Very rough night for both kids (and thus, parents.) But this morning, Sally discovered her shadow and investigated it with great zeal. Then Walter came and snuggled with us ... when she started grabbing his ear, I picked her up and moved her away from him. "Wah-Bah!" she said, reaching for her brother.
No repeat performance of this naming as of yet, but we were all pretty pleased with it in the moment.
Showing posts with label names. Show all posts
Showing posts with label names. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Remembering Great Aunt Sally
My name is Annie Edison-Albright, I’m a
Lutheran pastor and one of Sally’s great nieces. At John's funeral last year Sally asked me to speak at her funeral. I wish I'd thought to ask her what she wanted me to say. Mostly, I just wish I could ask her, now, and listen to her stories one more time. But, if we all go to lunch after this and share our stories about Sally, I believe we will all have done right by her. She would like that.
As Pastor Lee mentioned, Sally had two siblings: a sister 10
years older than her, Norma, and a brother 7 years younger, Charlie. Norma was my grandma,
my Umma. She died in 1992 at the age of 72, and Sally arranged for a basket of 72
daffodils to brighten up the funeral home on that snowy March day, a day just like this one. You can see that there are 84 daffodils next to Sally's casket; those are given by Sally's nieces and nephews, but really, they come from her sister. The story behind the
daffodils is a beautiful one, and it’s a very Sally kind of story.
When Norma turned 25, Sally wanted to do
something really special for her big sister’s birthday. The process of “wiring”
flowers to someone was new, then, and Sally used her own money to wire a dozen daffodils to
Norma at her office. Norma was delighted. Spring flowers in February. What could be more
wonderful? Their frugal mother, however, was not delighted. Sally caught the dickens
from her mom, who was shocked by the waste and extravagance of the flowers. She said it showed a terrible lack of common sense to spend so much money on cut flowers that were just going to die in a couple of days.
The next time Norma came home, she met Sally at the door and said “that
was the best birthday gift, ever.” Sally said, “I’m glad you liked them, but I’m not sending you
flowers again until you’re 50!”
On Norma’s fiftieth birthday she
received daffodils from Sally with a note: “that was a fast 25 years.”
At Norma’s visitation, Sister Rosemary Rombalski saw the basket of 72 daffodils and knew there was a story. She sat and talked to Sally and then gave a devotion connecting Sally’s extravagant gift with the extravagant love of Jesus Christ, connecting Sally’s best birthday gift ever and the gift of eternal life. I was 11 years old and I'll never forget it: "This is Norma's best birthday, ever," she said. There’s a daffodil etched on Norma’s tombstone as a reminder both of her little sister’s love and the love of God. Now, Sally has joined Norma, and Charlie, and Blitz and John, in receiving the gift of eternal life. The love of God is like daffodils in winter, like the joy we have when we talk about Sally today, even though we miss her.
 |
| Arrangement of 72 daffodils at Umma's funeral |
At Norma’s visitation, Sister Rosemary Rombalski saw the basket of 72 daffodils and knew there was a story. She sat and talked to Sally and then gave a devotion connecting Sally’s extravagant gift with the extravagant love of Jesus Christ, connecting Sally’s best birthday gift ever and the gift of eternal life. I was 11 years old and I'll never forget it: "This is Norma's best birthday, ever," she said. There’s a daffodil etched on Norma’s tombstone as a reminder both of her little sister’s love and the love of God. Now, Sally has joined Norma, and Charlie, and Blitz and John, in receiving the gift of eternal life. The love of God is like daffodils in winter, like the joy we have when we talk about Sally today, even though we miss her.
When I think of Sally, I think of the bright beauty of daffodils, and I think of joy. My first impressions of her were very much formed
by my grandma, who was completely smitten with her little sister. “Sally was the
most beautiful child any of us had ever seen,” she’d say. “She looked like Shirley Temple.”
One of the stories Norma liked to tell
was about Sally’s first day at the one room schoolhouse. Norma worked with Sally to
get her ready for the big day and taught her how to spell her name. S-A-L-L-Y. When Sally
got to school, the teacher had everyone’s name written on the blackboard. “Can anyone
come up and show me their name?” asked the teacher. One by one each student went up
to the board and pointed. Sally stayed in her seat. “Don’t you see your name?” asked
the teacher. Sally said, confidently, “No. My name is not up there.” “Yes it is!” said the
teacher, pointing.
Sally came home for lunch and was very
upset. “What’s wrong?” asked her sister. “I don’t think I’m going to learn anything from
that teacher,” said Sally. “She thinks my name is Eleanor.”
That moment was the source of Sally’s
often-quoted advice: Name your children what you intend to call them!
 |
| Me, Mom, Sally and Baby Sally |
The name Sally means “princess,” but to
me it’s always meant “beloved little sister.” When my husband and I found out our second
child would be a girl there was no question what her name would be. We named her Sally,
hoping that our little girl would take after my smart, funny, loving Aunt Sally, and
also that our baby Sally would be as loved by her big brother as Aunt Sally was by her big
sister.
To us, “Sally” means beloved sister,
beloved aunt. It means beloved wife, mom, grandma, great grandma. It means beloved
colleague, classmate and friend. But Sally’s real name was this: Beloved Child of God. She received that
name at her baptism. She lived out that name every day of her life, in all the ways she
cared for others and embodied God’s love. And when she died, that’s the name God used to
welcome her into eternal life. It’s a name she shares with all of us, a name that connects us as
God’s big family, both on earth and in heaven.
The prophet Isaiah writes: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you. I
have called you by name, you are mine.
Sally was named and claimed a beloved
child of God. Thanks be to God for a life lived in love. Amen.
Some memories of the day: just like when my Umma died in 1992, there was a snowstorm. The snow came down sideways outside the church windows and people were nervous about getting home. Even though the worst of the weather came right at the time for us to gather for the service, the church was full of family and friends, including many members of Sally's high school class who she'd kept in touch with over the years. Baby Sally was still struggling with her first real illness, a bug we think was RSV, and had trouble nursing but was very good and sweet through the long day. Umma Sue sang "In The Garden." Baba Paul took care of baby Sally and walked and played with her during the service. Sally's children and grandchildren were glad to meet baby Sally, and took turns holding her and telling her to be entirely and unapologetically herself, just like her namesake. To be just as feisty and funny and independent as she could be. It was hard to be there without Sally's son, John, who died last April. The Edisons were there, including baby Sally's godfather, Craig. It was good to be together.
 |
| Sally holding me. |
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Walter claims his name
Just a quick note to note that Walter started calling himself "Walter" this past Saturday. I wish I'd written down the circumstances of the first time he did it. He said it so clearly and precisely, and looked at me and Sean while he did to make sure he'd gotten it right. Since then he's consistently and frequently referred to himself using his name, including his ongoing experiments with the possessive ("Walter shoe.") My favorite so far: he likes to play with a puzzle piece of a bus and tell me who is on the bus. This weekend when we got home from Umma and Baba's house he picked up the bus and said, "Mama!"
"Is Mama on the bus?" I said. "Who else is on the bus?"
"Dada."
"Who else?"
"Baba."
"Who else?"
"Umma?"
"Who else?"
"Walter."
That is one great bus.
He's not calling himself "Dadu," anymore, but we still use it sometimes as an endearment, and he doesn't seem to mind that.
Other weekend highlights: a visit with my Soul Sister, Heidi, her mom, her new baby ("Baby Anna!" says Walter.) and Bennett, Walter's Soul Brother. Walter was so very alarmed when I was holding Anna and she started to cry. Big eyes. "Uppaday!" he said, trying to climb up on my lap to save the baby from me. Later, Walter picked out a baby doll at the store and has since been practicing giving her bottles, giving her a pacifier, singing and reading to her and putting her in a shoe box to sleep. He wants to call her "Sally," of course, but we're encouraging the name "baby" to avoid confusion down the road. The doll came with a small stuffed animal, a dog, which Walter also wanted to name Sally. This, too, we gently discouraged.
We had a nice video call on Monday evening with some of Sean's family members who were gathered at the shore for the holiday weekend. Walt is quite taken with his cousin, Casey, who is five. A couple of times since that call he's said, "Love you, Casey!" Pretty sweet.
It's thunderstorming tonight, but so far all dogs and small children in this house have slept through the rumbling and the worst of it seems to have passed. Time for Mamas and Dadas to hit the hay, too. Sally, on the other hand, just woke up. Time for some womb snuggling, I think.
"Is Mama on the bus?" I said. "Who else is on the bus?"
"Dada."
"Who else?"
"Baba."
"Who else?"
"Umma?"
"Who else?"
"Walter."
That is one great bus.
He's not calling himself "Dadu," anymore, but we still use it sometimes as an endearment, and he doesn't seem to mind that.
Other weekend highlights: a visit with my Soul Sister, Heidi, her mom, her new baby ("Baby Anna!" says Walter.) and Bennett, Walter's Soul Brother. Walter was so very alarmed when I was holding Anna and she started to cry. Big eyes. "Uppaday!" he said, trying to climb up on my lap to save the baby from me. Later, Walter picked out a baby doll at the store and has since been practicing giving her bottles, giving her a pacifier, singing and reading to her and putting her in a shoe box to sleep. He wants to call her "Sally," of course, but we're encouraging the name "baby" to avoid confusion down the road. The doll came with a small stuffed animal, a dog, which Walter also wanted to name Sally. This, too, we gently discouraged.
We had a nice video call on Monday evening with some of Sean's family members who were gathered at the shore for the holiday weekend. Walt is quite taken with his cousin, Casey, who is five. A couple of times since that call he's said, "Love you, Casey!" Pretty sweet.
It's thunderstorming tonight, but so far all dogs and small children in this house have slept through the rumbling and the worst of it seems to have passed. Time for Mamas and Dadas to hit the hay, too. Sally, on the other hand, just woke up. Time for some womb snuggling, I think.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Symptoms include ...
The Mayo Clinic Guide to Terrifying Pregnant People says to expect these things during the second trimester:
Vivid, unpleasant dreams
Check! Although they haven't been as bad as my usual anxiety nightmares, just more life-like and frantic. I'm usually doing something that requires a tremendous amount of energy, like directing a high school musical. I wake up exhausted. This morning, though, I had an incredibly vivid dream that I was eating oatmeal. Then I woke up and ate some oatmeal for breakfast (and some for lunch, too.) What a helpful dream!
GERD
Heartburn, baby. Acid reflux-o-rama. Did you know that all good foods cause heartburn? Oatmeal seems to be a notable exception. Milk and chocolate are both on the list of foods to avoid, but for some reason chocolate milk seems to be all good for me and Scooter. Scooter also likes peanut butter cup blizzards, chocolate milkshakes, and cherry dipped vanilla softserve cones from Dairy Queen. Not all at once, though. We are trying to be healthy.
Irrational Fears
I've been really busy this week. That's the reason I'm giving for the fact that I went a whole day without noticing any Scooter movement. I'm sure the movement was there (in the days since, there has been tons of movement, including an adorable case of late night fetal hiccups after one of those trips to Dairy Queen.) I just didn't notice it, and then I noticed that I hadn't noticed it, and then I panicked a little. Sean was very calm and encouraging. He put his mouth right next to the belly and addressed the Scooter directly: "Walter! This is your daddy. Knock once if you can hear me!" We waited for about 30 seconds, and then there was one very distinct bop from inside the womb. The child is not even born yet and already the menfolk are in cahoots.
Anti-climactic revelation of baby's name
As noted above. =) We are quite excited to meet wee Walter and have started using his name with gleeful abandon. We've been duly warned by many experienced parents: sometimes the baby arrives and does not look at all like the name you've chosen. We think we're safe, though, because every baby, male and female, looks like a Walter (ie, like an old man.) We know it's not a particularly fashionable name, but we love it. He's named only partly after Mr. Whitman (he of our last pictoral clue) and really only tangentially after WALL-E (the lovable robot). Mostly he's named after Sean's grandpa, his mom's dad, who Sean never got to meet but who he's always loved. We're planning on calling him "Walt," aware that we may eventually be overruled by the child himself when it comes to nickname preferences (today, for example, we learned that Hank comes very quickly like a good boy when he hears the word, "Cake.")
Attempts to regain sense of drama with the baby's middle name
So, middle name clues! As Sean noted, it is another family name. Walt will also share this name with someone who shows up quite a lot in Christian iconography carrying a sword and showing off his receding hair line (he's depicted with a "high forehead" to indicate his great intelligence.) No pictures this time ... the last one I posted actually had the name written in the lower right hand corner, leading Sean to note that the two of us need an upgrade to our monitors or our glasses.
Amphibious characteristics
I have taken to the water. I spent my free time at Synod Assembly floating, treading, and jogging around the hotel pool. I've been to two water aerobics classes at the Y and am looking forward to more. This swimming thing seems to be nothing but good for me. I am less dangerously clumsy in the water (still clumsy, just not as dangerous.) I feel light. The water seems to take some pressure off my innards, leading to better digestion, and the chlorine seems to be clearing up my awful back acne. (I make pregnancy sound so glamorous and beautiful, don't I?) I've noticed that it seems to already be helping me get my strength and stamina back after those 3 months of near total immobility. Water is very, very good.
Even moar weeping
We went to a piano recital of two young members of the congregation last night. This was the greatest beginner recital I've ever been to--the kids were all so proud, so happy, so confident and just giddy with the chance to do something they clearly enjoyed. Of course I cried. You would too if you'd been there to hear Cooper's own arrangement of "Amazing Grace." We got a pamphlet for the program ... it's a music appreciation curriculum that starts with infants! We are so doing this. Also, Baby Swim.
Wonderful gifts
This doesn't really fit with the "terrifying pregnancy facts" theme, although it is related to the symptom described above. Also, I am a little terrified that I will be too paralyzed by guilt to sit down and write thank you notes, because I'm already so very far behind. There's my next vivid dream, I predict. But oh, the wonderful gifts! There were ladybug cards from Nancy and booties from the Andersons (who have also lent us the most gorgeous crib you've ever seen. Their youngest son recommends we rock it by attaching a string to the crib and the other end of the string to my big toe.) There was the blanket from Audrey you heard about before, and a classic text on "Expectant Motherhood" from Shannon (along with a note which I will always treasure.) My parents sent us Bunnicula II--descended from the noble line of Bunnicula, my all-time favorite stuffed animal and vampire bunny series protagonist. I got a book on child rearing from my confirmation co-teacher and an adorable bunny figurine from a member of the women's study group. And today ... today a box arrived from Texas.
The box came from Arwen. Like the box from Audrey, you could tell right away that it was good because it was covered with stickers. Inside was something truly wonderful indeed.
A homemade, hand-crafted fraggle!
Arwen remembered that fraggles played a significant role in the early wooing days of Scooter's parents, and she remembered fondly the enthusiasm she and I shared for Fraggle Rock during our time as teachers together. When we started this blog four years ago, Arwen decided to make us (and Baby Edison-Albright) a fraggle. We've named him Groovy Fraggle and we LOVE him. But there's more! Other handmade items in the box: a doozer (we named him Biscuit,) a radish, a cupcake, and a hat for Sean to wear for comedic effect in the delivery room (you can see the hat in the picture, too.)
Little Walt, you are so loved by so many amazing people. Friends and family from all over have been preparing for years for your arrival. If you feel the love, knock once. [Bop!]
Vivid, unpleasant dreams
Check! Although they haven't been as bad as my usual anxiety nightmares, just more life-like and frantic. I'm usually doing something that requires a tremendous amount of energy, like directing a high school musical. I wake up exhausted. This morning, though, I had an incredibly vivid dream that I was eating oatmeal. Then I woke up and ate some oatmeal for breakfast (and some for lunch, too.) What a helpful dream!
GERD
Heartburn, baby. Acid reflux-o-rama. Did you know that all good foods cause heartburn? Oatmeal seems to be a notable exception. Milk and chocolate are both on the list of foods to avoid, but for some reason chocolate milk seems to be all good for me and Scooter. Scooter also likes peanut butter cup blizzards, chocolate milkshakes, and cherry dipped vanilla softserve cones from Dairy Queen. Not all at once, though. We are trying to be healthy.
Irrational Fears
I've been really busy this week. That's the reason I'm giving for the fact that I went a whole day without noticing any Scooter movement. I'm sure the movement was there (in the days since, there has been tons of movement, including an adorable case of late night fetal hiccups after one of those trips to Dairy Queen.) I just didn't notice it, and then I noticed that I hadn't noticed it, and then I panicked a little. Sean was very calm and encouraging. He put his mouth right next to the belly and addressed the Scooter directly: "Walter! This is your daddy. Knock once if you can hear me!" We waited for about 30 seconds, and then there was one very distinct bop from inside the womb. The child is not even born yet and already the menfolk are in cahoots.
Anti-climactic revelation of baby's name
As noted above. =) We are quite excited to meet wee Walter and have started using his name with gleeful abandon. We've been duly warned by many experienced parents: sometimes the baby arrives and does not look at all like the name you've chosen. We think we're safe, though, because every baby, male and female, looks like a Walter (ie, like an old man.) We know it's not a particularly fashionable name, but we love it. He's named only partly after Mr. Whitman (he of our last pictoral clue) and really only tangentially after WALL-E (the lovable robot). Mostly he's named after Sean's grandpa, his mom's dad, who Sean never got to meet but who he's always loved. We're planning on calling him "Walt," aware that we may eventually be overruled by the child himself when it comes to nickname preferences (today, for example, we learned that Hank comes very quickly like a good boy when he hears the word, "Cake.")
Attempts to regain sense of drama with the baby's middle name
So, middle name clues! As Sean noted, it is another family name. Walt will also share this name with someone who shows up quite a lot in Christian iconography carrying a sword and showing off his receding hair line (he's depicted with a "high forehead" to indicate his great intelligence.) No pictures this time ... the last one I posted actually had the name written in the lower right hand corner, leading Sean to note that the two of us need an upgrade to our monitors or our glasses.
Amphibious characteristics
I have taken to the water. I spent my free time at Synod Assembly floating, treading, and jogging around the hotel pool. I've been to two water aerobics classes at the Y and am looking forward to more. This swimming thing seems to be nothing but good for me. I am less dangerously clumsy in the water (still clumsy, just not as dangerous.) I feel light. The water seems to take some pressure off my innards, leading to better digestion, and the chlorine seems to be clearing up my awful back acne. (I make pregnancy sound so glamorous and beautiful, don't I?) I've noticed that it seems to already be helping me get my strength and stamina back after those 3 months of near total immobility. Water is very, very good.
Even moar weeping
We went to a piano recital of two young members of the congregation last night. This was the greatest beginner recital I've ever been to--the kids were all so proud, so happy, so confident and just giddy with the chance to do something they clearly enjoyed. Of course I cried. You would too if you'd been there to hear Cooper's own arrangement of "Amazing Grace." We got a pamphlet for the program ... it's a music appreciation curriculum that starts with infants! We are so doing this. Also, Baby Swim.
Wonderful gifts
This doesn't really fit with the "terrifying pregnancy facts" theme, although it is related to the symptom described above. Also, I am a little terrified that I will be too paralyzed by guilt to sit down and write thank you notes, because I'm already so very far behind. There's my next vivid dream, I predict. But oh, the wonderful gifts! There were ladybug cards from Nancy and booties from the Andersons (who have also lent us the most gorgeous crib you've ever seen. Their youngest son recommends we rock it by attaching a string to the crib and the other end of the string to my big toe.) There was the blanket from Audrey you heard about before, and a classic text on "Expectant Motherhood" from Shannon (along with a note which I will always treasure.) My parents sent us Bunnicula II--descended from the noble line of Bunnicula, my all-time favorite stuffed animal and vampire bunny series protagonist. I got a book on child rearing from my confirmation co-teacher and an adorable bunny figurine from a member of the women's study group. And today ... today a box arrived from Texas.
The box came from Arwen. Like the box from Audrey, you could tell right away that it was good because it was covered with stickers. Inside was something truly wonderful indeed.
Arwen remembered that fraggles played a significant role in the early wooing days of Scooter's parents, and she remembered fondly the enthusiasm she and I shared for Fraggle Rock during our time as teachers together. When we started this blog four years ago, Arwen decided to make us (and Baby Edison-Albright) a fraggle. We've named him Groovy Fraggle and we LOVE him. But there's more! Other handmade items in the box: a doozer (we named him Biscuit,) a radish, a cupcake, and a hat for Sean to wear for comedic effect in the delivery room (you can see the hat in the picture, too.)
Little Walt, you are so loved by so many amazing people. Friends and family from all over have been preparing for years for your arrival. If you feel the love, knock once. [Bop!]
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Clue number two
First, a hint about yesterday's hint : yesterday's date was an important one for the old fellow, as well. (The Scooter has been leaping in the womb lately, but the clue is not Visitation related, although we appreciated the synchronicity.)
And since I'm in such a good mood... another clue: both of little Scooter's names (first and middle) are family names.
And since I'm in such a good mood... another clue: both of little Scooter's names (first and middle) are family names.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
News from the Womb
We learned many things about our Scooter today:
The question of the day, truly, was this:
The answer is known and shall indeed be revealed, but a couple of thoughts, first (I'm just trying to recreate for you the experience we had this morning, when the ultrasound tech did every other possible measurement before giving us a blessed glimpse between Scooter's legs.)
First, I'd like to reiterate that "Scooter" is an entirely sex/gender neutral nickname. It was, in fact, one of my nicknames. Video evidence exists: during the epic Easter Egg hunt of 1986 one of the clues read, in part, "To the computer/scamper, dear Scooter." It's also been a favorite term of endearment used interchangeably between me and Sean (see Seinfeld, "shmoopy.") You can clearly see our preference for the nickname in these photos from the Edison-Albright archives:
So, no matter what we saw on that ultrasound today, "Scooter" is a nickname we will continue to use proudly and often. (More family name trivia: Sean's mom was nicknamed "Skeeter" by her dad. And my grandpa was named Kermit. So, a rich precedence for Muppet-related names on both sides.)
Second, keep in mind that the ultrasound revealed our baby's sex, but not our baby's gender. (For more on that, scroll down to part II of this post, and read the excellent comments, too.)
I'm trying to think of other ways to stall, but I'm all out. So, if you're still curious about the sex of our baby ...
- The Scooter is limber. Baby spent the whole ultrasound with feet right up next to face, which is some kind of advanced yoga move, we think. We have amended our prediction from "soccer scholarship" to "yoga scholarship."
- The Scooter is coordinated. We watched in awe as Scooter did the most energetic thumb-sucking the world has ever seen. So cool!
- The Scooter has two kidneys, a brain, a heart, a diaphragm, a stomach, an umbilical chord, two hands, two feet, and long-looking arms and legs. Based on the amount of heartburn I'm getting, we're also thinking that Scooter has hair (the ultrasound did not reveal anything to do with this. The war between my Scandinavian genes and Sean's hairy genes wages on unseen.)
- The Scooter is terrifically uncooperative. It turns out that impressive yoga positions are not the best for getting pictures and measurements of the spine. We tried turning me over on one side, then the other. Then some walking around, then some orange juice and graham crackers. The solution ended up being the classic "dig the ultrasound wand into Mommy's belly as painfully as possible" maneuver. The radiology tech's comment: "Oh, the things we do for our children!"
The question of the day, truly, was this:
OR
The answer is known and shall indeed be revealed, but a couple of thoughts, first (I'm just trying to recreate for you the experience we had this morning, when the ultrasound tech did every other possible measurement before giving us a blessed glimpse between Scooter's legs.)
First, I'd like to reiterate that "Scooter" is an entirely sex/gender neutral nickname. It was, in fact, one of my nicknames. Video evidence exists: during the epic Easter Egg hunt of 1986 one of the clues read, in part, "To the computer/scamper, dear Scooter." It's also been a favorite term of endearment used interchangeably between me and Sean (see Seinfeld, "shmoopy.") You can clearly see our preference for the nickname in these photos from the Edison-Albright archives:
 |
| Jersey Shore; Wonderland Pier; Circa 2007 |
 |
| Park Ridge, IL; Jewel; Circa 2009 |
So, no matter what we saw on that ultrasound today, "Scooter" is a nickname we will continue to use proudly and often. (More family name trivia: Sean's mom was nicknamed "Skeeter" by her dad. And my grandpa was named Kermit. So, a rich precedence for Muppet-related names on both sides.)
Second, keep in mind that the ultrasound revealed our baby's sex, but not our baby's gender. (For more on that, scroll down to part II of this post, and read the excellent comments, too.)
I'm trying to think of other ways to stall, but I'm all out. So, if you're still curious about the sex of our baby ...
Friday, June 1, 2007
Will it be Dorothy or Theodore?
I wrote in the last post that I pretty much always think I'm pregnant. A monthly ritual that grew out of this in the past was me calling Sean and opening with a cheerful "I'm not pregnant!" It felt different to say it this month, but not so bad. We weren't expecting to get pregnant in the first month of trying, and I haven't been to a doc about the triptans yet, so it's not terrible news. I got a bad migraine Wednesday night and popped a triptan without any worry, which was nice. And it hasn't been so bad, endometriosis symptom-wise. It turns out the vitamin B-50 I take every day to prevent migraines is also good for preventing cramps. Excellent!
But yeah, it's still disappointing. So, based on my recent research, I think we made need "a touch of destiny" to jump start this project.
So, solemnly and according to the pirate code, I vow that if I get pregnant this summer, resultant baby will have a name derived from ancient Greek.
Speaking of Greek ... let's not speak of Greek right now. Certainly not in Greek, though I'm amazed at how much I've learned in four days. I'm going to go put my 100% quiz up on the refrigerator when I'm done writing this, but I'm putting in 8 hours of studying outside of class (which is four hours) every day. Getting pregnant under these conditions would definitely be a miracle--I haven't learned the word for that yet, but I bet I will soon.
Oh, so the subject line ... names help us as mnemonics for vocab words, like in the lesson we learned today there's a word that transliterates roughly to "dorahn" meaning gift ... Dorothy and Theodore both mean "Gift of God" because doro/dore=gift and thy/theo=God. Anyway, I'm keeping my eye on the Greek names.
But yeah, it's still disappointing. So, based on my recent research, I think we made need "a touch of destiny" to jump start this project.
So, solemnly and according to the pirate code, I vow that if I get pregnant this summer, resultant baby will have a name derived from ancient Greek.
Speaking of Greek ... let's not speak of Greek right now. Certainly not in Greek, though I'm amazed at how much I've learned in four days. I'm going to go put my 100% quiz up on the refrigerator when I'm done writing this, but I'm putting in 8 hours of studying outside of class (which is four hours) every day. Getting pregnant under these conditions would definitely be a miracle--I haven't learned the word for that yet, but I bet I will soon.
Oh, so the subject line ... names help us as mnemonics for vocab words, like in the lesson we learned today there's a word that transliterates roughly to "dorahn" meaning gift ... Dorothy and Theodore both mean "Gift of God" because doro/dore=gift and thy/theo=God. Anyway, I'm keeping my eye on the Greek names.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
William wants a doll
I'm intimidated at the thought of raising a boy. I'm an only child--my main frame of reference/resource for child-rearing is Free to Be, You and Me. Which is great, and it did great things for me, but I'm not sure "William wants a doll" and "It's alright to cry" are going to balance against the messages the world sends boys.
I'm not saying the world doesn't send mixed up messages to girls. I'm just personally familiar with many of those messages.
If you had told me when I was a young feminist (0-18 yrs old) that patriarchal society has just as much of a negative impact on men as it does on women, I would have been deeply offended. This is corny, but in a college journalism course we watched a video called "The Tough Guise" about the dangerous myth of masculinity and its impact on men and boys ... and it opened my eyes. And freaked me out on a whole new level at the hypothetical thought of raising a boy--I'd always imagined having a girl, but this video only heightened that aspiration.
All of this came out in a less-than-graceful way over lunchtime chatting at the refectory last week. A friend asked if we want a boy or a girl, and I responded: "We're planning on a boy, but we're hoping for a girl." Another friend called me out on this and another friend assured me that it's OK to hope for a girl baby, knowing that Sean and I are going to love our baby. Period.
So here I am, a slightly more mature feminist who really does believe that Free to Be stuff. I don't want to turn around and dump a bunch of my own sex/gender issues on my child. I want to go into this mysterious process with an open mind and an open heart (wait a second ...) and really be ready with the love, no qualifications. Frankly, I should be intimidated no matter what.
So when I imagine hypothetical future baby these days, I often imagine a boy. He has a name, which I've promised Sean I will not disclose, but the name does help me imagine the kid. It's exciting. Here's the thing ...
Is it OK if I'm still kinda hoping for a girl? I'm genuinely asking ... as a fine YDS graduate once said in a sermon, "I'm not allergic to your Amens" ... or in this case, comments.
I'm not saying the world doesn't send mixed up messages to girls. I'm just personally familiar with many of those messages.
If you had told me when I was a young feminist (0-18 yrs old) that patriarchal society has just as much of a negative impact on men as it does on women, I would have been deeply offended. This is corny, but in a college journalism course we watched a video called "The Tough Guise" about the dangerous myth of masculinity and its impact on men and boys ... and it opened my eyes. And freaked me out on a whole new level at the hypothetical thought of raising a boy--I'd always imagined having a girl, but this video only heightened that aspiration.
All of this came out in a less-than-graceful way over lunchtime chatting at the refectory last week. A friend asked if we want a boy or a girl, and I responded: "We're planning on a boy, but we're hoping for a girl." Another friend called me out on this and another friend assured me that it's OK to hope for a girl baby, knowing that Sean and I are going to love our baby. Period.
So here I am, a slightly more mature feminist who really does believe that Free to Be stuff. I don't want to turn around and dump a bunch of my own sex/gender issues on my child. I want to go into this mysterious process with an open mind and an open heart (wait a second ...) and really be ready with the love, no qualifications. Frankly, I should be intimidated no matter what.
So when I imagine hypothetical future baby these days, I often imagine a boy. He has a name, which I've promised Sean I will not disclose, but the name does help me imagine the kid. It's exciting. Here's the thing ...
Is it OK if I'm still kinda hoping for a girl? I'm genuinely asking ... as a fine YDS graduate once said in a sermon, "I'm not allergic to your Amens" ... or in this case, comments.
Second thoughts
(How's that for a sensational title?)
So, I may have been a bit hasty in promising Lisa Marie a comprehensive list of our potential baby names. The thing is, her very fair request coincidentally managed to pit the first two cardinal rules of baby blogging -- (1)full, graphic, obscene disclosure and (2)baby-name paranoia -- against each other. And, like the climax of every great Isaac Asimov story, Annie and I have been crippled with indecision, cycling through the possibilities, trying to resolve the inherent conflict.
Not to mix metaphors, but Annie "phoned a friend" or two and, with their council, we're leaning toward a decision. First, there's the whole issue of counting all your chicks in one handbasket. But more importantly, as our friends pointed out, this is the INTERNET and there are THIEVES. A sentiment which is surprisingly dear to my heart, as Annie can attest. So, for the time being, we won't be releasing our choices, not even under a Creative Commons license.
I will, however, share a theory on naming that Annie introduced me to when we first started flirting (with this idea of procreation): there is a subliminal, quasi-mystical importance to the acronym created by a child's initials. She learned it from her mom, a SEE. You can see how such a theory might appeal to an ACE, and I must admit it seems to really have worked out for her. As an SBE (née SBA) I really have no experience to draw on. It's very fun at least, and adds another level of intrigue to the baby naming process. How cool would it be to have not just a great name, but also a kickass monogram? And if they were tied together in meaning or form, all the cooler.
So, names that can almost certainly be ruled out:
Petrarch Engelberto Edison-Albright
Leroy Ignatius Edison-Albright
Alia Pomegranite Edison-Albright
Otherwise, we are open to suggestions.
So, I may have been a bit hasty in promising Lisa Marie a comprehensive list of our potential baby names. The thing is, her very fair request coincidentally managed to pit the first two cardinal rules of baby blogging -- (1)full, graphic, obscene disclosure and (2)baby-name paranoia -- against each other. And, like the climax of every great Isaac Asimov story, Annie and I have been crippled with indecision, cycling through the possibilities, trying to resolve the inherent conflict.
Not to mix metaphors, but Annie "phoned a friend" or two and, with their council, we're leaning toward a decision. First, there's the whole issue of counting all your chicks in one handbasket. But more importantly, as our friends pointed out, this is the INTERNET and there are THIEVES. A sentiment which is surprisingly dear to my heart, as Annie can attest. So, for the time being, we won't be releasing our choices, not even under a Creative Commons license.
I will, however, share a theory on naming that Annie introduced me to when we first started flirting (with this idea of procreation): there is a subliminal, quasi-mystical importance to the acronym created by a child's initials. She learned it from her mom, a SEE. You can see how such a theory might appeal to an ACE, and I must admit it seems to really have worked out for her. As an SBE (née SBA) I really have no experience to draw on. It's very fun at least, and adds another level of intrigue to the baby naming process. How cool would it be to have not just a great name, but also a kickass monogram? And if they were tied together in meaning or form, all the cooler.
So, names that can almost certainly be ruled out:
Petrarch Engelberto Edison-Albright
Leroy Ignatius Edison-Albright
Alia Pomegranite Edison-Albright
Otherwise, we are open to suggestions.
Monday, May 7, 2007
A nod's as good as a wink...
As I recall, one of the thoughts that lead to the naming of the blog, was the concern that we not duplicate another baby blog already out there. After all, it's not "like we invented it."
What sold me on the name was the idea that we might feel just that - like we invented it - upon our first look at our child.
And while this is, technically, yet another meta post, I think it's actually fitting and appropriate that a baby blog might enjoy a discussion on naming. I know Annie and I have spent quite a lot of nights musing on the topic already.
Say no more.
What sold me on the name was the idea that we might feel just that - like we invented it - upon our first look at our child.
And while this is, technically, yet another meta post, I think it's actually fitting and appropriate that a baby blog might enjoy a discussion on naming. I know Annie and I have spent quite a lot of nights musing on the topic already.
Say no more.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)