warming up bacalao, a traditional Mexican Christmas fish dish, and a variety of other food they brought with them, even though Mario spent all evening making pork. Christmas dinner in Mexico is traditionally eaten after the late-night mass on Christmas Eve, so generally around midnight. Ugh. I'd so rather be in bed at midnight. But I can't fight tradition.


As my nieces and nephews get visits from the 3 Kings on January 6th, Santa Claus tends to skip our house. Therefore, only Clara was up at the crack of dawn (which of course had nothing to do with the fact that it was Christmas). Once all eleven of us made our way in and out of our only bathroom, the plan was to attend mass downtown and then come back home and feast on leftovers. However, eleven people don't more through one bathroom very quickly, especially after staying up well past midnight the previous night, so we wandered around downtown until the 6pm mass. The Plaza de Armas has been decked out for Christmas for the past month, and we meandered down to the children's playground in the Alameda so the boys could run off some steam.



Clara decided that she had all the Christmas she could handle, and dozed off on the way to the park.

All in all, it was a great day, and I've loved having Mario's family here!

She's On A Roll!

Yes, I realize she's about 5 months behind schedule, but Clara has finally decided that rolling over may just be a useful skill to master.

And master it, she has!

She also learned this week how to take off her sweater, provided it's a cardigan and the buttons aren't buttoned. I'm so glad she figured this out in the middle of December in a house without heat.

Bananas

The other day Clara was really into playing with her banana while I fed it to her on a spoon. As I was peeling it back, I thought, "hmm . . . what would she do with this?"

Wow.

As you can see, she went to town. I think she wound up eating the entire banana that night. She's pretty into feeding herself now. Unless her papa is around and she can get him to just stick food directly in her mouth, like a baby bird. Or if she wants a drink of water, she'll pick up her sippy cup and just hand it to me instead of bringing it to her own mouth.

But she's getting there. And it's usually pretty entertaining--for me, at least.
she's apparently convinced that she can't do it herself. )

"Umm . . . what's your name?"

I'm changing my name.

Jill is nearly impossible to pronounce/understand in Spanish (unless the person I'm talking to has an excellent command of English). First of all, the letter J in Spanish is pronounced like an English H. The sound for the English short "i" doesn't exist at all, and the double l is pronounced like a y.

"Como se llama?"

"Jill."

"Como?"

"Jill."

"Uhh . . . [very long pause] . . . Jeee?"

"That's it!" I reward ANY attempt at pronouncing my name with a huge smile and a confidence-boosting, "Yes! Exactly! That's me!"

I even fear that the non-pronounceability of my name has costed me a friend. Way back in March, I met a woman at the park who had just moved to Saltillo that week, didn't know anyone apart from her husband and daughter (who is just 4 months older than mine), and seemed to be just as excited to meet me as I was to meet her. We exchanged phone numbers with promises to call each other the following week.

I tried to call her. But her number was a cell phone. All my past experiences with cell phones in Mexico has taught me that 044 or 045 needs to be dialed before the number. But I wasn't having any luck getting through to Marisela. Finally, after a month of trying her without any success, I just dialed her number like it was a regular long-distance number. Bingo. I left a message. But was she still using that cell phone with her number from Tampico?

She may have tried to call me. But if she was unsure about how to pronounce my name, would she have called? I can only imagine having a piece of paper with a super-short unpronouncable name on it. "Yeah, hi. I'm calling for . . . uhh . . . are you that woman I met in the park the other day?"

Had it been me, I would have waited to receive the call.

Which never happened. Boo.

During my first days at NPH, I hung out with the chicas quite a bit and remember their initial confusion about how to say my name. One day, we were watching young Jim Hawkins' adventures on Treasure Planet. Lupita Munoz turned to me with a light in her eyes, indicative that something just "clicked" for her. "Jim!" she exclaimed, connecting my name to that of Mr. Hawkins'. Oh, so close. But I'll take what I can get.

After way too long, I wised up. When leaving my name at stores to place an order, I am now Michelle. The cashiers at least understand it, despite the fact that my name is stored in the Farmacia Guadalajara's computer as MICHEL DUULAS. When introducing myself at my Bible study, I offered the name Michelle first, but siting that it was my middle name.

"What's your first name?"

They decided they could handle Jill. But now, three months after meeting these women, Jill has somehow morphed into Gina.

I'll take it.