Me — “How about Elliott?”
Him – Ehh — Lee – Uhht,’ he says, in a husky voice, just like E.T. in the movie.
Me — “OK, what about Ari?”
Him – “I worked with a chef named Ari – I couldn’t stand him”
Me – BIG SIGH, “All right, what do you think of Gabriel, we could call him Gabe?”
Him – “Yuck!”
Me – “Simon?”
Him – singing in a high voice, “Well, hello my name is Simon, and I like to do DRAWARINGS!”
Me – another big sigh, “Well, I love the name Tate. You know, my grandmother’s maiden name was Tatleman, so it would be in her honor.”
Him – “Sounds like a slang term for part of the human genitalia.” (Of course, at this point he says the word he’s thinking of – in fact – he says it over and over and over again! If you don’t know what I am talking about, send me an email and I will enlighten you)
Me – “OK, now you’ve ruined that name for me forever!”
Him – “Actually, I kind of like it.” (insert evil smile)
Me – starting to yell, “OK – YOU pick a name”, throwing the baby name book at him!
He – randomly opens the book and points to a name, “SHLOMO!”
Me – “FINE, Shlomo it is!”
Why do men do this? Why do they find a way to ruin every name you come up with, find the one random thing that kids might use to tease, and never have their own suggestions?
This is one of many true conversations that Michael and I have had regarding naming our children – both our 2 ½ year old son, and the baby we are waiting to adopt – now known as “Baby Shlomo”. No, we don’t know for sure that we are having a boy, but amazingly, we have several girl names that we both agree on. So, I have been hounding him to come up with a list of boy names during the last year as we made the decision to adopt, picked an agency, worked on the paperwork, and finally turned it in. After this conversation, our baby, whoever he or she may be, is affectionately nicknamed Shlomo. It’s perfect – we are a Jewish family, and Shlomo is one of the most stereotypical Jewish names in the world. We love having a name to call the baby that will, hopefully soon, join our family.
We have one biological son, Isaac, who is 2 ½. When I was pregnant with him (much more on that in a later post), we named him “the Midge”. No, not because the baby in my uterus was so small, as in midget, but because Michael, the fly fisher, thought the embryo seen on the ultrasound looked a lot like a midge – some sort of fly larvae that he knows about from fishing. Yes, we nicknamed our unborn child after a LARVAE – call us crazy! I thought it was kind of annoying (he thinks about fly fishing far too much) and pretty darn cute. I know that many people find out the sex of the baby and give the baby their real name before they are born. I am a little superstitious, and find myself unable to do this – especially since we don’t have a preference on sex in our adoption and we did not find out Isaac’s sex until 21 weeks when I started having major complications. Also, I just can’t seem to name a baby I have not yet met. I am the sort to have a list of names ready and waiting so I can see what “fits” best.
So, here we are, in Fayetteville, Arkansas, waiting to adopt a baby from somewhere around San Antonio, Texas, sometime in the next year. Shlomo – we are waiting for you, and we can’t wait to meet you soon!
Waiting for Shlomo is a new MotherLode blog that will document the ups and downs of one Northwest Arkansas family’s adoption process. It’s not listed in the categories over to the right yet (need to add that soon!), but if Erin decides to write more than one post a week it will go directly into her ‘Waiting for Shlomo’ category. If you haven’t found them yet, MotherLode also features the blogs: All Akimbo, Life With Ladybug and The Rockwood Files.
