"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