As many of you know, we are expecting our second pink bundle of spit up, I mean joy, later this year. If you're anything like me, 2 tiny pink lines sent you scurrying to the nearest baby name book to begin preparing for the monumental task of (Cue echoey announcer voice) Naming Your Child.
Sidebar - don't you wish your life had sound effects, like danger music? It would make it soo much easier to identify bad decisions. But I digress.
Now I take naming my kids seriously - probably too seriously. Far too seriously to even consider burdening my child with a common, generic, or * shudder * trendy moniker (no offense to the Avas, Sophies, and Graces out there). In fact, it gives me nightmares to even think that my child may have to someday choose to be a Jen, Jenny, or Jennifer H.! With Miss Chatterbox, I took any name I was considering to the social security website and if it came in anywhere in the top 1000 names for the last 20 years, I immediately crossed it off my list. Yeah, overkill, I know, but we all have those "things" we are weird about, right? Ultimately, Miss Chatterbox ended up with a name that perfectly reflects her personality- strong, driven and memorable.
With my "perfect" name already taken, naming The Bun has seemed to be a herculean task. After explaining this to a friend, she calmly suggested, in typical southern fashion, that I look to my family tree for inspiration. Riiiiiight. Of course, she would have no way of knowing the names in my family span from simply "country" to "redneck" to "cruel and unusual punishment". No, really. We have Daisy Mae (great grandma), Lottie June, Aunt (pronouced ain't) Thelma and Uncle Fineus, Uncle Boone (first name Daniel) and who could forget my great Aunts Ilene (pronounced eye-lean), Earlene, and Merlene. Yeah...and this is just a sample - I won't even delve into the misspelt and creatively punctuated.
Another friend suggested that The Bun's name have meaning or a story to it. Well, I did give that some thought, however, most of my "stories" wouldn't lend themselves to names. Talkative Bar Patron, Firetruck, and Things my Students Say don't really have that special ring to it, if you know what I mean. Same friend then suggested that I wait until The Bun comes out of the oven (HAHA - I like puns) to see if a name fits. Well, I don't know about you, but my kids have had distinctive personalities - in utero. I don't believe I will have to "see her" to know if a name is gonna fit.
So where does The Firefighter fit into all of this, you ask? Nowhere. For starters, he refused to participate in name game before the gender was determined - his loss. Well shoot, by then I practically had Miss Chatterbox's name written in stone. So, my theory has been something like this: I baked them, I birthed them, and by golly I'm gonna name 'em. But don't worry Bun, mommy has a great name picked out for you.
Can I get an AMEN?