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