on sleep

Dear Chicken Nugget,

As I write this, your mom is already in bed.  I'm still up like I typically am. I usually stay up later than your mom.  Not because I'm working on something important, though in this case, I'm writing you a letter and that is very important - no, I usually stay up later because I'm trying to answer the questions floating around in my head.

I'm sure a therapist could help me resolve my need to answer questions late at night, but for now, Google.com has been a tremendous help.

But, this is not about your dad's obsessive need to know everything.  This is about sleep.  Your mom gets plenty.  I get less than desired amounts of sleep.

It's partly a habit that I developed in High School.  Back then, I would sleep five to six hours a night and manage pretty well.  On the weekend I would sleep in and get back on track.  The five to six hours of sleep habit continued through college and into my early teaching career.  Then, around my mid-twenties something happened.  I started getting older.

Though I could still function on six or fewer hours of sleep, I started realizing that seven to eight hours was even better.  All my aches and pains and fatigue went away when I slept more.  How about that?

Then, as I entered my late twenties and, now, my thirties I could no longer function on six hours of sleep.  Now, six hours is a bad thing.  I need eight hours.

Why do I tell you all this, chicky?  Because I hope you're smarter than your dad.  I hope you learn early on that sleep is a good thing and that getting lots of it is not only good for your health but good for your soul.

Be more like mom, Chicken Nugget - get your sleep!


Heading to bed,


Your papa

date weekend

Dear Chicken Nugget,

As I write your mom is packing her clothes for a weekend away.  We've been really busy recently and wanted to get away and get a good night's rest.

So, this weekend, we're heading to the Poconos in Pennsylvania to just get away.  We don't plan on doing much.  We simply want to go somewhere, sleep in, not have to cook, and then sleep some more. 

Your mom and I realized this afternoon that we have approximately 14 weekends left as just a couple.  You'll be joining us soon after and we can't wait.  We love spending time with just us, but we're going to love spending time with just us + you too.

Someday you'll understand the need to get away without the need for an itinerary or any sort of plans.  I'm hoping there will be lots of weekends away, just the three of us (or four or five, depending on how many more Nuggets we have) and nothing in the world but time.

See you soon, Nugget! 

Te quiero siempre,
Tu papa

Week 26 in the belly

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Today you've been in the belly for 26 weeks.  Your mom is growing!  And, we're feeling you move around a lot.  Apparently, in the womb, you love when your momma has sweets.  Whenever your mom has something sweet, be it chocolate or an apple, you start kicking like crazy.  Nugget, apparently you're a fan of sugar. Join the club.

We learned this week that you can probably hear my voice so I started to read to you.  I started by reading a bilingual alphabet book to the belly.  We'll be playing lots of music for you as well.  I'm hoping the music will help you develop a sense of rhythm - you are half-latino so rhythm is very important.

So, keep growing baby.  Keep kicking.  And dance away the sugar rush.

We love you,

Your papa

nesting

Dear Chicken Nugget,

I write this one in case you ever have to live in the same house as your mom while she's pregnant.  There's something in the world of pregnancy that people call "nesting." 

In simple terms, nesting is when the momma sparrow decides she needs to get her space ready for her eggs and future chicks and starts to throw a bunch of stuff out.  The momma sparrow will also tell the daddy sparrow to move stuff, clean stuff, paint stuff, and throw stuff out.  And, if the daddy sparrow even hesitates for a brief moment, the mommy sparrow will eat him. 

So tonight I came home, took the futon apart, and hauled it out of the apartment - 'cause your momma said so.  We got rid of one more thing that was taking up space in your future room and with just three months to spare.  Phew! 

If you ever find yourself living the in same home as your pregnant mother, do what she says.  Always.

Nesting is a very real condition and should be taken seriously.


And, we do it all for you.

Love you always,

Your papa
 

Timothy Andrew and the banana

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Work has been busy for me and your mom has been busy trying to get through her graduate school finals, so I haven't had too much time to sit and write.

Plus, this week we've got visitors!  Your Aunt Sara and cousin Timothy are here.  You'll grow up hanging out with Timothy a lot because he's your cousin and you'll be pretty close in age.  He was born in September of 2009 and you'll (probably) be born in September of 2010.

So, right now he's eight months old and crawling everywhere.  He's exploring boxes, enjoying tasting new foods, and being as playful as can be.  We've enjoyed having him at home with us for a few days because it's given us a taste of what it will be like to have you at home. 


I was tired after a long day and night and barely heard the alarm go off this morning.  Twice.  But then I heard your cousin Timothy crying.  I found him in his crib standing up and calling for attention.  I picked him up and brought him to the kitchen with me.  While I ate my oatmeal, Timothy ate some banana. 

Even though I was really tired from the previous day, having that breakfast time with little Timothy had my day off to a great start.

I know your Aunt Sara probably won't like me saying this, but I'm kind of looking forward to hearing Timothy cry tomorrow morning.  I'd love to have breakfast with him again.  Just me, Timothy Andrew, and the banana.


Can't wait to have breakfast with you, little nugget,

Your papa

OMG OMG OMG

Dear Chickent Nugget,

Not sure if the letters OMG will mean anything to you - they're kind of a recent development in the history of human language.  It's basically a shorthand way of writing "Oh my God!"

Last night I had an OMG moment.  After your mom read a book to you, I leaned over and put my hand on her belly.  From inside her belly I felt a little thump.  I asked your mom if that was her or you, and she said that it was you.

So, for the first time ever, I felt you move!!!!!!   OMG!

We've made contact baby.  It's almost as if you read my last letter.  Just so you know this is now my favorite thing to do. 

I'll check on you again before I leave for work this morning.


Te quiero,

Your papa

23 weeks in the belly

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Today you've been in the belly for 23 weeks.  You are now about 11 inches long and weigh over a pound.  This puts you at about the size of a mango.

Your sense of movement is now well-developed so you can feel your mom moving and dancing.  So, I'll be dancing with your mom a lot over the next few weeks.  Your ears are picking up loud noises from the outside world now.  So maybe if I scream, you can hear me.  I'm sure you'll mom will love me screaming around the apartment.

Your mom has been feeling you kick more and she's been reading books to you every night.  Last week she even got a seat on the subway because people are starting to notice that she is pregnant.   

I'm hoping that soon I'll be able to feel you through the belly.  Keep kicking baby!


Eternally yours,

Your papa

your great grandfather Bolivar

Dear Chicken Nugget,

It's been a while since I wrote a letter, but it's been a busy couple of weeks.  Don't worry, I won't neglect you the way I neglect my writing.  In fact, my writing production will decrease when you arrive because I'll want to spend as much time as I can with you.

I wanted to share with you that today would have been your great grandfather Bolivar's birthday.  Had he been alive today he would have been 96 or 98, depending on who you asked.  According to his paperwork, he was 96, but according to him he was two years older.  He always told us that they made a mistake when they registered his birth back in 1913.  Back then, chicky, they used pens and paper for all their record keeping and sometimes made mistakes.  Crazy!

Anyway, Bolivar Santiago Escudero Cascante (yes, you'll learn that our people like to use all their names) was born in Ecuador where he lived a life full of excitement and wonder.  He was an altar boy as a child, a boxer as a young man, a telegraph worker and salesman as an adult, a father of eight children, husband to your great grandmother Maria, grandfather to 17, and great grandfather to a yet incomplete number of children (as of this writing, 10.5 <- you're the .5).  He came to the United States in the early 1980s and became a citizen in 1999, one of the proudest days of his life. 

When I was little, around 4 or 5, he would tell me these grand stories of his boxing matches or of him fighting off tigers.  He would sing me tango songs of love and deception.  And, he would drink the awful "yogurt" mixes I made from random materials I could get my hands on.

But, I also remember him for what he taught me.  He taught me to always listen to my mother.  He taught me to always help a lady with carrying heavy bags.  He taught me to walk behind a lady so I could make sure she was safe from danger.  My grandfather taught me wrestling moves when I was home sick with the chickenpox.  He taught me to always try a food at least once.  He taught me to always have a snack before going to a party because you never know if they'll serve a meal.  And, more importantly, he taught me to enjoy life.  I don't think I can recall a time when my grandfather wasn't singing or playing the harmonica or telling a joke or flirting with the ladies.

He was quite a guy and I'm sorry you missed him in this life.  He passed away just last summer after a long battle with congestive heart failure.  Even in his last days he kept fighting back like a champ.  He was a great example of living every minute to the fullest.

I hope I can pass on some of his wisdom to you.

Wishing my grandpa a happy birthday up there and
Eternally yours,

Your papa