You survived your first earthquake

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Yesterday afternoon you were sitting on my lap, drinking milk from a bottle, when I felt the house sway.  This being New York City, I thought nothing of it, buses and trucks will make the house shake every day.  However, this made me feel a little dizzy.  I figured I must be hungry.

Minutes later I got a message from a co-worker that said, "Earthquake?"  I had no idea what she was talking about.  Then I put two and two together.  I turned on the television to reports that NYC had indeed just experienced part of an earthquake.

A 5.8 magnitude earthquake originating in Virgina was felt as far away as Canada.  What we felt was a 2.2.  Luckily it seems to have caused very little damage and no one was hurt. 

Still, it was your very first earthquake.  And you survived!

Your mom, by the way, was out helping a woman with a newborn baby and felt nothing.  She missed in our shared earthquake experience.  But that's ok, I don't think you noticed a thing. 

You finished the your bottle, watch the Mayor give a press conference, got bored by that, and started playing your ukulele.


Hoping all the earthquakes in your future are this easy,

Tu papa

Your mom is a better athlete...

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Yesterday, your mom and I complete the 3rd Annual Staten Island Triathlon. Your mom, by the way, is a better athlete than the average person, including me. There, I said it.

We once competed in a duathlon (run-bike-run) two years ago where she beat me by a couple of minutes. That same Fall I beat her in another duathlon (run-bike-run) by a couple of minutes. This triathlon (1/3 mile swim - 12 mile bike - 4 mile run) was our third head-to-head competition. And she crushed me.

we ate a healthy plate of rice, beans, and veggies for dinner the night before our race

We woke up really early to drive down to Staten Island with your Abuela Betty helping us with our equipment and keeping you entertained. Although I was nervous, there was very little time to be nervous now that we've got you. A lot of our focus is on your well-being and comfort so it's a good distraction from race-day nerves.

It feels like we barely got set up when they called us to head down to the beach. Now, the swim is my weakest sport. I learned to swim at the age of 25. Your mom was on the High School swim team. She was also a lifeguard. So, heading into the swim, I took it easy.

I was surprised by how great it felt to swim in the choppy ocean water. I was slow, with people passing me left and right, but I was swimming without having to stop; that's a victory for me. I came out of the water a full three minutes behind your mom.

Heading to the bike I pedaled as hard as I could. We biked a 4-mile loop three times, so I could see you mom ahead of me, but I could never catch up. I managed to make up some time on the bike but not nearly enough for what was about to happen.

I consider myself a runner so I was confident that I could make up some time on the 4-mile run. However, after swimming and biking for over and hour, your legs feel like tree trunks. And mine did. For about four miles. Your mom, on the other hand, said she felt great. She sped through the run leaving me gasping for air behind her.

Your mom finished in 1hr48min26sec and I finished in 1hr54min45sec, a full 6+ minutes behind her.

you joined us to celebrate the finish

So, your mom has beaten me in two of our three athletic competitions. Of course, this doesn't end here. While discussing our triathlon over dinner your mom said, confidently, that she could beat me in a road race - my sport!

So, on September 17th, we'll be facing off in a 4-mile race.

If you're smart, you'll put your money on your mom crossing the finish line before me. If you're lucky, you'll get her athletic genes.


Still running,

Tu papa

You are YouTube famous!

Dear Chicken Nugget,

You mom bought me a ukulele for my birthday a year ago since I had dropped lots of hints that I wanted to try and learn to play it.  Unfortunately, I have no musical talent and your mom had no training in string instruments so it just lay under our bed for over a year. 

A few months ago she discovered a ukulele class for parents and babies.  For four weeks she took you and the uke to Brooklyn, learned some chords, and even wrote a song for you called "Santiago's song."

You became instantly intrigued by the ukulele and always wanted to play with it.  The problem was, your mom was always practicing and you were messing up the tuning of the ukulele.  So, we ordered you your very own uke.  What happened next was beyond our expectations.

We figured it would act as a decoy for when your mom was practicing.  It turned out to be your favorite toy and a source of hours of entertainment for our family.  Between you, your mom, and I (I've finally learned some chords through your mom), we traded the two ukes endlessly, each having a go at a song or two.  In fact, one day we clocked almost four hours of ukulele playing time. 

We filmed one of your performances and put it up on YouTube to share with friends and family - an instant hit!



Our level of excitement for the ukulele hasn't diminished.  On some mornings you will crawl out of your bed and head straight for the ukulele to play for almost an hour.  And, because two ukes for three people doesn't entirely add up, we went ahead and got another one.  Now each of us has a uke. 

If some day you become a famous musician or even just pretty good at playing an instrument, you really need to thank your mom for taking those ukulele classes.  It really sparked an interest in all of us that we didn't know existed.  And, it's created the musical little monster we love to hear play and sing.


Enjoy,

tu papa

How to fuel a plant-based triathlete

Dear Chicken Nugget,

I shared the following with some friends who were asking how it was possible that your mom and I could train for a triathlon eating a plant-based diet.  There's a common misconception that plant-based diets lack protein.  But the reality is plants have lots of protein with the added benefit of lacking cholesterol.

Here's what I wrote:

I was sent a message last night asking how I could possibly do what I was doing on a plant-based diet, specifically how do I get enough protein.  My answer is pretty simple: eat lots and make most of what you eat whole grains, veggies, and fruit.  You will get more than enough of what you need if you eat a variety of plant foods.
Of course, I'm lucky, I have a wife who agrees with me nutritionally and together we make some incredible healthy dishes so there's never the temptation of watching her eat fried chicken with a side of fries.

Today in Week 2 of Triathlon training I woke up to swim for 30 minutes, after lunch I did five sets of pushups totaling 68, and tonight I ran for 40 minutes.  Plus somewhere in between all that I did some work, read the newspaper, took Santiago (that's you Nugget) on an hour and a half walk, and went to the dentist. Granted this is during my summer vacation, but during the school year I would pretty much be doing the same thing, minus the swimming.

So, pretty busy day, how to fuel it was the question:

Breakfast:
1 slice Whole Wheat Organic Bread with crunchy almond butter and a drizzle of honey
2 glasses of water

Went swimming (30 minutes)
Walked with Santiago in the stroller for an hour and a half

Breakfast 2:
Brooklyn Bagel Plain with a schmear of soy cream cheese
3 glasses of water

Work, Read the Paper

Lunch:
Big Bowl of Latin Corn Soup (sweet potato, tomatoes, corn, hominy, red pepper, chili pepper, onion, garlic)
Handful of Organic Corn tortillas
1 glass of water

Work, Pushups (68)

Snack:
1 glass of iskiate (water, lime juice, agave nectar, chia seeds)

Dentist

Dinner:
Cous Cous with Lentil Salad (lentils, onions, pepper)
Bibb lettuce, tomato, cucumber salad
1 glass of water

Santi's bath, bedtime books
40 min Run

Snack:
1 cup of Millet with Raisins
1 Banana
Handful of Walnuts
2 glasses of water

Total calories: about 2600
Total protein: about 75g of protein
Total cholesterol: 0
Plenty of fiber

Is my diet perfect?  No.  But, it's plant-based deliciousness, fuels my triathlon training, I'm never hungry, it keeps me healthy, and helps me lower my cholesterol.


I wanted to share this with you Nugget because you're the primary reason we're eating this way.  My body makes too much cholesterol and my family has a history of heart-disease, diabetes, and cancer.  I refuse to be a statistic.

I am plant-strong so that I can stay healthy enough to watch you grow up, God willing.


Loving you with a healthy heart,

Tu papa

Happy Birthday, Abuela!

Dear Chicken Nugget,

On July 13th we celebrated your Abuela's 71st Birthday.  She would kill me if she knew I was putting her age in a letter - she likes to tell people that she only celebrates the day of her birth not the number of years she has lived.

We went to a Spanish Tapas restaurant in Manhattan:

Abuela Betty and Santi

We followed that by heading to the Children's Museum of Manhattan:

And then, we surprised your Abuela by getting you a professional haircut, you very first!

Before

 

 

After

Your Abuela thought it was the best birthday she's had in a long time - all because you were a big part of it.


Thank you for making my mom's birthday the best,

Tu papa

What to do when you lose someone

Dear Nugget,

On Mother's Day this year I called my mom, your Abuela, to wish her a Happy Mother's Day.  She told me, with a cracking voice, that it wasn't a happy one - her sister had passed away.

My tia Chabela (Aunt Isabel in English) was my mom's oldest sister, mother of four, grandmother of four, incredibly wise, and really funny.  She had been fighting cancer, multiple myeloma, for over a year.

My first memory of her was on my first trip to Ecuador that I can remember (my very first trip was when I was one).  I was traveling alone and had been told to look for a lady that looked like my mom and my Aunt Bella combined.  I spotted her in the crowd at the airport and she gave me the big motherly hug I needed.

She was my Aunt, but like any of my aunts, she was a mom to me.  I spent many summers in Ecuador, living at her house, and have nothing but the fondest memories of her.

She never got to meet you but she saw you in pictures and I told her all about you on the phone.

Writing about a loved one you lose is hard and that's why it's been three months since I last wrote a letter.  It's hard to process a loss like that.  But, we've all been working through it.

Here are my recommendations to you for what to do when you lose someone you love:
- Pray.
- Look around you for support.  Friends and family will be there when you need them most.
- Whatever you feel is OK.  Let the feelings flow.  Feel them.
- Take as much time as you need to grieve.
- Live your life.  My grandmother Maria was known to have people rolling in laughter at funerals, telling funny stories of the deceased.  She knew that life went on.  Keep moving.
- Pray some more.

You will lose people, Nugget, and it will be the hardest thing you'll ever deal with in your life.  No matter what happens know that you are always loved and we are always with you (here and in the next world).

"And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age." - Jesus

Loving you, always,

Tu papa

Creating More Questions

Dear Chicken Nugget,

It's been a long week!  Somehow I managed to get sick at the end of the work week, just in time for our Spring break.  We're flying to Madison, WI this week to visit your Aunt Sara, Uncle Jerry, and Cousin Timothy this week.  Your Grandpa Dale and Grandma Sue will be there too.

I have a tendency to get sick right before vacations.  I have a feeling that it's because my body knows that I'm going to have time to rest so it pushes through and doesn't give in to the bug until the last minute.  Unfortunately, it ruins a couple of days of vacation for me.

I am looking forward to a few days of play time with you and your mom.  As you get older and become much more aware of your surroundings, it has been an incredible experience to show you new things.

For example . . . a box!  Yes, a cardboard box.  Your mom placed you in one the other day and you enjoyed it tremendously.  In fact, we now have a permanent cardboard box station in the kitchen for you to play in.

As we were learning about paper and boxes in kindergarten science, I decided to show my kindergarteners how you play in the box:

I recently started a Science Teacher blog called "Creating More Questions" for my students, their parents, and other science teachers.  My students love it!  They keep sending me emails about the website or asking questions about science via the website.  In fact, two students wrote a comment about you in the box, wondering how you got in there.  I'm using you to show them that kids (and some adults) learn best by playing. 

Nugget, you are a non-stop playing machine right now and you're learning so much.  I hope that by sharing your experience in a box we'll prompt another parent out there to put their kid in a box or prompt kids to build a fort out of the box or use the box as an imaginary boat.  The possibilities are endless, the learning is limitless, and the photos are priceless.


Thank you for helping me teach science,

Tu papa 

Mmmmm

Dear Chicken Nugget,

We've been watching as you grow and develop at warp speed now.  You've been munching on solid foods, scooting backwards, playing hide-and-seek, and babbling.

Of all the things you've been doing, one of the coolest has been watching you eat solid foods.  We've been using an approach to solids called Baby Led Weaning.  Basically, we give you a few solid foods at a time and watch you try it out.

Initially, you'll just explore it.  Then you'll play with it.

Eventually, it gets to your mouth.
  

You are doing an incredible job with it!

There are certain foods that you are absolutely loving: zucchini, broccoli, and sweet potato.

There are others, like oatmeal, that seem to just be a play food.

Still, you love food just as much as we do and are an active participant in our mealtimes.  Of course, it's also a little messier in our kitchen now but it's worth it.

Eternally yours,


Tu papa

Today you cried for Papi

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Today you went to the doctor and got another shot.  Apparently you toughed it out and didn't cry.  Either you're a tough little boy or you can't feel the pinch thanks to those chunky thighs of yours.  At almost seven months, you now weigh 17 lbs 14 oz and are 26 inches long.

When I got home this afternoon, your mom was holding you in her arms.  You smiled and bounced with excitement when I said hello.  I ran to the kitchen to get some boxes for a friend who was waiting in her car downstairs.  You cried as I left your sight.  When I came back to the living room with the boxes, you smiled again. 

But, again, when I left your sight and ran down the stairs to deliver the boxes, you let out a wail.  After delivering the boxes, I ran up the stairs and you stopped crying.  As I headed straight to the bathroom to wash my hands so I could hold you, you cried again.

It seems you really wanted to hang out with me and were upset whenever I left the room.  That made me feel special.  I grabbed you as fast as I could from your mom, you did your excited bounce (flapping of the arms included), and lay your head on my shoulder. 

It's great to be your dad.


Te quiero,

Tu papa

"bay-bee"

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Over the last few weeks we've been hearing you vocalize like a champ.  What started like a series of random grunts and coos are becoming serious practice for making words. 

There have been exciting fast exhalations that end in a cooing smile.  And, there's the long scream-like tones that would be interpreted as anger if you were an adult.  These are my favorite because they're usually accompanied by pounding on the table.

Two days ago your mom heard you say the "b" sound over and over again.  It's your first consonant!  Yesterday, I heard it too.  Of course to me, it sounded like an actual word.  I swear you said "baby."

I think you're brilliant. 

That's all.


Eternally yours,


Tu papi

a tooth!

Dear Chicken Nugget,

It took a couple of months but after lots of crying and chewing, your first tooth popped out on March 9, 2011. 

The second one followed just eleven days later.

Now, while most people are admiring your ridiculously cute smile...

... your mami's pain-center of the brain focuses on this...

OK, not true.  She loves you in all your cuteness.  But, I've felt your bite . . . OUCH!





Eternally yours,


Tu papa

the sleep routine - Part II

Dear Chicken Nugget,

With big work deadlines looming a week from now, a half-marathon in ten days, family worries, and general busyness keeping me from writing you these notes, I feel like it's been forever. 

There's way too much going on and it has affected my sleep and running, but there's always moments in life like this when everything seems to happen at the same time.  Luckily, deadlines pass, races are run, and relaxing times are just around the corner. 

In the meantime, I've been coming home and spending lots of awake time with you.  I haven't been getting to work until you fall asleep - sometimes 9:30pm.  Even now, it's midnight as I write this.  I've been working this entire time. 

Through all the work, lack of sleep, and stress, you've been giving me a beautiful gift for the last three nights.  In recent weeks you've fallen asleep with your mom.  But, for the last three nights, you've been falling asleep in my arms.  A couple of nights ago you had fussed a little, letting us know you were starting to get tired.  I put on some karaoke-versions of Michael Buble songs and sang to you while holding you and dancing with you. 

As I sang, you put your head on my chest and relaxed.  If I stopped singing, you lifted your head up and stared up at me until I started again.  Less than three songs into it, you were out.  It was adorable.

Last night it happened again, this time you were out in about a song and a half.  Tonight it took about four songs but it ended with you snoring on my chest.

 
So, yes, I have lots of work to do.  Yes, I could use more sleep.  And yes, I should resign from my position on any number of extracurricular activities.  But, through all that overloaded, overworked, overtired crazyness, I come home to you and your mom and get to sing you to sleep.  Totally worth it.



Eternally yours,

Tu Papa

Lent begins

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday and, therefore, marks the beginning of Lent.  Lent is the part of the church year when Christians prepare for Holy Week through prayer, penitence, almsgiving, and self-denial.

This period lasts 40 days, excluding Sundays which celebrate the Resurrection.  However, I tend to celebrate the Sundays of Lent by continuing on with my Lenten resolutions.  No days off.  

It's a rather serious-sounding season that I've come to really appreciate as an adult.  When I was young it was fun to see what you could give up for Lent and how long it would last: ice cream, soda, TV, etc.

As an adult, I think it's even more powerful than those New Year's Resolutions I like to make (by the way, I owe you $300 already).  I've come to use Lent to focus on my family, my health, and my faith.  Sure, I'll still give up "fun" things like television but I'll also do things that help me focus on what's really important.

This year my Lent list includes:
- No internet (on the phone or computer) while at home and you, Nugget, are awake - unless working under a tight deadline for work
- Eat a low-fat Pescatarian diet
- Do yoga or stretch every day
- Give thanks before every meal - we've grown accustomed to only doing so before dinner
- Complete the Sunday School Year-Long Curriculum

I'm sure that when I come home tomorrow you will be transfixed by the smudge of dust on my forehead.  On Ash Wednesday we are reminded that "you are dust, and unto dust you shall return." (Genesis 3:19)  It's an "in your face" reminder, literally, that we are mortal.

For me, it's a reminder that there is much to do in this world before it's my turn to go.  I hope a lot of that time is spent with you and your mom.  No days off.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

Happy Birthday to us!

Dear Chicken Nugget,

On February 8th, your mom and I celebrated our birthday.  She and I share the same birthday, a year apart.

When your mom and I met, it was in passing. She was a coworker of two of my roommates and I was a one of four bachelor guys sharing an apartment that boasted a four foot poster of Snoop Dogg on the wall.

She would occasionally drop by for a school planning session or I would see her at a friendly poker game.  We interacted briefly, I thought she was cute and I liked that she could play poker and beat the guys, but we never really had much of a conversation.

Then, one day, at a friend's surprise birthday party she and I sat across from each other at the bar.  We were talking birthdays and she said hers was in February.  I said, "Oh yeah?  Me too.  When?"

"February 8th."

I smiled. "That's my birthday too."

As I remember it, we stared at each other for a second or two in disbelief and I made some comment about how Aquarians are the best.  And that was that.

A couple of years later I was having dinner on February 8th with her and your Grandma Betty celebrating our birthday.  A couple of years after that we were celebrating our birthday, getting ready to fly to Negril, Jamaica for our wedding.  And, three years after that... you joined us for our birthday.

Birthday dinner with Grandma Betty

The absolute best birthday gift we could ever ask for is you.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

February: A Month of Celebration

Dear Chicken Nugget,

I haven't written a letter to you in over a month.  Please forgive this brief time away.

There was lots going on in February that I'll be writing about in the next few weeks:
- Your mom and I celebrated our birthday on February 8th (we have the same birthday!)
- We spent our first Valentine's Day with you
- We celebrated our 3rd Anniversary on February 18th
- I spent a week at home for Mid-Winter Recess
- We watched you roll over from your back to your belly - turns out it's harder than it looks
- I saw your first tooth and then watched it vanish
- We filed our taxes two months ahead of schedule
- You ate your first food (sweet potato)
- I officially enrolled in the Libertarian Party
- We taught you your first word in baby sign language (tickle)
- You started missing your parents

This list will probably serve as a sort of preview of the letters to come.  There was so much going on in February and I spent so much great quality time with you and your mom that writing my letters to you became something I kept putting off.  Of course, there's plenty going on in March, but I need to get going again and catch up.

I'll leave you with this, tonight as I pulled out "Ve, Perro,Ve" to read to you, you recognized it (it's one of ten books we read to you every day), smiled, and laughed in excitement as I read the title.

Looks like we have your first favorite book!


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

napping with you

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Yesterday I came home early from church to help take care of you.  With teeth working their way through your gums, you've been having some fussy periods.

I came home to a screaming baby Nugget.  You wanted to be held close.  You had little patience for any activity and preferred to just be in arms.

When I saw the signs of your getting tired, I cradled you, and rocked you in the rocking chair.  The apartment got quieter as your lids grew heavier.  I put you down in our bed and laid next to you, my hand on your chubby leg, and you feel asleep.

As I got up to sneak away, you opened your eyes and grabbed my shirt tight.  I laid back down, you still holding my shirt, and watched you fall back asleep.  You wanted me to stay with you.  I did.

I ended up taking a nice 45 minute nap with you.  It was wonderful. 

I woke up to the sounds of a screaming Nugget.  Eh. 

I still love you, though, and I absolutely love napping with you.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

when papi meets the ground

Dear Chicken Nugget,

After our snow day on Thursday, I had a hard time finding a place to run. There are huge piles of snow on the sidewalk and on every corner there's an adventurous obstacle of snow, ice, slush, and ginormous puddles.

Early this morning, before church, I decided to go out for my 5-mile "long" run.  For the next 12 weekends, I'll be running longer and longer as I reach for the half-marathon distance (13.1 miles).  With the temperatures going over the freezing mark and the sun breaking out this morning, I figured it would be a great day for a run. 

About half a mile in, after having to jump over puddles, climb hills of snow, and hop over patches of ice, I thought, "This is a great run. Can't wait to tell everyone about all the obstacle dodging I got to do."  Little did I know...

Running up a path in the park, I passed a lady with a small fluffy dog.  No biggie.  Literally.  Then, I saw a lady with two unleashed Pit Bulls.  Generally, I'm respectful of dogs.  I give them their space and prefer to not run near them.  However, this was a narrow path and the only way to continue was to come pretty close to those dogs. 

I slowed to a walk, held my gaze forward, hands down, and walked confidently forward showing that I was no harm to them.  The two dogs decided to come over to say an aggressive hello or to have me for breakfast.  One dog jumped up on my leg, with lips retracted, showing it's menacing sharp teeth.  The other dog came around and was about to do the same when the owner finally called out, "Lucy, Stop!"

Seriously? I was almost eaten alive by a dog names Lucy?  Great.  Luckily, Lucy and pal backed off and ran back to their owner.  I started running again feeling some scratches above my right knee where Lucy had jumped up.  But, I didn't think it was too bad and just kept going. 

I continued to enjoy my running game of snowy survival and was soon lost in thought.  About another half mile in, I was enjoying the sun warming my face . . .

. . . it's funny, when the world looks tilted at a 45-degree angle and you find  your arms flailing up in the air, the only thought that can cross your mind, is the obvious, "Oh $#!+, I'm about to fall" . . .

And, I did.  Hard.  I landed on my rights side, right on my hip.  I rolled over onto my belly and stayed down, cursing the ground, and assessing my injuries.  As I slowly got up, I noticed the huge patch of ice on the ground that I missed.  From across the street I heard a guy call out, "You OK?" 

"Yeah, I think so," I said, feeling my leg and hip to make sure there were no bones sticking out of my skin.

"I'm an ER doctor coming home from the hospital," he called back.  "I saw six fractures on my shift, three of them runners." 

I'm pretty sure I heard a slight laugh in his voice. 

I walked around for a bit, feeling things out.  He stayed to watch me for a bit. 

As I broke into a light jog for a bit, he asked, "Are you sure you're OK?"

"Yeah," I shakily called back.  There was no obvious pain, aside from the bruising kind you tend to get on the bone after a hard fall.

"All right.  Take it easy," he said and started back on his walk home. 

I still had a mile to go on my run.  I should go home, I thought.  Then I thought, no, get the mile done.  It can't get worse. 

I gingerly stepped over ice patches on the rest of my run, nothing heroic.  I made it home safe, or as safe as can be after a dog attack and hard fall.

In my six years of running I've never been attacked by a dog or fallen on ice.  I have fallen on a boardwalk by a beach trying to chase after your mom, but I'll save that story for another day. 

Twenty years from now, if you hear that I've fallen on an icy run, it'll probably involve a trip to the hospital and, possibly, surgery.  Thankfully, I'm still young enough that I can get up from a hard fall on my hip and keep going.

Please come visit me at the hospital.  Also, don't ever name a Pit Bull Lucy.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

firefighters to the rescue

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Tonight was an exciting Friday night.  Usually I come home, play with you, have some dinner, put you to sleep, do some reading, and go to sleep myself.  This evening it was just about the same except for the two fire trucks that showed up at our door.

While you played under your jungle gym and as we sat for a bowl of delicious veggie soup your mom made, we heard the carbon monoxide alarm beep.  We opened the kitchen window and opened the door to our apartment for ventilation.  Then, unsure of the next steps, I looked it up online.  Most sites suggest you leave the house and immediately call 911.  We called our city's information line, 311, which promptly connected us to 911.  After repeating our information three times to three different operators, I heard, "Sir, FDNY will respond."

Cool, I thought.  Firefighters are coming.  I'm going to be 31 in a week and half and I still find fire trucks and all the cool equipment very exciting. 

A minute after hanging up the phone we heard the sirens.  By minute two there were six firefighters at our door.  Two of them ran up the stairs - one holding some sort of reader thing and the other holding a long spear-like hook.  Awesome!

We had moved you to the Jumperoo where you were diligently gnawing on a seahorse chew toy.  The strange men in uniforms with silly hats and funny toys drew your attention.  You stared at them.  There was no bouncing, no noise, no crying.  You just stared. 

The firefighters were kind enough to take pictures with you.  Of course, they were still doing their job - measuring the air for a dangerous poisonous gas.  But, while they did it, why not take a picture with the cute baby?

After reassuring us that we weren't in danger and telling us to buy a new alarm, they left.  You followed them out the door with your gaze as we thanked them for their help. 

I'm sure we experienced the beginning of what will be a lifelong fascination with firefighters. 

Your mom and I are grateful for the FDNY for making sure we're safe.  We hope their night was full of easy assignments and cute babies.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

Snow Day!

Dear Chicken Nugget,

It worked.  All of it!

12.6" of snow fell in Queens overnight

Snow day!

we had a great time in the snow

you hung out in the snow for a bit

and we rushed back inside to get warm

Best day of the year.  If you ever wonder why daddy keeps flushing frozen peas down the toilet, today is the reason why.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

sNOw Day?

Dear Chicken Nugget,

The news in New York City this winter has been packed with snow.  We've gotten a lot of it.  At least three storms have come through with significant accumulation.  There was one storm that came through the day after Christmas that actually made New York City stop for a bit - and that almost never happens. 

During that storm, your Great Uncle Richard was stuck on a bus for three hours.  The bus got stuck in deep snow, the snow drifts made it difficult for people to get off, and the winds were blowing at over 50mph.  I'm sure he'll tell you the whole story in hilarious detail some day.

Even tonight, as I write this letter, meteorologists are predicting 8"-12" of snow by 8am.  Usually this would get me excited for a snow day.  But, this year the City of New York seems to be on an anti-snow day kick.

It's unfortunate.  There is much fun to be had in a fresh pile of snow.  On the day after a snowstorm a couple of weeks ago, a father called our school to inform us that he was keeping his son home from school.  Not for safety reasons or anything of that sort - he simply wanted to take his kid to the park to play in the snow.  That kid's dad became my hero that day.  At least some folks out there still know how to enjoy a good snowfall.

I love the snow too and would appreciate being able to explore it with you tomorrow.  So, tonight I put a spoon under my pillow, turned my PJs inside out, did the snow dance, and flushed a handful of frozen peas down the toilet.  (OK, so technically the last one was supposed to be ice cubes but we're out and I figured the next best flushable frozen thing in our freezer was the peas.)

If we get a snow day, we party.  If we don't, I'll leave the partying to you and your mom.  I'll be at school, with about half the kids, all wishing they were playing in the snow.

Have a good night, Nugget.  Sleep tight.  Dream of snow!


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

I sing, you laugh

Dear Chicken Nugget,

I like to sing out loud.  Your poor grandma had to listen to endless hours of me singing along with Menudo, Michael Jackson, Dr. Dre, Third Eye Blind, or whoever my favorite artist was at the moment of my indoor concert.

There's audio tapes of my singing as a kid somewhere that my mom had me record.  Still, no one ever taught me how to sing and no one in my family told me I had an awful voice.   

When we were 11 or 12 years old, my friend Rolando yelled at me for trying to imitate Michael Jackson's voice.  He told me it sounded terrible.  I never really took that to heart.  Your mom still has to deal with my high-pitched warbling.

In High School the music teacher asked me to try out for the Choir.  She had heard something relatively good during class and wanted me to try it out.  On the day I tried out, standing before some pretty good singers, I unleashed about a third of a decent scale before my voice broke into a series of cracks and shrieks.  The music teacher kindly told me it was just my voice changing and suggested I try out again in six months.  I never went back.

No one has really said much about my singing since.  I think folks are just being nice. Then, last week you started laughing at me.

Recently you've been going to bed without the need for any sleepy time routine.  However, with teeth seeming to push and cut their way through those little gums, you've been getting a little fussy at night.  So, this week we went back to the sleep routine.

As I picked you up and cradled you in my arms, with a slight bounce in my step, I broke into Frank Sinatra's "The Way You Look Tonight"...

Some day, when I'm awfully low...

Heh, Heh, Heh

When the world is cold...

Heh, Heh, Heh

I will feel a glow... Heh

Just thinking of you... Heh, Heh

Your mom heard your raspy laugh and started cracking up. 

For about a week now I've been laughed at when I sing.  It's cute.  For now.  Because you're little.

Hopefully I'm not doing any long term damage.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

when we were young

Dear Chicken Nugget,

I spent most of the day thinking about my elementary school friends.  One of my oldest buddies, a guy I've been friends with since kindergarten, sent an email highlighting a piece another friend wrote and his own subsequent reflection.

Carly wrote a piece about our first grade class and where some of us are now. She called you "praiseworthy."   She used the word "lauded" in describing me as a science teacher.  God bless her and her words.

Your good-looking papi is in the second row, third from the left

My friend Rolando told the story of how Carly went from being his nemesis to becoming a friend.

I have great memories of both.  And today I spent a good deal of time lost in those memories.

I remember going to Carly's house to play and thinking how nice she was.  Super nice.  Her mom too.  Her mom once asked my mom for a recipe for Spanish rice.  Not sure why I remember that.  I also remember hiding a pair of earrings I got from a toy vending machine in her desk in the third grade.  I wasn't going for the earrings, that's just my luck.

Rolando is permanently etched in my mind since he was a constant presence.  Not only was he a good friend, his family was wonderful to me. He was the bold one and I was shy one and I was glad to play sidekick. I spent a lot of time at his apartment, playing video games, talking movies, discussing time travel, and going places. 

For that matter, the parents of my friends were responsible for me getting out of our cramped apartment often.  My friend Vanessa's dad took us to an antique car shows and to NYPD family events (he was a detective).  My friend Andres' parents took us to Mets games and on trips to Bear Mountain.

My mom, too, took the kids who lived on my block on trips to the Bronx Zoo and to weekly Junior Park Ranger meetings.

These memories led me to the already known conclusion that the reason my childhood is full of great memories with these kids was that our parents were incredible.  It's with their active influence that we experienced what we did and had the fun we had.

As a parent, I hope that I can do for you what they did for us.

And, I hope that you end up meeting a bunch as awesome as ours when you get to school.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

I cried

Dear Chicken Nugget,

This morning as I sat down on the couch to eat breakfast, I sat on a rattle. 

It made me think of you.

And, I cried.

That's all.  I love being your dad.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

zombies & cardio

Dear Chicken Nugget,

I love zombies.  They're scary and gruesome.  And scary.  And I love them.  

It probably has something to do with the fact that I was introduced to scary movies at an early age.  I love a good scary movie.  A good scary movie is like a roller coaster ride in the dark.  And, if the scary movies is about zombies, even better.

Sometimes I'll even dream about zombies.  In these dreams I'm fighting them, running away from them, and genuinely getting an adrenaline rush out of it.  Zombie dreams are the best.

So, today when you and your mom went out to meet up with other mommies and babies, I stayed home and put on Zombieland.  I tried watching that movie with your mom once.  She didn't last beyond the opening credits.  She doesn't get scary movies the way I do.  She doesn't dream about zombies either.

As I write this letter I'm watching the main character run away from zombies. 

Yet another good reason to train hard.  We also own the Zombie Survival Guide, so no worries.  FYI, as soon as you learn to walk we're gonna teach you how to run.  Rule #1: Cardio.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

BHAGs

Dear Chicken Nugget,

I've got a problem.  I love to run.  But, during the cold, winter months I can't get myself to run on my own; at least not regularly and as often as I'd like.  Running in the freezing cold is hard, not to mention stupid.  

This year my winter running has improved by coaching my Young Runners Club.  It's also helped to be inspired by you.  I have been getting out, just not as often as I'd like. 

I can always do better.  So, in my attempt to get into better shape this year I've set a big goal to run the 13.1 NYC half-marathon.

Setting a big goal is a sure-fire way for me to train harder.  When I first started running I set a big goal to run a marathon.  I went from barely being able to run 2 blocks to completing 26.2 miles in nine months.  In my almost seven years as a runner, I've  had to repeatedly set race goals to inspire me to train harder.  Without a race as an end-goal, I'll take things a little too easy.

I've also become a sort of charity runner.  I like to use my running to raise money and awareness for certain causes.  Over the past few years I've raised money for St. Jude's Childrens Hospital, the Lance Armstrong Foundation, the American Heart Association and this year, World Vision.

By setting a big goal and running for a charity I ensure that I stick to a training program.

Today when I go out and run in freezing temperature I'll know that there are many reasons for me to keep going: you and your mom, my health, people in Africa, and simply getting to the finish line.
 
Speaking of finish line, I've gotta go.  Now.  So cold.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

one vote

Dear Chicken Nugget,

I can't say for sure but I'm pretty certain that I've voted in almost every election that's come up since I turned 18 - most of them anyway, there may be one that slipped through the cracks.

The truth is I'm a sort of politics geek.  I love reading up on current happenings in the political world and have been known to make a comparison chart of candidates to help me make my choice on election day.

Still, there are things that upset me - like incumbents that should be gone but are too powerful for opponents to even enter a race and single-candidate elections where I know very little of the lone candidate.  This happens often in small races for court positions.  I can't stand seeing a single name for surrogate judge.  Basically the Surrogate Court is in charge of wills, estates, and unclaimed properties.  The judge is elected to a ten-year term and, usually, we know very little about the candidate.

Last year I took a stand.  I looked up all the candidates in all the elections and found very little about the candidate for surrogate judge.  How can I, as a responsible voter, elect someone to a position without knowing about their character or values?

So, I wrote myself in:

If you take a close look I'm in good company.  Although I lost by over 12,000 votes to the lone candidate, I tied with Obi-Wan Kenobi, Ralph Nader, Beelzebub, Jay Leno, Frank Zappa, Boba Fett, Bono the Boston Terrier, and, my favorite, Peter.  Mickey Mouse got me by a vote.

I hate mice.

Next election, I'm taking that mouse down.

Eternally yours,

Tu papa

Murophobia

Dear Chicken Nugget,

For the last five days your mom and I have been terrorized by a mouse in the house.  I first caught a quick glimpse of him running from the couch to the space between the desk and cabinet near where I was sitting.  This, of course, led me to hop on the couch and squeal like a little girl.  Your dad, Nugget, suffers from murophobia - the fear of mice and rats.

I sprung into action and ran across the street to buy half a dozen sticky glue traps.  I laid them out wherever I thought Mr. Mouse might travel.  When we went to bed that night, I spent a good amount of time lying awake and listening to every little sound in the apartment.  I can't stand rodents.

As you get older I have no doubt that any of my former roommates will share with you a gazillion stories about me and mice.  New Yorkers have the unfortunate experience of having to often live with rodent pests.  My roommates have gotten a number of good laughs from my reactions to these disease-infested creatures.

After a few nights of terror and buying fancier traps, we finally caught the little guy last night.  We had seen him scurry under the desk and your mom suggested we lay a glue trap down there.  I put the trap down, walked to the kitchen to put another one down, and by the time I got back, the trap had moved.  As I got closer to inspect it, the mouse squeaked and tried to escape from its gluey trap.  I froze.

Your mom was already in bed with you and called out, "Did we catch him?"

"Yep," I replied from atop the couch.

"Bag him and take him out to the trash," she said.

"I can't.  He's fighting back," I said, voice shaky.

"That's what you're supposed to do when you're fighting for your life."

Thanks.

"Take a another sticky trap, throw it on top, and place the whole thing in a plastic bag," she suggested.

I did just that but the little guy turned his head and tried to gnaw through the trap.  Freaked.  Me.  Out.  A tiny part of me felt bad.  His little beady black eyes asked for forgiveness.  A bigger part of me was scared and disgusted.  Still, with his front paws pulling on a printer cable, holding on for dear life, I didn't have it in me to struggle with the mouse.

Your mom got out of bed, grabbed a broom (to stun him, she declared), and managed to bag the little mouse in less than five seconds.  She's my hero, your mom.  While she was double bagging the mouse, making it safe for me to carry out to the trash, you began to cry.  I picked you up and stood with you on top of the couch while your mom saved us from sure pestilence. 

Then, the saint that she is, she took a picture.

Papi saving Nugget from the bubonic plague

I managed to build up enough courage to take the mouse out to the trash.  And, despite my complete fear and revulsion, I said a little prayer for it.

You and your mom went back to bed and I stayed up at the desk doing work, happy to have finally rid ourselves of the mouse.

About an hour later, I saw something moving from the corner of my eye.  Yes, another mouse.  Letting out a ridiculous bellow, I tip-toe hopped to our bed where I told your mom what I had just seen and lay awake for half the night listening for Mr. Mouse's vengeful family.

I hate mice.  I hope we catch all of them so that you can live in a safe, healthy apartment free of plague.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

published

Dear Chicken Nugget,

You are now four months old and making giant leaps in your awareness of the world.  You recently started watching with interest what your mom and I do with our hands - things like writing, typing, and eating.  It's fun watching you try to figure out what we're doing and we know that soon you're going to want to do the same things.

Yesterday, at lunch, you were sitting on my lap and you reached out for the bowl of pesto pasta I was eating.  You got a good grip and pulled it towards you.  We had to tug pretty hard to get the bowl of pasta away from you.  It'll be fun when you can start having solid foods of your own.  Soon, very soon.

Sometimes when I type on the computer and you are on my lap, you reach out and tap the keys on the keyboard.  I'm sure my writing needs the help anyway.

Actually, I learned early this morning that something I wrote was published on a blog on the Runner's World magazine site!

I wrote an essay detailing how I started a running club at my school.  The last time I wrote anything sports related for any publication, I was writing for the Sports section of my High School newspaper.  It's been a long time. 

So, your father wrote something that tons of strange people will be reading.  Although for this particular piece, you did not help me, I'm sure that as you grow up and your little arms get longer, the banging on the keyboard is going to translate into someone out there getting an errant email.  Maybe it'll even get published.

Looking forward to reading you my writing and to reading yours.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

shameless self-promotion v. 1

Dear Reader,

This is my first of what may be just a handful of letters addressed to you and not my little Nugget.

I wanted to take the time to thank you for reading, for your comments, and for your support.

When I started writing this blog, it was simply a way for me to chronicle the happenings of a father-to-be and then new-father for myself, my wife, our baby, and our families.  It has since extended to friends, acquaintances, and complete strangers.  I appreciate that.

I know a lot of you are reading these posts as somewhat-automatically updated Notes on my Facebook page - which I'm not frequenting too often these days - and, therefore, are probably missing out on neat stuff happening on the actual blog page.  Whenever you get the chance, please visit the original site, http://www.dearchicky.com/

There are some "features" I've added since this blog began that I'd like to point out:
- There is a PayPal link that allows you to donate to our Nugget's college fund.  We are not, in any way, a non-profit so this donation is not tax-deductible.  I just thought it was fun way to raise money for our Nugget's college tuition.  Feel free to click and donate.
- There is a RoadID button that allows you to check out and shop for a product I believe is necessary for almost anyone. 
- There is a link to BabyEtte, a baby-wearing small business that is family-owned, hand-made, and awesome.  Like it says on the link, we love their products!  Check them out and if you buy something, tell them you heard about them from Dear Chicken Nugget.  We get nothing out of it, we just want them to know how much we love telling folks about their stuff.
- And there's a bunch of other cool stuff like an embedded video of "A Social Network Christmas," a map showing where people are reading the blog, (as far away as Qatar, Japan, and Russia), a link that helps us become a Top Baby Blog, and links to other dad and parenting blogs I enjoy every now and then.

Again, thank you for reading and for your support.  Keep coming back and commenting on Dear Chicken Nugget.


Yours,

Christian

New Year's Resolutions 2011

Dear Chicken Nugget,

As we end the second day of the New Year, I thought I'd lay down my resolutions for this year.  I'll let you hold me accountable to these.

Most people find resolutions fun and pointless.  They're a great way to reboot your personal goals but since there's no accountability, most people drop their resolutions within weeks.

To help keep me accountable, I'll offer you this:

For every resolution I do not keep, I will give you $100 cash.  I usually make ten resolutions a year, for a potential $1000 cash every year until you turn 18.  

Deal?  You just smiled at me, so I'll take that as a yes.

So, without further ado, my New Year's Resolutions of 2011:

1) Be a good father.
2) Be a good husband.
3) Run nine NYRR-scored races and volunteer for one NYRR event.  This will help me gain guaranteed entry into the 2012 NYC Marathon.
4) Become a certified USATF Level 1 Running Coach in order to better teach my Running Club kids.
5) Clean up the back room, or "man cave" as your mom calls it, once a month.
6) Finish reading the Bible, with Facebook breaks allowed only in between books.
7) Exercise every day unless illness requires rest - your mom will have to judge "illness" on this one.
8) Get my cholesterol checked at least four times this year.
9)  Donate blood at least four times this year.  Note to self: Don't do the cholesterol check and blood donation on the same day.
10) Dance with you at least once a day.

I hope to be able to complete all ten resolutions this year.  In the long run I hope you'll understand that me completing these ten resolutions is more important than the cash you'll earn from me breaking them.  Still, it's a good way to keep me focused.

Two days down and you still have earned no cash from me - off to a good start.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

oh the way we fly

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Happy New Year!  You are now officially in 2011.

A lot has happened since I last wrote:

- you went to your first party (my staff holiday party)
- we flew to Nebraska for Christmas break
- you celebrated your first Christmas
- you were baptized in Nebraska
- you met a whole lot of family
- we went on our first zoo trip together, in Omaha, NE
- you celebrated your first New Year

I'll have to write about these individually later since I had little time to sit and write during all this fun.

I will say a little something about our flying experience...

I'm not a fan of flying.  At some point in my life I wanted to be a pilot, and even an astronaut, but as I grew older and realized that my nearsightedness was going to prevent me from piloting an airplane or shuttle, I had to settle for being a passenger.  Here's the thing, I have control issues.  If the plane swings from one side to the other, gets bumpy, or drops a few feet in altitude, I... flip... out.

Not in a big way.  But, I will put my hand on your mom's knee and squeeze a little.  I'd like to believe that if I was sitting at the controls, I wouldn't be needing reassurance.  That might create an awkward moment between me and the co-pilot.

However, taking you on your first plane ride was a very different experience.  We had one layover on our way to Nebraska and one on the way back to New York - four planes in all.

I only had to grab your mom's knee once.  Not that the plane rides were perfectly smooth.  It was that all our attention was on you.  Flying with a 3 1/2 month old is hard work.  Every step of the way, from packing luggage, checking in at the counter, boarding, to simple things like sitting, diaper changes, and getting off the plane felt three times harder with you.  And, you were a dream baby... for most of the flights.

On three of the four flights we probably looked like parents who knew what they were doing.  We even got compliments on how great a baby you were.  Then came the fourth and final flight.

We took our seats in row 12 and prepared for takeoff.  The lady sitting next to me looked at you and did one of those "isn't that baby cute" shrugs.  As the plane started to roll your mom tried feeding you to help you deal with pressure changes, a system that worked well for the three other flights.  You refused to eat.  And you started to cry.  The lady next to me did one of those half smiles with a pout, as if to say, "aww, precious."

The crying went on.  We tried changing positions.  We tried singing.  We tried showing you a toy.  We tried everything we could think of.  And you cried.  The tall guy sitting in front of us turned around a few times to see what was going on behind him - his face more annoyed than concerned.  You continued to cry.

The lady next to us stopped looking over with those "cute baby" glances and she put her headphones on.  I finally put you in a sleepy time position, the last thing either of us thought you were, and within a minute you were asleep. 

For all the crying you did, I think your mom and I did pretty well.  Although we were aware that for the first time in our brief and limited flying experience, you were "that crying baby" we ignored all the glances and head-shakings and focused on you.

You, my Nugget, are a lot of work.  A lot.  And I wouldn't change it for anything in the world.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa