40 weeks in the belly

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Today you've been in the belly for 40 weeks - which means that today is your due date!  It's now almost 10pm, so unless you're taking the Express Train out, it seems Patrick Swayze was wrong.  That's OK.

Since your mom is a doula, she knows a lot about birth, including the fact that first pregnancies usually go a few days late.  The good news is, we know that you're probably going to be late, we're patient, your mom feels great, and we still love you.

You're probably the size of a small pumpkin now and have a good amount of hair.  Still, all the physical attributes I've written about so far have been straight up guesses.  We have no idea who you look like and won't know until you join us.

We love you and can't wait to meet you... whenever that is.


Eternally yours,

Tu papa

Be the best

Dear Chicken Nugget,

I haven't written about this yet, but I have a side project from my regular teaching career.  I am an Arbitration Advocate.  I help represent colleagues from the teachers' union and try to get them their jobs or benefits back.

I've been thinking a lot about this and it's one of those jobs where you have to be your best all the time.  Much like teaching.  And, a lot like parenting, I imagine.

In an arbitration hearing someone's career may be at stake.  In teaching, there's 25 kids wanting to learn.  And as a parent, there's you.  You're going to demand the best, I will do my best to be the best, or more.

If I should fall short on occasion, I'll have your mom by my side to whip me back into shape.  I fully expect parenting to be hard and I can't wait to take it on.

And, when the time comes, I hope to lead by example and help you be the best at whatever it is you want to be the best at.


Trying my best,

Tu papa

World Cup Break

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Once again, I find myself writing after a long hiatus.  I apologize for the lack of letters over the last few weeks.  I do have a good excuse though, the World Cup!

Nugget, the World Cup 2010 just ended yesterday (Spain beat the Netherlands, 1-0, and are now the World Champions) and the next one won't happen until 2014.  By the time the next World Cup comes around you will be around four years old and on your way to school, God-willing. 

I hope that by that point you will be able to join me in watching the excitement that is World Cup soccer.  I hope that you'll enjoy futbol as much as I do. 

I'd like to think that my letter writing won't drop off during the World Cup 2014, but I make no promises.  The good thing is that you'll already be around and understanding most of the words coming out of my mouth.  So, even if letters aren't being written, you'll be experiencing the action alongside me.

Now that the World Cup is over, I'll use the free time I spent watching soccer to instead build furniture for your room, clean out the apartment, and get other things ready for your arrival.

I'm looking forward to sharing World Cup excitement with you in four years!


Eternally yours,

Your papa

Painting for You

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Tonight my good friend Bob helped me to paint your room.  I sent your mom away to stay with friends for the evening so that she didn't have to breathe in the fumes that come from paint.  So, two good friends got to work and painted the room.

It becomes more real every day that you are on your way.  With just ten weeks left until your estimated time of arrival, I'm getting more and more excited.

Today at work, my colleagues threw a surprise Wedding Shower x 2 for weddings coming up amongst our staff and a Baby Shower x 2 for the babies that are joining us soon.  It was great to hear well wishes for you and we even got some books that your mom and I will read to you when you get here, Nugget.

As Bob and I painted the walls I thought about how this was a task for the "boys" - a good bonding experience where a friend helps a friend get ready for his first child.  But, it also hit me how wonderfully unbelievable it is that I'm getting a room ready for you.  I'm getting your room ready.  How awesome is that?

Well, Chicky, I hope you like it.  I know you probably won't care much for the colors your mom and I picked; at least, not until you develop your own sense of color scheme and likes.  But, I do hope that the room we're putting together for you serves you well.  I hope you will have fun in that room.  I hope that you'll sleep well in that room.  It's yours when you're ready for it.

Getting ready for 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
 

Dear Little Ducky

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Last night I had a strange but cute dream about you.  Your mom and I were going to the hospital because we got a phone call saying that you had been born.

When we arrived they brought out a little bed where a little duckling had hatched out of an egg.  The duckling was still halfway out of the egg, but its feathers were dry and fluffy.  The little duckling was our baby and I was so happy that it had arrived.

The colorful little duckling was following us wherever we walked.  Everyone in the dream who asked us about our baby seemed to be completely OK with the fact that our baby was a duck.  And, I was proud of my little duckling.

So, chicken nugget, when you're older and have your degree in Psychology you can analyze the dream all you want.  But, personally, I think it means that we're going to love you no matter what.

Waddle on.

Eternally yours,


Your papa

what if?

Dear Chicken Nugget,

Your mom and I have been having fun with "What if?" scenarios recently.  Basically if we see something on TV, in the street, or experience it in person, we ask, "What if baby (that's you) does  _____?"  Basically, we're trying to ready our responses to different situations that may arise.

Some have been simple and easy, like, "What if our baby boy decides he wants to try modern African dance?"  Answer: "We find a modern African dance instructor and encourage him to do his best."

Others take a little more thought.  Like, "What if baby comes home at the age of 16 with a piercing through her cheek?"  Answer: "Send her to grandma's house and hope she comes back alive."

We're actually thinking of compiling our What-ifs so that we can refer to them if we ever need them.  There may be some benefit to writing down our thinking now at ages 29 & 30 and comparing it to our thinking when we get to our 40s or 50s.

We've got some wisdom to absorb in the next couple of decades and I hope the end-result is a happy, healthy piercing-free childhood for you.

No piercings until you're thirty!

Eternally yours,

Your papa

Dear Chicken Nugget

Dear Chicken Nugget,

The letters that follow will hopefully teach you something from my own life experiences and, where there is nothing to learn, I hope it helps explain the crazy father you have.

I decided to write these letters because I want you to have a record of our excitement and joy as we prepare for your arrival.  I want you to know what your parents were like before you got to know them.  I want you to know that they were young once too and have experienced many of the things you will experience.  I want you to know that we loved you even before we met you.

I grew up without a father (he passed away before I was born) and I would have cherished letters from him.  As I have none, I hope to give you that and more.

Someday, when you read these letters - and you'll only have access to these when you're old enough to understand them - I hope you'll chuckle at the idea that I started calling you "chicken nugget" at a time when I was basically a vegan.  Your mom and I found out on New Years Day 2010 that she was pregnant.  Having no clue what you looked like, how big you were, or what shape you had, I called you "chicken nugget."  And whenever I talked to you through your mom's belly that's what I called you.  I apologize now for whatever damage this causes on your character.

I am very much looking forward to your arrival, whenever that may be, as is your mom.  We can't wait but will hopefully use the next six months wisely as we prepare.

Eternally yours,

Tu papa