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

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