Tag Archives: pregnancy

Let the baby-naming wars begin

My sister Heidi and her husband Mike, as the first bearers of the next generation in both families, get their pick of baby names. They have chosen the gosh darn best name ever for the Bun—good work, kids. Meanwhile, my sister Erica and I are stewing over the fact that there is 1 less awesome name to choose from for our future progeny, especially since we all seem to be going (or wanting to go) the biblical route. Stewing, I tell you! Well, at least we stewed together once–and Erica may well have recovered since then. And did we actually have this conversation I seem to remember . . . or am I making it up? Why is it so hard to remember any specifics all of a sudden? Did I dream this? It this an early onset of Alzheimers? Have I ever really talked to Erica before?? Am I losing my mind!?

Excuse me while I hop off the train tracks that lead to insanity and return to the mental forest of peace and little furry animals. Ommmmm . . . ommmmmm . . . ommmmm . . . Yes, I am taking you on a blogging journey through my brain, and I can only hope there are no casualties.

But moving on! The only thing I dislike about the biblical path is that there aren’t as many fantastic girl names to choose from as one might like, especially since I’m nixing Rahab up front. Great woman, but folks—she did start things off as a prostitute. And while I personally don’t hold that against her (and in fact greatly admire the woman), I sense that this child’s classmates, despite their general lack of biblical knowledge, would quickly zero in on the book of Joshua, discover this little tidbit, and use it to little Rahab’s detriment on the playground. And being called a “prostitute” . . . well, it’s no girl’s idea of a good time.

Ever since my sisters and I were little, the subject of baby names has been a favorite and controversial topic. At various points in my youth I wanted to name my children (who would inevitably be girls) “Tzeitel” (from Fiddler on the Roof) and “Anemone” (as in the plant thingy that grows in the ocean–or is it an animal? You never know with those weird tubular looking things). “Moonbeam” and “Starlight” were probably right up there for me as well. Heidi favored the name “Lilypad” (note to concerned family members: not a name in the running for The Bun–but only ’cause it ain’t biblical). However, Erica set me straight when she recommended the following names for my future children: Poofball and Explosivo.

You know, looking at Erica’s baby pictures, I think this one could have been called Poofball:

Poofball primping in the bathtub.

And this one could have easily been named Explosivo:

Explosivo sporting her first pair of high heels.

One summer many years ago, Erica and I sat down with a baby name book and garnered some brilliant ideas. I recently rediscovered the piece of paper on which we wrote them all down–interestingly enough, it was stuffed between the pages of a hefty hardcover Bible that I have long forsaken in favor of my smaller, purple, purse-friendly TNIV (or as I like to call it, my ‘Tiny NIV’). Does that mean something? Something about the authority of Scripture over the children we had planned all these names for? Something about naming your child Amos after the prophet and not Gewürztraminer after your favorite wine? Is it a sign?

I think it just means I didn’t want the list to get wrinkled in my purse, but you can never be too sure.

Anyway, the names on the list that follows were our absolute favorites, and I just know Erica and Dave will draw from this reserve to name their football-team posse of kiddos. I will put the meanings of these marvelous names to the right.

Carny Bertie                                   Happy winning

Nutan Odelette                             Heart melodic

Pabiola Dajón                                Small gifted girl

Eppy Snooks                                  Lively, always “on”

Smiley Gobnat                              Gobnat means “cuddly”

Dempsey Benedicta                    Respected and blessed

In a fit of inspiration, we added two gratuitous made-up names to the list which might just top the charts. I have added my personal interpretation of their meanings:

Kodak Klarkokardiac                  Photographic heart attack

Gladiola Laudiola                         Applauded garden flower

It’ll be hard to narrow it down, but personally, I’m thinking of going with “Smiley Gobnat”. I’ve always wanted a smiling, cuddly-faced child. Plus, we can call him “Gob” for short. Or her! I think “Gob” would work well for either gender. All I can say is, it’s a mad rush to snatch up the top baby names. A mad rush, I tell you.

These two munchkins could very well have been named Eppy Snooks and Nutan Odelette. . . though Eppy is not looking very “on”. I was probably grumpy because Erica got the cute little bear suit.

Yes, it’s taken me years to get over coveting that bear suit.

Dave fights dirty

My new brother-in-law Dave has turned the tables. Some of you may recall my baby-making instigation right before their wedding in which I urged the general public to push Dave and Erica towards multiplying and filling the earth.

About a week later I was calmly riding the bus on a hot Sunday when my cell phone buzzed. My sisters are pretty much the only sources of texts on my phone, so I was surprised to see an unfamiliar number. Curious, I opened it, not knowing the torrent I was about to tap into.

I relay to you the content; “D” is each new text from Dave:

D: Hi jenna its dave, erica and I have exciting news-we’re going to have another little nephew or niece! SO EXCITED! So get crackalackin! We await the good news!

Side note: I was very confused here, since our sister Heidi is indeed pregnant, but nobody else in either family is. I didn’t realize at the time that he was using what is called “assumptive language” in the sales industry. Talk like it’s going to happen, and chances are much higher that it will.

Me: Heidi is having twins??? And you two had better get “crackalacking” yourselves in 1 week!

D: Little hands and little feet-so cute. The world needs your progeny.

D: Tiny baby curls . . .

Me: Are you trying to brainwash me?

D: Teeny little shoes

Me: Stop! Stop! I know exactly what you’re up to Dave!

D: Itty bitty feeties

D: PINCHABLE CHEEKS!

D: Aaaaaaaaand . . . GO!!

Me: Thankfully my hubby is out of town this weekend. By the time he returns tuesday this brainwashing session will have lost its effect . . .

D: Maybe you’ll start getting random baby catalogs in the mail…just sayin

Me: What!?!? You little manipulator!!

D: Yeah. We are prepared to fight dirty.

D: Imagine tiny fingers wrapped around your man’s pinky…

D: How precious would that be?

D: Teeny tiny itty bitty scrunched up noses …

D: Little noses scrunched up right before a little sneeze …

Judge for yourselves, but Dave does indeed fight dirty. Who can withstand the onslaught of imagery in these texts? Powerful stuff, man.

Later that evening I started telling the story to a friend at church. I pulled out my phone and showed her the long line of texts from the same number. I meant it to be funny, but instead of laughing as I expected to do, suddenly I started crying as the image of tiny fingers curled around my husband’s pinky took hold. With the threat of a lagoon of mascara, I grabbed a tissue and tried to pad away any black streaks.

Dave made me cry. And he almost made me really mess up my make-up.

This all means something–but what??

About a week later, I got a follow up text that just said:

D: *achoo*

Then about a month went by. I thought he had probably forgotten about our little battle. But don’t let the innocent looks of this young couple fool you.

They’re just not to be trusted. My 5 year wedding anniversary rolled around, and whaddya know–my phone went “ka-bling.” I had a new text.

D: Happy anniversary! Just think, sweet little baby toes, soft baby ringlets, and a sweet baby voice chirping happily and cooing . . .

3 hours went by. My phone went “ka-bling” again.

D: . . . Little one all snoozy and snuggly warm in footie pajamas, wrapping his baby arms around your neck and nuzzling his precious face into your shoulder . . .

D: Are you ignoring me??

Me: Um…yeah! That’s what my mom told me to do with bullies!

D: Hey!! I’m your sister!

Me: Using Dave’s phone, eh?

D: Yes. I have no coverage with mine and his job doesn’t allow them.

Me: Was it ever Dave sending these, or was it you all along?

D: Him til today.

So there you go, folks. My sister has been revealed to be a manipulating baby-instigator as well. Dave, I’m sorry, I thought you were the only one fighting dirty. But it turns out you have corrupted Erica via being married to her, turning my own flesh and blood against me. I knew there was going to be trouble the moment that whippersnapper was born. I was completely justified in the suspicion you can see written all over my 2-year-old face.

You just wait Dave and Erica, because I have plans. Plans to, um . . . to um . . .

I mean, aren’t babies just the cutest thing? And aren’t young families just precious??

. . . but let’s stay focused here people.

I’d also like to mention that after reading my Blokus post in which I confessed to being a competitive game-player, Erica told me that Dave has decided to challenge me to all sorts of board and card games and take me down. Dave, this blog was not designed to give you the keys to my demise. But I am realizing that I may have unwittingly given them to you anyway. Thinking I was simply sharing my heart, I was actually revealing my Achilles heel to a man who apparently must win at everything, be it baby-instigating wars or game-playing tournaments. I’m starting to be afraid. Very afraid. Erica, who did you marry? And why must he win all the time?? I should have known he was a punk the minute this picture crossed my email account:

If Dave beats me at Dutch Blitz, I will be forced to retreat to a hermit’s cave and suck on my toes for the next 5 years. And lemme tell you, my husband wouldn’t appreciate that one bit, and would shortly become malnourished based on his exclusive diet of ham sandwiches, apples, and carrots. Do you want to be responsible for that, Dave? Huh?

OK (breathing slowly). Let’s make peace, Dave.

But I will completely smash you at Dutch Blitz.