As most parents can attest to, we often spend months going over baby names. Some of us have had them planned forever, long before they were ever born. Some of those even change at the last moment. Ahhhhhh! The frustration of the flip flopping of baby namin’! And then, after all of that madness, your baby is born, you hold them in your arms, and then someone, perhaps even YOU, gives that baby a nickname.
I Spent Months Naming My Children and Guess What I called them?
Sigh. Well, I’m certainly not proud of it but my baby naming went a lot like this.
Dreamed of naming my first born son, Justin, after one of my favorite movie characters as a child. Justin, the name was strong, meant justice, yes, this is the name I chose as a young girl for my firstborn son.
Once I became pregnant, the baby boy’s father’s name was Michael, and oh!, how it was a long standing French tradition, at least in their family to name the son after the father. So I did. But I found an incredible middle ground when I decided to give him a middle name that also denoted strength and justice. Michael Alexander. Yes! There’s my noble boy’s name! I couldn’t wait to call him Alexander!
We bring him home from the hospital. His 80 year old Grandfather went to change one of his diapers and found “not but an old dab of pee.”
From that moment and until he was around 2 years old, in my son’s father’s home, he was nicknamed Peedab. Yes, PEEDAB. ARG! And yes, of course, OF COURSE, I also called him that. Mother hormones or something. I didn’t care what he was called, he was mine and he was perfect!
I Knew I’d Get My Way the Second Time
Nope.
Once again, tradition got in the way and I am a total sucker for it so I conceded to a second name that wouldn’t have been my first choice. We all make these important concessions and cooperations with those we love.
So he was given his very honorable name, named after a very important friend of mine who had an untimely passing. I was so eager to call him by that handed down name, but once again, the sometimes bubbly silliness of new parents and new grandparents determine that fate. At least this one wasn’t quite so embarrassing! My second son was dubbed “Bubba” by his older brother.
Just Let it Happen, it Won’t Last Forever
I wrote this for those Mom’s and Dad’s who may now have a newborn named Mittens or Spongebob, because that’s what the other siblings decided on while you were in the hospital bringing all this chaos and love about. Don’t let it bother you, even the worse of nicknames rarely last beyond when you start to realize the baby really does need to be called by their real name for safety and recognition purposes. You’ll know when that is.
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