Merry Christmas

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Father George Stewart, a priest from Saint Brendan's Church in the Bronx, once told us that one of his biggest pet peeves was Christmas cards that didn't mention Christmas in them.  As a Christian pastor he wanted Christians to make sure their cards were about the reason for the season - Christ.

There was no Happy Holidays or Season's Greeting for Fr. Stewart.  There was only Merry Christmas.  And I'm sure you would get extra points from him if your card had a picture of the baby Jesus on it. 

He has a point, what in the world does Season's Greetings mean anyway?  So, when we set out to make our Christmas card, we made sure it said Merry Christmas and arranged it so that the words made a cross on it.  The baby Jesus does not make an appearance on our card but you do.  Your mom and I chose to make our Christmas card double as your birth announcement.  What would Fr. Stewart say?

Merry Christmas!


Eternally Yours,

Tu papa

boys club

Dear Chicken Nugget,

As you grow you slowly become a little more independent. Just slightly.  You still need us for a lot, like getting around, diaper changes, and food.  Your mom does a great job of taking care of you for most of the day and night and you show her the love she deserves.

Sometimes when you catch a glimpse of your mom it's like you suddenly saw your favorite celebrity.  Your smile gets wider than your face and your arms wave electrically towards her in the hopes she'll just shake your hand or look your way.  Luckily, she does more than that and blows you kisses or nuzzles up to your cheek.

You love it.  You love her.

So, occasionally, on the days you'll allow it, I steal you away for what I call "boys club."

In "boys club" we stare into each others eyes, make faces at each other, or you play with your toys while I cuddle up next to you.  I love "boys club" because it allows us to have exclusive father-son bonding time.

Your mom isn't thrilled about being left out but she gets so much time during the day with you, that I think it's fair.  Still, you and I had a meeting the other day on your playmat and decided that your mom can be an honorary member of "boys club."

For now.

I love her and you love her but we need our "boys club" time to do boy things - like blowing bubbles and spitting and laughing when you fart.  I'm sure your mom doesn't mind too much.



Eternally yours,

Tu papa

asthma

Dear Chicken Nugget,

I went out for another run tonight.  The wind did indeed bring friends to try and slow me down, freezing temperature was on hand to show me a good time and snow made an appearance.

As I took deep breaths of the crisp cold air, I remembered that for almost half of my life I couldn't do what I was doing at that moment.

When I was three years old I was diagnosed with asthma.  I had asthma that was triggered by allergies, cold, and exercise.  I had to get steroid shots once a month and would use an inhaler whenever necessary; as I remember it, I used it often.

And then there were the Emergency Room visits.  I remember being taken to the ER on many occasions due to a severe asthma attack.  It always started with some coughing, then some wheezing in my lungs, and slowly I felt as if my lungs thickened to the point of only being able to allow a tiny bit of air in at a time.

I would take a couple of puffs of my inhaler and wait.  I would try to steady my breathing.  My mom would take breaths with me and massage my back.  Sometimes it would go away.  Sometimes I ended up in the ER.

Once, sometime in the fifth grade, I had an asthma attack in the morning.  It just so happened that it was the morning of the City Wide Math Test.  My mom asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital.  I told her I wanted to go to school to take my test.  So, she took me to school and waited in the Main Office for me while I went to take the test.  I don't remember how long those tests took back in the day but it felt like five minutes.  My guess is I rushed through it just to be able to get out of there.

My mom immediately hauled me off to the ER where they determined I was having such a bad attack and lacking so much oxygen that they admitted me to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit.  I was frightened.

The staff was incredibly friendly but I was surrounded by kids of all ages hooked up to machines in different stages of serious illness.  There was a constant hum of machines, puffing of ventilators, and beeps from heart monitors.  I had nightmares almost every night I was there.  Five nights total.

Honestly, I never thought the asthma would go away.  We had a next door neighbor who was in her 50s or 60s who was always being taken to the hospital with asthma attacks.  That always scared me.

At the age of 14, as a freshman in high school, I had a pretty bad asthma attack that landed me in yet another ER overnight.  And then, it went away.

For the last 16 years I have not had a single asthma attack, thank God. I still keep an inhaler around just in case I ever feel the symptoms of an attack.  So far I've only had to use it about once a year and only for very mild symptoms.

When I first started to run six years ago and it got close to winter, I was scared of going out.  My first marathon was in 22 degree weather but I ended up taking two months off after that -- too scared to go back out in the cold.  When I did finally run in the cold I felt my chest tightening.  But, slowly, the more I did it and the better prepared I was (wearing the right gear also helps), it became easier.

Tonight, as I ran in windy, snowy 28 degree weather, I thought about how a younger version of me could never do what I was doing.  I hope that it's gone for good.  And, I hope that your lungs are stronger than mine. 

Judging by the volume of your cries, so far so good.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

when the wind tells you to stop...

Dear Chicken Nugget,

A couple of months ago I wrote about how I changed my diet for you.  And, for the most part, it's true.

Unfortunately the holidays came.  It's hard to eat a low fat plant-based diet when there's a beautiful, juicy turkey inviting you to enjoy it.  Combine holiday eating with a lack of exercise and it turns out my cholesterol is high again.

Having a family history of heart disease, high blood pressure, and diabetes, a high cholesterol worries me.  Since finding out a couple of days ago, I've recommitted to a low fat plant-based diet.

And, just as importantly, I've created a set of fitness goals to accompany the diet.  I've signed up for three small races for early 2011 to help get me back on track.

So, today I went out for a run.  Man, was it hard!

A couple of months ago I started coaching a Young Runners Club at my school.  I'm leading fifteen students in kindergarten through second grade through stretches, relay racing games, and some slow and steady running that amounts to no more than a mile a day.  I'm running about a mile a day! Just one!

This, from a guy who has run two marathons (26.2 miles)!

I decided that today was going to be the day that I ran two miles.  In the morning there was a strong hard rain that immediately made my decision easy.  Can't run.  But then, as if daring me to go out, the rain stopped mid-afternoon.  I looked out the window and not a drop was falling.  I looked for signs of wind, perhaps looking for another excuse, and there were none.

So, I told your mom that I was going for a run.  She, always super supportive of my health, told me to go ahead.  Then, it took me thirty minutes to get out of the house.  Not that there was anything pressing keeping me, I just kept finding something else to do.

When I finally stepped outside, I felt great.  My legs were moving, my breathing was good, and the weather seemed to cooperate.

As I ran towards Astoria Park I thought about how easy it felt.  Then I came upon a downed tree.  It looked like it had been chopped down and there were massive pieces of trunk laying on the side walk.  I slowed to a walk trying to figure out a way around it.  Not a hard obstacle to overcome but it was the beginning of the doubts.

After walking around the tree and starting back up I started feeling the wind kick up again.  Not only was the wind picking up, it was blowing right at me.  I wanted to stop.  The wind was strong.  Just then an older gentleman, probably in his 60s, ran by me. I kept running.

As I approached the one mile mark I thought about walking back home.  But, no.  Couldn't.  That wouldn't be enough.  So, I turned back at the one mile point, still running.

Making my way back home it suddenly started raining again.  There was the doubt again.  Maybe I should hop on a bus.  Then a strong gust of wind blew in my direction.  I swear the wind was telling me to stop.  For a second, I did.  I stopped.

I was about half a mile away from home and I thought, well, a mile and a half is still more than you've done in a while.  I looked at the time and realized that we had guests coming over in about thirty minutes.  I had to run home if I stood any chance at showering before the guests arrived.

I started running again.  The rain gave up but the wind didn't.  The wind was adamant about me stopping.  I almost listened to it.  But, I didn't.  I kept thinking about you, your mom, and my health, and I kept running.  By the time I rounded the corner to our block I was running pretty fast.  And I was tired.  It's hard to run against the wind.  The run was hard.

As if mocking me one last time, a breeze blew the outside door into my ankles as I stepped into the house.  &*^%!!  The wind is now my nemesis.  I'm sure it'll try to get to me again.  And, maybe it'll bring its friends freezing rain and blizzard along.  I've met those two before and I've still run through them. I can do it.

I ran two miles today, Nugget.  Two.  That's all.  I had every excuse in my head to stop.  But, that's all it was: in my head.  There are always days that are going to be too cold, too hot, too windy, too busy, and too tired.  All these excuses are going to be whispering in my ear to not go out for a run or just to stop.

But for every excuse, there's good reason to keep going: my health.

On the last line of my RoadID it says, "I run to add another day."  Really, I run to run to add another day to my life AND to add life to my days. 


Step one: Run!

Step two: Ignore the &*^%!! wind.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

happy three months!

Dear Chicken Nugget,

You are three months old today!

We are so blessed to have you with us and are amazed on a daily basis that we were chosen to be your parents.

You are now making pretty big leaps developmentally:
- you are actively reaching out and grabbing at toys
- you are constantly playing with your hands and beginning to suck your thumb
- you are wanting to be held in a standing position more each day (strong core and head control)
-you are playing for longer periods of time
-you are "talking," making bubbles, and spitting.  Yes, spitting.  It's kind of funny.
- you are starting to roll over and startling yourself in the process
- and you are holding your head pretty darn high during belly time

 We actually think you're pretty brilliant.  And handsome.  I think you're starting to look like your mom more each day.  You're a lucky kid.

Eternally yours,

Tu papa

the blankie your great grandma made you

Dear Chicken Nugget,


As you get older, day by day, we've been noticing that you seem to like some objects more than others.  And, with your new ability to grab things, you are loving stuff that's tiny-hand friendly.

One of those objects you adore is great grandma's blankie.

It's colorful (white, blue, purple, pink, yellow) and it's got holes.  Holes!  You love those holes because it allows you to grab at it and bring it to your face and mouth.


Your great grandma Lorene made it just for you before you were born.  We didn't know if we were having a boy or a girl so she added pink and blue, just in case.


By the way, the bib you're wearing in the photo above is awesome.  Over the last couple of weeks you've become a drool-monster and it's our way of keeping your clothes dry.

You should thank great grandma Lorene for making you this wonderful blankie and all our friends and relatives who have bought you great toys and clothes for you to grab and drool over.




Yours eternally,


Tu papa

Vivaporu: Grandpa was right!

Dear Chicken Nugget,

I am sick right now - just one of those Fall/Winter colds that doesn't seem to go away. 

A few days ago, as I opened my medicine cabinet for some sort of relief I saw an old bottle of Vicks Vapor Rub.

I remembered the greasiness and the smell from my sickly days as a child when my mom would rub Vivaporu (that's what latinos call it) all over my chest and sometimes even wipe some on my nose.  It's powerful stuff and clears up your airways pretty quickly and I remember the smell lingering on my skin and clothes for days.

So, with that memory, I took some Vivaporu out of the little jar and rubbed it all over my chest.  Immediately, I felt better!  Of course, four days later I'm still dealing with this cold so Vivaporu does not necessarily "cure" you but it does make you feel better.  I guarantee it.

It also makes me smell like my grandpa, your great grandpa, Bolivar Santiago.  My grandpa was a firm believer that Vivaporu could cure absolutely anything.  Cough? Vivaporu!  Stuffy nose?  Vivaporu!  Sore muscles?  Vivaporu!  Arthritis?  Vivaporu!  Bad cut or open wound? Vivaporu!  Toe fungus? Belly ache?  Headache? Hemorrhoids?  Oh yes, Vivaporu!

I remember my grandpa having little bottle of Vivaporu on his nightstand, in his chest of drawers, and sometimes, in a plastic bag that he used to carry all his important papers. 

I have to admit, I do feel better rubbing on the Vivaporu, even if it hasn't cured me.  I'll make sure that when you're old enough, you'll get to experience the magic of Vick's Vapor Rub.  And maybe some day, when we both have a cold, we'll both walk around with greasy, mentholy chests and smelling like Great Grandpa.

Eternally yours,

Tu papa

Giving up Facebook for Advent. Sort of.

Dear Chicken Nugget,

As I write there are 500 million people in the world that are using something called Facebook.  It's a social network website that allows users to connect with one another around world.  It's also a great time-suck.

It's been absolutely wonderful to connect to old classmates that I lost touch with, be able to communicate with relatives in Ecuador, and let people know that something funny just happened.

But, checking in on others can take up time - especially if you end up checking in twice a day like I usually do.

So inspired by friends and family, I'm giving up Facebook for Advent.  Sort of.

First, your great uncle Barry, a pastor in Texarkana, TX, posted on a blog that we should try to read the books of the Bible in order.  I've already done that twice before and I've learned so much each time so I figured that's something I should do some day soon.

Then a friend from my running club, you may remember him as the guy in the chicken costume on Marathon Sunday, posted that he was going to give up Facebook for the rest of 2010; just as a challenge to himself.

Finally, as I was reading up on Advent I learned that people used to treat Advent much like they did Lent - they would fast to prepare for the birth of Jesus.  Although I'm not going to fast this Advent, I decided I could instead refrain from Facebook somehow.

So the end result is this:

I will read the books of the Bible in order and only check in on Facebook when I complete a full book of the Bible.  

Something you'll learn about me is that I set up challenges for myself just to see if I have the willpower to do them (like marathons, for example).  I find it's good practice to challenge yourself this way; it lets you know that you are stronger than you think you are.

Of course, I thought my Advent challenge was going to be easier.  Somehow I forgot that the first time I read the Bible straight through it took me two months.  Oh, and I also forgot to calculate the number of times I would be interrupted in my reading by you, Nugget.

had we picked a name out of Genesis you might have been named Gether or Nimrod

Not that I'm complaining.  Reading it in smaller bits has allowed me to meditate on smaller events.  But still, after Day 2 I'm on page 20 of 1,034 and just halfway done with Genesis.

So, I don't think I'm anywhere near on pace to complete the Bible by Christmas or New Year's Day for that matter.  No, this challenge might take me straight into Lent.  And by the time I get there, since it's Lent, I might as well set up a new challenge...


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

a mini High School reunion

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Today we got together with some of my old High School buddies.  Lots has changed!

Leonid was one of the first people I met in the seventh grade.

the restaurant was warm so we let you show off your chest hair

But now Leonid is a doctor and has his own baby!

Leonid and his six-month old boy Finny

You loved hanging out with my old high school friends and made sure everyone knew to hold you out so you could be a part of the conversation.

Meryl, Nugget, Adam, & Tom

Meryl was one of the first people I met in High School and is now a Veterinarian.  Adam, like Leo, went to Junior High and High School with me and is now a lawyer in Washington, DC for the US government.  And Tom is an old friend from High School who uses his degree in Finance to help people navigate the insurance world and does some acting on the side.

Beth holding a sleepy Nugget

Our friend Beth was a friend of a friend in high school and didn't technically go to high school with us but no one really remembers that.  She hung out with us so often we pretty much thought she went to school with us.  Beth was an animal behaviorist and now studies human behavior for marketing. 

We had a really good time catching up with one another, trading baby stories, and making plans to get together again.

I hope that when you get to high school you get a chance to make friends with a bunch like mine.  We spent a lot of time with one another, through the ups and downs that are a sure part of teenage life, but my memories of them are overwhelmed with laughter. 

We had a good time and continue to do so.

Eternally yours,

Tu papa

Happy First Thanksgiving!

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Today we celebrated your first Thanksgiving.  There is so much to be thankful for!

I give thanks to God for all He provides - family, friends, health, career - but this year I am especially grateful for the gift of you.  Pastor Paul at our church likes to tell new parents that their babies are not theirs but on loan from God.  We are all God's children and parents are chosen to help raise one of God's children.  No pressure, he likes to add.

Well, we're so eternally grateful for the gift of you and so is your entire family.  This year we went to your Grandma Betty's home to celebrate Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving in an Ecuadorian household is a little different from Thanksgiving in your typical American home, but some things are still the same: turkey, cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, and dessert.  But, there's also the Ecuadorian staples: white rice, Ecuadorian stuffing, and Russian salad (I know, I said Ecuadorian, but that's what they call it).

But, of course, the highlight of Thanksgiving this year was you!  The family enjoyed playing with you, dancing with you, singing to you, and cuddling with you.

You seemed to love the attention and were in awe of the turkey...

...then you tried to make a grab for it...

... but you were caught red-handed.

Overall it was a great Thanksgiving.  We're already looking forward to next year when you can actually take a bite out of that turkey leg.


Until then, eternally yours,

Tu papa

the sins of your parents

Dear Chicken Nugget,

It's been 12 days since my last letter and you've grown so much.  You've been laughing and playing and trying to grab hanging toys.  You've discovered your hands and are constantly playing with them.

I haven't been able to sit down and write much because of work-related activities.  I love what I do but sometimes it takes up a lot of mental energy; not the kids, the adults - more on that another day.

But, today I want to apologize in advance for the fashion sins of your parents.  Your mom and I are pretty laid back people and our philosophy on dressing you as been just as relaxed.  The way we figure it, babies don't care what they look like.  Right?

Well, in case you do some day and it seems you just can't get it right, it's probably our fault.

This is what happens when papi dresses you...

your mom would like to point out the overall shorts & yellow socks

This is what happens when mommy tries to fix it...

I'm just going to point out that you've got polka dots on your white pants

It's obvious that your mom and I differ in opinion on what you should wear.  I don't think either of us are too far off the mark but I also don't think we're cultivating any form of good fashion sense. 

Luckily, I do think you're too young to care at this point.  Someday you'll care.  Until then, God help you.


Eternally yours,

Tu papi

the NYC Marathon and me

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Ever since I was little I've been a fan of the NYC Marathon.  My Aunt Bella and I would wake up on Marathon Sunday and start watching the coverage on TV and start making fake bets on who would win that year.

For a few years we lived on Fourth Avenue in Brooklyn, right along the route.  We'd watch the elite runners approach on TV and then hit the street to watch and cheer them on live.  Then, as the morning progressed and a speedy few became a thundering thousand, I'd go out there to high five as many runners as we could. 

I started dreaming of running the NYC Marathon in my early 20s, before I could even run a mile, but haven't had my chance yet.  Lack of luck with the entry lottery and injury has prevented me from joining the 40+ thousand people running the NYC Marathon every year.   

sleepy Nugget on his way to cheer

 Although I've run marathons in New Jersey and Maryland, the dream of running the NYC Marathon is still alive and thriving.  This year, at just 2 months old, we took you to Manhattan to cheer for the thousands of runners in the Marathon.  You slept through all the noise but I was inspired by it.

little Nugget sleeps in the baby carrier while dad cheers along with a teammate - yes, a chicken

Seeing all those people enjoying my city and pushing themselves to the limit makes me want to get out there and join them.  As they say in sports, especially when you're a Mets fan like me, "There's always next year"  . . . and the year after that.

If weather permits, I can't imagine a better motivator than seeing you and your mom cheering me on.  Then maybe, some day, we'll run a marathon together.  


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

the sleep routine

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Today you are two months old!  It's been incredible having you in our lives and we look forward to so much more time with you.

You're growing physically and are becoming more aware by the hour.  You love hearing the vowels in Spanish and laugh when I howl like a wolf.

loving listening to the vowels in Spanish

And, you love it when your dad puts you to sleep.  You've been a really good sleeper, by the way.  When you're tired you'll fall asleep in a baby carrier, in the swing, on the changing table, and while feeding.  You've actually been sleeping through most of the night - waking up to eat once or twice but falling immediately back to sleep when done.

But late evening when you hit that over-tired point your mom and I go into the sleep routine.  While she goes off to get ready for bed, I get you ready for bed.  What started as an hour long routine is now usually done in 15-20 minutes.   It involves some walking, some white noise provided by the kitchen fan, and even some singing.

Now, while I won't promote my singing in any way, it seems that it helps you go to sleep.  I have two theories for this: my droning monotone has a hypnotic effect or you essentially give up because sleep is the fastest way to get out of hearing me sing.

So far I've used a number of songs to help lull you to sleep (in no particular order):

How's It Going To Be by Third Eye Blind
Lean On Me by Bill Withers
Stand By Me by Ben E. King
The Way You Look Tonight by Frank Sinatra
Motorcycle Drive By by Third Eye Blind
Amazing Grace by John Newton
Hound Dog by Elvis Presley
That's Life by Frank Sinatra
Donna by Ritchie Valens

Tonight, the song that made you pass out was Fly Me To The Moon by Frank Sinatra.

Somehow these songs work.  Then again, considering my monotone voice, they might all just sound the same and I'm simply boring you to sleep.  In any case, it works.

When it comes time for you to learn to sing I'm definitely handing the reigns over to your mom.  She comes from a clan of musicians and singers.

In the meantime, I'll continue to help you fall asleep for the night.  It's my pleasure to sing my baby boy to sleep.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

When Dad Blog Babies Meet

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Today you are eight weeks old!  And, though your weight has leveled off at around 11-12 pounds, you still seem to be growing every day.  Recently you've been more alert, really curious about the world around you, and making wonderful cooing sounds.

Some friends from Birthing Class came over to meet you tonight.  Kevin and Reba had their baby girl Rosalie just three days before you arrived.  Kevin is actually documenting Rosalie's early days on NewAstoriaDad.  So, tonight was a sort of meeting of the blog babies.

Kevin holding Chicken Nugget and Reba holding Rosalie

Rosalie is very cute, with hints of strawberry blond hair, and bright blue eyes.  The two of you, however, didn't spend much time with each other - you were too busy showing Kevin and Reba what a fussy baby boy looks like and Rosalie was busy showing us what a peaceful baby girl is like.

We discussed, among other things, boy energy versus girl energy.  So far, every little baby girl we've met is always so calm and relaxed.

your mom was amazed at how mellow Rosalie was

Not our Nugget!  Our little baby boy has boy energy and constantly wants to be entertained and kept moving.  That is, of course, until Reba held you...  then you chilled out and eventually fell asleep in her arms.

Santiago and Reba

Which makes me wonder if you have a thing for blonds.  Just last week our friend Emily dropped by to say hello and you were as happy as can be.

Santi likes blonds

Hmmm.  I think I'm on to something.

Your secret is safe with me, buddy. 


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

Your first Halloween

Dear Chicken Nugget,


Your cousin Timothy and your aunt Sara came to visit from Madison, Wisconsin and meet you for the first time.  They were here for a few days, helped a ton by making us some wonderful meals, and gave us a glimpse of what our lives would be like with two babies.

chaos!

The absolute best part was celebrating Halloween.  Your cousin Timothy dressed up as Tigger and played the part really well.

Timothy as Tigger.

You were Superman for your first Halloween.  Your mom and I decided to milk your costume as much as possible.  We've had you wear your costume at least three days now and may continue to put you in it a few more days. 

Dad as Clark Kent and Chicken Nugget as Superman.

It was wonderful having your Aunt Sara and Cousin Timothy here with us.  We miss them already.  But, the fun continues.  Guess what you're wearing to church...

Oh yes

Eternally yours,

Tu papa

sometimes bad things happen to good people

Dear Chicken Nugget,

I learned earlier this week of the passing of an old acquaintance who worked on a political campaign with me over nine years ago.

She was 38, married, had two kids, ages 6 and 3, and healthy.  She had a stroke and the doctors were unable to save her.  It has to be the saddest story I have heard in a while.

It's been quite some time, but I remember her having a great, positive personality.  She and her husband were wonderful activists, fighting on behalf of the rights of immigrant workers who were exploited in sweatshops.

Whenever I hear of a tragic story like this, it reminds me that we have very little time here on Earth and every minute is a true blessing.  I don't know why bad things happen to good people.  It's, seemingly, one of the most unfair aspects of human life.

About ten years ago I read a book called When Bad Things Happen to Good People by Rabbi Harold Kushner.  It was recommended to me by Rabbi Andrew Bachman, who, at the time, was director of the NYU Center for Jewish Student Life.

Rabbi Kushner does a great job examining the possibilities and reminds us that regardless of the tragedy or disaster, God is with us if we only look and listen.  The lines that have probably stuck with me the most are from the last few pages:

"Our responding to life's unfairness with sympathy and with righteous indignation, God's compassion and God's anger working through us, may be the surest proof of all of God's reality." (142)

"Religion alone can affirm the afflicted person's sense of self-worth. Science can describe what has happened to a person; only religion can call it a tragedy. Only the voice of religion, when it frees itself from the need to defend and justify God for all that happens, can say to the afflicted person, 'You are a good person, and you deserve better. Let me come and sit with you so that you will know that you are not alone.'" (143)

I'm sure folks will disagree with this assessment of science and religion.  But, I find Rabbi Kushner's words to ring true.  I see God in the world around me; not just the physical world, but also in human interaction.  I see God's action in the priest who consoles a mourner, in the friend lending a shoulder to cry on, in the community offering generous support to a family who lost their home, and in the restaurant owner who offers a bowl of soup to a homeless man on a chilly day.

God is indeed there.  But, since we do have such little time on this Earth, I have a list of everyday actions for you:

1) Tell your mom that you love her every time you talk to her.
2) Your dad too.
3) Actually, tell anyone and everyone you love that you love them as often as possible.
4) When you hug someone, hug as if you haven't seen them in years.
5) If there's an opportunity to do something nice for someone, do it.
6) If you feel the urge to dance, then dance; regardless of when or where.
7) Don't take yourself too seriously.  God loves you, yes, but He also wants you to lighten up and enjoy life.
8) Speaking of enjoying life, smile!
9) God gave us family and friends.  Remember them.
10) Give thanks every day for what you've been given.

I don't know how much time any of us has here on Earth.  But, I do know that I love you and your mom very much.  And I will always love you.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

a song for you

Dear Chicken Nugget,

I found myself singing a song to you yesterday as I carried you around the apartment and realized that it's something that's been stuck in my head for a few days.

The song has no title, though it's yours.  Your mom started singing it to you when you were in the belly.  She made up the lyrics and melody herself.

The chorus says something like:

Oh you're my baby boo,
And I love you.
I'm gonna love you forever,
Oh you're my baby boo,
And I love you.
I'm gonna love you forever.

At some point I'd like to record her singing it to you. 

It reminds me of a song I love by a band that no longer exists.  Shea was recorded, written, and performed by a band called Cecilia.  They were a family band made up of a mom, dad, son, two daughters and a bass player.  I met them for the first time in Washington Square Park while on a lunch break in college.  Their sound was refreshing and their lyrics were inspiring.

Cecilia the band

When I became a teacher, I would go to their gigs every Friday night, wherever they were playing.  It was my way of de-stressing after a long week.  At one of their gigs, your Uncle Bob and I ended up befriending the fiancee of the lead guitarist/son in the family.  It turns out her daughter, Shea, was the little girl they were singing about in the song.  She was a beautiful little four year old at the time and I kept thinking, how cool to have a song written about you?  It immortalizes you.



Well, when the bassist left, who, by the way, is currently engaged to my friend Cora, the band became The Veltz Family.  They played on and wrote more beautiful music but eventually went their separate ways to work on individual projects.

Your mom, our friend Javiera, and I went to see one of the daughters of the family, Allison, play in Manhattan when your mom was eight months pregnant with you.  The voice and style are still there.  The music lives on.  And, for one night, I was transported back in time.

Allison Veltz

It's been years now.  The beautiful little blond girl from the song Shea is now 12 and going to school dances and I am now a parent singing to my very own child. 

Perhaps one day, when we're feeling creative, we'll work on expanding the lyrics to your song, working on the melody, and actually turning it into a full-length song.  It probably won't even come close to what Cecilia was able to put together back in the day, but at least you'll be able to say, like Shea, that you have your own song.

Eternally yours,


Tu papa

my a-ha moment with God

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Just last week I started teaching Young Family Sunday School at church.  Since our population of children is small and ages range from six weeks old to 10 years old, we decided to teach both the child and the parents together.  It's challenging but I pray that we're successful in growing the faith life of families.

As a starting point I had everyone draw on paper what God was to them.  There were pictures of crosses, hearts, train tracks (a three year old drew that one), and a mountain (that was mine).

When it was my turn to explain my drawing I told everyone about my "a-ha" moment with God:

As a child I went to church with my family but sometime around the age of 13 science became my basis for the world.  Everything in the world could be explained through science.

Then, the summer after my Freshman year of college, some old high school friends and I went white water rafting in North Creek, NY.  We drove up there in a ridiculous storm that gave drivers inches of visibility and we crammed eight college kids into a motel room.

The rafting itself was lots of fun with plenty of bumps and people flying out of the boat.  At the end of the trip down the river we came to this calm place where, after some hard paddling work, we could lay back and enjoy the view.

Hudson River, North Creek, NY, photographed by D.R. March

As we floated down the river I took in the amazing view around us: the tall trees, mountains, birds circling overhead, and friends smiling ear to ear.

Suddenly I had my "a-ha" moment.  Somehow all of this, the people, the trees, the mountains, were all there for a reason.  And the reason was . . . God?  It wasn't easy to change my "scientific" rational mind to a God-based reality, but it happened.  And, it started happening in that moment.

After that experience I found myself seeking out the Newman Club at NYU (the undergraduate Catholic club) and quickly became active in the Catholic Center at NYU.  And now, eleven years later, I'm teaching Young Family Sunday School.

It's hard to explain what I saw and felt that day.  But, I hope that someday you'll be able to see a mountain and see God the way I did.

Eternally yours,

Tu papa

you have me wordless you chubness monster!

Dear Chicken Nugget,

I have to admit that I've gotten very little work done at home since you joined us almost seven weeks ago.

I'll start things - like lesson planning, writing letters, reading articles - and not finish them until 12 hours later.  Something that could take me 30 minutes will take a total of 12 hours from start to finish.

For one thing, you're requiring a lot of attention.  A lot.  I am more than happy to pay close attention to you.  I would much rather stare at you than have to figure out how make the texture of a rock exciting to a second grader.

Most of the attention you require is based around food.  You've continued to eat like a champ and put on weight like a sumo wrestler.  At 6 1/2 weeks we weighted you at 12lbs.  That's double your birth weight in less than seven weeks!  Luckily your mom is the provider of the food but that doesn't mean I'm jobless.  While momma takes care of you, I have to take care of the momma.

Even when you're not demanding attention I find myself struggling to find the words I need to complete my work.  Instead, I end up in wordless awe of the miracle that is you.  No words.  Just thoughts of you.

Speaking of which, I'm going to go stare at you while you sleep.

Te quiero siempre,

Tu papa

5 weeks old!

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Today you turned five weeks old!

We took you to the pediatrician for your "one-month" visit.  We found out you now weigh 9lbs 13oz, up from 5lbs 15oz at birth.  Looks like all that eating is paying off.

The nurse had to do the measurements two to three times because she thought she was measuring wrong, but it turns out you are growing that fast.

It's great news because it means that all the work you and your mom are doing is paying off.  And you're chubby and cute...

Eternally yours,

Tu papa

badass grizzly warriors of Astoria

Dear Chicken Nugget,

This afternoon when I came home from work I found your mom on the couch, holding you, and looking more tired than I've ever seen her.  She communicated in a series of twitches and grunts that she was tired, hadn't napped at all today, and needed sleep now.

I've been to Yellowstone National Park a couple of times and have read the manuals on what to do when you encounter a grizzly bear.  Basically, you assess the situation and your surroundings, you calmly and slowly back away, and you keep your pepper spray ready to shoot.

That's how I treated this encounter.  I swooped you up, placed you in the Ergo carrier, and slowly backed out of the room.  I took you for a nice long walk so that the momma bear could get her nap.

As we walked down the streets of Astoria, you sleeping soundly at my chest, I noticed another gentleman carrying his baby in a carrier.  As he walked by he smiled and nodded.  I nodded back.  Then, a couple of blocks later, another guy with an Ergo walked by, baby at his chest, and dry cleaning folded over one arm.  In the hour and forty minutes that you and I spent zig-zagging our way through the neighborhood I counted five guys carrying their babies.

But, here's the interesting part: they were carrying their babies alone.  Somehow, between 5:25pm and 7:05pm six guys from the same neighborhood found themselves carrying their babies in some sort of baby carrier with no partner in sight.

It made me wonder if they too had encountered a sleep-deprived momma bear back in the home cave.  This is going to sound corny, but every time I passed one of those guys there was a nod or wave exchanged.  It's like we belonged to a club that the rest of the neighborhood wasn't cool enough to know about.

Early on in my running career when I was stupidly starting to train for my first marathon, I experienced something similar.  When running in New York City you often end up running by another runner.  This is no big deal.  It happens many times during a run.  Sometimes you make eye contact and acknowledge one another and sometimes they run by as if you barely exist.  It's New York, that's just how it is.

But, on one cold, rainy Fall day I had to go out for a long run and the weather wasn't supposed to get any better; I either did my long run in the rain or I waited a day and ran my long run in the rain.  So, I suited up and got myself going.  As I ran that day something special started to happen.  Fools Folks running by, and there were few that day, actually waved and called out a "hey!" or "hello."  It's as if we belonged to some ridiculous cold rain running club.  It made me feel a little badass.

Of course, this...

...doesn't look badass, Nugget.  But it is.

What looks like just a regular guy carrying his baby around the neighborhood is actually a warrior who probably managed to narrowly escape the charge of a momma grizzly.

At least, that's how I felt.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa



[PS - Readers of Dear Chicken Nugget may have noticed an ad for BabyEtte on the side bar.  We love their products!  Although I mentioned carrying Nugget in the Ergo today, we also have a wrap and a sling from BabyEtte and we love wearing our little Nugget around the house and 'hood.  They're a small family-owned business and we highly recommend them for your baby-wearing needs.]

Happy One Month!

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Today you turn one month old in the outside world.  Happy Month Day!

You are growing so fast!  It's incredible to think that just one month ago we were meeting you for the first time. You were such a skinny, sleepy little Nugget then and now you're this chubby, grunting little wide-awake guy.  Except for in this picture:

Some of our family showed up to celebrate your month among us.  You slept through the entire event.  Your cousin Luanha, who is ten months old, came by to meet you for the first time.  She was one of your mom's first doula babies.  It was fun seeing you together for the first time and wondering what the future holds for you both.

We've had a wonderful first month with you, Nugget.  And, God willing, we look forward to another fifteen hundred months with you.

Eternally yours,

Tu papa

I changed my diet for you

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Heart disease runs in our family, at least my side.  I've been diagnosed with a high cholesterol since childhood and it reached its peak in adulthood.  The problem, besides my own body's inability to control its cholesterol production, is diet.

Your Grandma Betty is an awesome cook as you will someday discover.  But, the Ecuadorian diet typically consists of white rice, a meat, and some sort of delicious sauce (made of corn, plantain, or oils and spices.)  It's delicious stuff and will always taste like home to me.  But it lacks a variety of vegetables and includes too much white starch and animal fat.  Tasty, but not great for a family that is prone to diabetes and heart disease.

I've been battling with high cholesterol for at least eight years.  As a young bachelor, straight out of college, and starting to teach, I was told by the doctor that I had a high cholesterol.  High enough that I had to go on medication or do something about it - like diet and exercise.  First I tried diet, which worked somewhat.  Then I tried exercise, which started my life as a runner, and that helped some.  But, failing to combine the diet and exercise together made the cholesterol stay high.

It all reached its epic peak in January 2010 when I went in for a routine checkup at the doctor's office.  He was a new doctor and hearing about my family's history of heart disease he ran the usual tests.  The results were disastrous.

My cholesterol was high and, even worse, there were several other indicators in the blood work that showed that I was at high risk for a heart attack.  There I was, 29 years old, having just found out that your mom was pregnant with you and being told that if I was 55 years old I'd be in serious, even deadly, trouble.

I immediately got to work doing research on cholesterol, diet, exercise, and magic potions; anything to ensure that I got my cholesterol down and lived a healthy life for you and your mom.  I ended up finding a book called Prevent and Reverse Heart Disease by Dr. Caldwell Esselstyn.  In it he describes what the body does when you eat a diet high in fats and animal products.  Essentially, you get heart disease.  Although most doctors recommend that your cholesterol be kept under 200, Dr. Esselstyn recommends that you stay under 150.  And, the quickest way to do that is through a low-fat plant-based diet.

I started the diet almost as soon as I finished reading the book.  I also found out that a friend of ours from Nebraska, Bryan, had started a similar lifestyle change.  It went well and the numbers dropped dramatically.  I was training for the NJ Half-Marathon, raising money for the American Heart Association, and all was well.  I was put on medication as a precaution but the doctor said that if the numbers continued to drop we could try without the meds.

But, slowly, I became overly confidant in my numbers and I started introducing foods that I should have been avoiding.  Then, an old running injury prevented me from running the NJ Half-Marathon.  Then, summer happened.  As the excuses piled up, I lost control of my diet.  Then, you came.

For the last 27 days I've been staring at you in awe.  You are incredible.  I love you tremendously and would do anything for you; including changing my lifestyle so that I can enjoy many healthy years with you.

So, I'm back to my low-fat plant-based lifestyle.  I won't say that I'll follow the diet perfectly - there's always a mistake here and there.  But, I want those mistakes to be rare.  This isn't just about me and my cholesterol anymore.  It's also about you and your mom.

Recently, former President Bill Clinton told CNN that he has lost 24 lbs following the diet that Dr. Esselstyn writes about.  He's trying to reverse his heart disease and live long enough to see his grandkids grow up.

That's a wonderful goal.  It's mine too.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

our feet

Dear Chicken Nugget,

I have the terrible burden of telling you about our feet.  I say our feet because, even though it's a little early, it looks like you inherited my feet.  Your feet look like miniature versions of mine.  Sorry about that.

My feet are a size 10.5, sometimes even an 11.  They are ridiculously flat and carry long skinny toes.  Actually my second toes are as long as the pinkies on my hands.  My littlest toe (the pinky toe) has a perpetual hangnail.  And, due to the last six years of running, I also bear some rough spots, callouses, and other marks of a runner's foot.

Despite all this, I think I have some pretty good looking feet.  Your mom disagrees.  She seems to think my feet look like built-in flippers. 

Mom can get away with it, but don't let anyone else tell you that your feet are ugly, abnormal, or inhuman.  Sure, they're not biomechanically efficient and may prevent you from becoming an Olympian but I think you have mighty fine looking feet.

Plus, your arches may still form in a year or two.  So, unlike your dad, you still have a chance.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

not your pee

Dear Chicken Nugget,

As a public school teacher, I've seen my share of accidents in the classroom.  In fact, today I had a kid pee his pants.  I thought I would be more OK with it than I was considering that for the last 21 days I've been changing diapers like a pro.  I've been peed on, pooed on and, just a minute ago, spit up on.  By you.

Side note: "Spit up" is just a cuter term for vomit.  Still even baby vomit is cuter than kindergarten bathroom accidents.  At least I think so.

My very first classroom bathroom accident happened on my very first day of teaching.  There I was, a 22 year old teacher with little training, surrounded by 26 second grade students.  I had been told by the veteran teachers around me that it was best to start the year acting as tough as possible.  I was told not to smile until March.

I had the students sitting on the rug and I was trying to get them to transition to their seats.  One student refused to move.  She said nothing and didn't budge.  I went into drill sergeant mode and dispatched the remaining students to their seats.  I acted tough.  I did not smile.  And I made the little girl cry.

I got louder.  Still, she didn't move.  When I finally got down to a crouch and spoke to her in a softer voice she said, "I had an accident."  Tough 22 year old me, the guy who wasn't going to smile until March, let out a little chuckle.  That made her smile a little too.  Then, I had to figure out what to do with the girl and the pee on my classroom rug.  I rushed to the door and called to the teacher across the hall for help.

Eight years later I still haven't been able to handle the pee or poo accidents at school gracefully.  And yet, I find myself dealing with them at home every day now.  Then again, this is what it looks like at home:

Knuffle Bunny keeps you company while we change your diapers

Pee away little one.  This I can handle.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

Editor's note: A good friend pointed out that there is a difference between spit-up and vomit.  Spit-up is regurgitation of food, while vomit is the forceful expulsion of the contents of the stomach.  Still, if adults went around regurgitating their food as often as babies did, it would be disgusting.  With you, Nugget, it's still cute.  Keep on doing what you do.

stupid mountain climbing

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Just one week ago we had dinner with you, your grandparents Sue and Dale, and your Great Uncle Steve and Aunt Angelique at our favorite restaurant, Vesta.  At just two weeks old you slept through 2 1/2 hours of dinner, crowded restaurant noise, and loud background music.  You did great!

At some point in the conversation, Uncle Steve reminded your mom and I of the time we went to visit him in Albuquerque, New Mexico and went on a hike in the Sandia Mountains.  It reminded me of the poor choices your mom and I may have made in our "youth."  Climbing the mountains that day may have been one of the stupidest things we've done...

It started on a cool spring day in April when we decided to head to the mountains for a hike.  The Sandia Mountains seem to just be out of arm's reach when viewed from most of Albuquerque and as soon as we arrived there I wanted to climb them.

Uncle Steve, your Grandma Sue's older brother, is an avid hiker and skier.  He gave us a good route to climb, let us borrow two cars to park at the start and end of our planned hike, and let us borrow his hiking poles.  We were all set.

Until we arrived at the base of the mountains.  There was only one other car parked in the lot when we arrived but we decided that this was probably due to it being a weekday.  We saw the lady from the other car take off ahead of us and figured we'd have company on the trail. We never encountered her again.

As we hiked up the slow grade of the base we came upon snow on the ground.  Just some light patches of melting snow.  For a brief moment we thought about what that meant for the rest of the trail but decided that the snow might disappear later in the trail.  (Note to the future hiker in you: If there's snow at the base, there's definitely snow in the middle and snow at the top).  We simply followed the footprints left before us, thinking that someone had already climbed there, so we would be able to as well.

As we climbed on the snow got deeper.  First just a few inches, then later covering our boots.  We had not planned for large amounts of snow so we were wearing just regular hiking boots and jeans.  Nothing waterproof.  Uncle Steve had told us that a brisk pace he could do the trail in about two hours or so.  Two hours into it we were definitely not at the top and, from our viewpoint, could not see the top. 

There were parts where the trail narrowed and just off the edge you could see evergreen tree tops.  If we slipped and fell, it would be a long way down and there would be no one around to help us.  It started hitting me then that if something happened to either of us, it would be at least two hours before we got back to the parking lot to get help.  Plus, our cell phones had no signal on the side of the mountain.

Our legs started sinking into two feet of snow.  The footprints that we had been following disappeared and were replaced by snowshoe prints.  We were moving at a snail's pace.  But we kept on.  Three hours into the hike we decided that since we had gone this far, we were going to keep pushing to the top.  There were several areas where your mom and I had to lift one another out of the snow just to be able to place our next step.  We were wet, we were cold and sweating, and we had no idea what we were doing.  Not smart.

When we finally reached the crest, about four hours later, the snowshoe prints we had been following disappeared.  There was no longer a clear path to follow.  And here is where we made the first smart decision of the day: instead of making our way across the crest, with no path or discernible prints to follow, we decided to turn back.  We briefly ate lunch at the top; where a cold wind and great view accompanied us.  Then, we made our way back down the mountain.

We followed our own steps and reenacted, against our will, a few of our favorite sinking-into-the-snow scenes.  It took us about three and a half hours to get down.  What should have taken us no more than four hours round-trip, took us seven and a half hours.  We survived but it was dumb.

There's something noble about pushing on to reach your goal, about moving forward against the odds, but there's also nothing noble in climbing a snowy mountain when you're thoroughly unprepared.

Over dinner that night, Uncle Steve told us about how they sometimes have to airlift climbers off the Sandia Mountains.  We were lucky that didn't happen to us.  And yes, it was luck, there's no skill involved in stupidity.

Glad to be alive and eternally yours,

Tu papa

the artwork in your room

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Today you are 19 days old and you're getting bigger and changing every day.  Using a home scale and a very unscientific method we recently weighed you in at a little over 7lbs.  Your hair is still there (woohoo!) and you're having more awake time each day.

You are making more eye contact though it's hard to tell what you can or cannot see with your infant eyes.  And so, that's why I'm writing this letter, to tell you about the artwork in your room:

This is called "Orange."  We bought it on East 8th Street in Manhattan at 2am one day this summer.  The elderly gentleman manning the table told us about how he has robots at home that make these prints for him.  All he does is put ideas into the machine and the robots spit these pieces of art out.  We bought it and walked away quickly.

Your mom made this painting using pastels.  She calls it "Curious Giraffe."  She used a painting she found on the internet and made it her own.  Your mom is artistically talented.  Unlike your dad...

 

This is one I made for you called "Orejon," inspired by the movie Dumbo.  As you can see, it is less skilled than your mother's painting, a little more cartoony, but made with equal amounts of love.

Your Aunt Sara made this.  She gave it to your mom a while back but we love the message and like to think that God planted you here.

And finally, one of my favorites that we bought at a store that for political reasons we're no longer aiming to shop at...

... you happened.

I hope that someday you'll enjoy these pieces on your own.  But if for some reason, like a move across the country, these pieces of artwork are lost, I want you to know that you enjoyed them in the early chapters of your life.  At least we did.

Eternally yours,

Tu papa

Work stinks

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Work stinks!  It's not the actual work, I love teaching, and I love teaching science.  It's the idea of "work" in general.

I went back to work full-time on Monday, September 20th, just 14 days after you were born.  It was rough.  It's still rough three days later.

I had to leave you and your mom at home.  I had to leave; that's where it gets tough.  I love spending time with you and your mom.  Even when you sleep, I enjoy just watching you.  So when I have to leave it breaks my heart.  I would much rather watch you sleep than go to work.

Luckily, your mom's parents, Grandma Sue and Grandpa Dale are here visiting for the week.  They've spent a good amount of time with you, playing with you, taking pictures of you, and watching you while your mom naps.  They've allowed your mom to rest during the day, they've made her lunch, and made sure that we have a good dinner.  We couldn't ask for more. 

It makes me a feel better knowing that there's loving people looking after you and your mom when I'm away during the day.  Still, you occupy my thoughts throughout the day.  During class, in between class, during lunch, after school, all my thoughts are with you and your mom.

When the day ends, I've been cramming in as much work as I can so that I don't have to take it home with me.  When I get home, I just want to spend time with my family.

It will continue to be hard, going to work, but I have to.  There's lots of diapers and baby wipes and doctor's visits that need to get paid for.  I don't mind working to help pay for those things since they're for you.  I just don't like that I have to leave you to do it.

Maybe I can become a virtual teacher some day...

Until then, I miss you tremendously.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa