Theories on Nesting and Naming

Holy 1st trimester symptoms, Batman. My boobs hurt, I’m exhausted, I’m queasy (though mercifully, haven’t puked in weeks). To make matters worse, I had become accustomed to at least occasional baby kicks erupting like popcorn, but haven’t felt him really move in days. The doppler tells me he’s still alive-and-not-kicking, so he must be sleeping through a grown spurt or something. Punk.

Anyway, since the big I’m-growing-a-penis news and my subsequent disappointment about the clothing options presented for my male child, I have been on a boy clothes shopping spree. There really is cute stuff out there if you look for it. I hit up garage sales and snagged a ton of great stuff for mega cheap, including a never worn three-piece suit for a baby. It’s absurd and adorable.

While most of the boy clothing categories are transportation, sports, and animals, I’ve been able to find a small cache of nerdy clothes suitable for whatever child we will bring forth. When I say nerdy, I mean stuff like a onesie with a robot playing guitar, little Star Trek uniforms with screen printed communicator badges, and an argyle sweater vest. The other category I am enjoying is the dog subset of the animal category. Dogs will get me every time, ESPECIALLY if they resemble my black lab.

Garage sales have also been great for satiating my nesting urges without dropping a ton of cash before my baby shower. For example, I would never have purchased a wipes warmer–but for $2?  Eh, why the hell not? A Moby Wrap for $10? Sure. Throw in some booties and a book, and we have a deal. Pinterest is also helpful in this regard, especially for the nursery ideas. If you can’t buy it, DIY-it, or frame it now, just pin it with a vague hope that you’ll have the time someday. I’m really excited about getting my nursery looking cute and welcoming. Nevermind that my OWN room is blank and barren and ugly. Baby’s room is going to be the shiz.

We’ve also been on the search for baby boy names. It’s easy for me to be smitten by girls’ names. If we had 25 baby girls, I could, without effort even, give each one of them a beautiful name. Boy names are much more difficult. Like boy’s clothing, there seem to be fewer options.  Compounding the difficulty is the fact that we have one of the most common surnames in the US. And just like boy clothing, first names for boys fall into three categories:

1. Common, perfectly acceptable boys’ names like John, James, Matthew, or Michael. No one will give you any weird looks if you name your kids one of these. They’re safe, strong, boy names. The flip side of this is that they will also be way too generic next to a surname of Smith, Brown, or Johnson.

2. Less-common, but still somewhat familiar-sounding names that are: a) taken by your close friends for their babies; b) suddenly becoming absurdly popular or; c) are ruined by some other factor (like your SIL dating one of them) like Henry, Eli, Liam, or Ian.

3. Weird-ass names. Hymen, anyone? Excell? Geronimo? No. I smack you. No.

We’re hoping to find something in category 2 that isn’t ruined, but we have our work cut out for us. Anyway, you must excuse me. I have a sudden desire for something covered in fruit syrup.

A Dream – Puppy, Pregnancy, and Pastries

When we returned from Disneyland, I discovered that my fur baby wasn’t doing so hot.  Fur baby isn’t entirely accurate. She’s a best friend. My relationship with her is not more meaningful than my marriage or my family relationships. But it’s a lot more simple and pure. When she is well, her entire purpose in life is 1) to make me happy and 2) to play. When she is sick, my entire purpose in life is keeping her alive. Incredibly selfish, if you do the math. But she’s family.

Her condition worsened over the weekend, and to make a long story short, she spent the night under a heat blanket, hooked up to IVs at the animal hospital. Getting her safe and warm and in capable hands was relieving. I had spent the whole weekend crying. Not just tearing up, but noisy, guttural, ugly weeping. I knew I adored my dog. But the threat of losing her taught me how much.

After a sleepless night, I took a much needed nap. Now, I don’t want to sound too metaphysical and woo-woo, but I have, more than once, received comfort or revelation from a dream. Like that crazy cat-baby one you may have read about. I don’t know if it’s God sending me Lehi-like visions or just my brain’s way of sorting out problems that are too difficult for waking hours. So cynical as I may be, I believe in my dreams. At least the parts that aren’t completely insane, like detonating bombs or making out with people I haven’t thought about since middle school.

So anyway, during my nap I dreamed that I was walking through a classy version of  a state fair. I passed by entertainment booths, shopping booths, and political action groups. People tried to persuade me to come to their booth, but I respectfully declined. Instead, I walked purposefully to the building where I was about to deliver my first child.  My dog was by my side, healthy and happy.  I was happy. Hugely pregnant, I was gorgeous.  I was at peace. Before labor and delivery, I met up with DH at the cafeteria of the building–which by the way had excellent pastries and soul food dishes. We consumed them with glee and I woke up.

Family and food. It was like a dream dream. The kind of aspirational yet comforting dream that cheesy Disney songs are about. Well. . . all except for the part where I had to tell a gay man that he couldn’t have my Napoleon. That part was just insane. 🙂