Mother's Intuition: What's That Baby?

I always kind of saw myself as being a father to boys: it's what I am, it's what I know.  Over the past couple of weeks Wifey had become more and more sure that it was a lady-baby brewing and when she felt one of the first kicks while having her nails done she became certain.  "Mother's intuition" she said.

Well, I wasn't going to believe "mother's intuition" from a lady who, just four months earlier, was adamant that she was two weeks late due to jet lag!  But the results are back and her inkling was well-placed: we are having a girl.

My immediate reaction was something along the lines of, "there goes the BMX buddy", but on reflection I have decided the dream may not be lost.  I am not talking along the lines of the Canadian lunatics who were attempting to raise their child without revealing the gender so as not to place worldly stereotypes upon he/she/it.  But I certainly don't see why my daughter can't rip it up on a BMX with the best of them; it was good enough for Nicole Kidman, after all!

But really, I will give my daughter every opportunity to take up my passions, but if she (like her mother) decides ballet is her thang, I'll be that dad at the back with the over-sized tripod and far-too-flash video camera who knows the routine a little too well.  Ballet I can cop: ballet is graceful, ballet is beautiful; ballet builds strength, flexibility and balance - all of which will be essential in her path to becoming a professional surfer.  Look out Steph Gilmore, we're gunning for you!

Baby Needs A Name

One of the heaviest burdens placed upon parents is choosing the name by which their child must be known for the rest of...well...eternity!  Perhaps it is an unfortunate fact that this occurs immediately after (generally) many hours of labour in which you have both done and endured things that I am doing my best to pretend I haven't had described to me (in detail) by everyone who has experienced it.  It is quite possible that in that state you aren't fit for such a decision.  Therefore, it is essential that you have fully thought through, considered, discussed and researched your options.  I believe that each of these steps is crucial to a successful and appropriate naming of your child.

Now it's important at this stage that I acknowledge a crucial point (which, let's face it, should probably be the tagline to my whole blog): I am no authority; simply an opinionated commentator.  However, at the risk of infuriating any of my four readers (discounting Mother), I will highlight a few of my personal pet-hates regarding what constitutes a 'good' name.  But if you really like the name "Passionfruit" (for example), you should not, and will not, let my opinion affect your decision.

The first thing that my grandmother requested of me upon hearing our news, was that we give our child a "nice, sensible, regular name."  Never one to miss an opportunity for smart-arsery, I replied that we would, indeed, choose a "regular" name, but give it a unique, hip, new spelling for individualism.  This brings me to my first pet-hate:


Bogan Spelling
There has been a trend, of particular prevalence in recent years, to take a relatively standard name, but liven it up a little with phresh new spelling: 'P-H's instead of 'F's ("Tiphanie"); double 'E's in the place of 'I's ("Feebee"); 'X's where one should find 'C-K-S' ("Jaxon" - something of a classic in bogan circles); 'A-H' where conformity would see the placement of either an 'E-R' or 'O-R' ("Tailah"); and other such genocides against the English language ("Jaksen" and The Shire's own "Beckaa", for example - these "names" demonstrate but the most basic understanding of the English language).  I have recently been alerted to another, so cutting-edge it's borderline lazy and so unbelievable it might just exist.  This name is "Xal".  I challenge you at this point to have a crack at pronouncing that, but don't be too hard at yourself if you don't arrive at the intended "Crystal"!  Just because "Xmas" has somehow become an acceptable alternative to "Christmas", doesn't mean that "Xal" works.  Such spellings are cruel: you are sentencing your child to a lifetime of "correcting" the spelling and/or pronunciation of their name, when ironically it's the other who has it right.

The temptation to change spelling is understandable - everybody seeks some kind of individualism and what better way to set your child up to stand out in the crowd than give them a unique name?  So if you're not going to rely on the rarely-used letters of the alphabet, why not just make up a name?  Please welcome pet-hate number two:


Bogan Creativity
Clearly celebrities (what every modern bogan aspires to be) are to blame for the trend in creative naming.  However, Average Joe is not stupid: he realises that he can't send his child to Punchbowl Primary called "Apple" or "Blanket", for his name must be distinguishable from what's in his backpack.  Instead we see the rise of names that sound vaguely familiar, yet just aren't quite right.  No, Shaz hasn't choked on her durry mid-scream; nor has she attempted to streamline the summonsing of her clan by saying the names of two of her children at once: she really has named him "Blayden".  Then there is the crown jewel of bogan creativity; a name that will be etched into the history books (or hard drives) as a dark mark against our generation; a name so shocking that I wouldn't believe it truly existed if I hadn't heard a first-hand account of an encounter with it at  daycare: "La-a".  No, it isn't (as this poor girl understandably attempted), "La...ah", but (as the disgruntled mother haughtily corrected), "Ladasha".  Seriously...

However, sometimes a unique name does just jump out at you when you least expect it and Blamo! you've got it.  Now, in such a situation, might I just suggest you take a brief moment to Google said name, just to check that it is in fact in line with your core values, before going ahead and giving it to your child.  Forever.  The following story happened to a friend of a friend of mine and is a glorious representation of my third point in baby-naming failures:


Not Understanding The Name
The subject of our tale (who will henceforth, for no particular reason, be known as Brutus) was invited, somewhat out of the blue, to the christening of an old school-friend's firstborn.  Having been out of touch for some time with this individual, Brutus was a little surprised by the name they had chosen for their daughter (phonetically): "Ke-ross-seh-knee".  After the service an opportunity arose for Brutus to enquire as to the origins of this unique title.  "It's a funny story actually," came the reply, "we were in Bunnings and saw it on the wall and just loved it straight away!"  "That is a funny story," thought Brutus (an English teacher by trade), "How did you spell it?"  "K-E-R-O-S-E-N-E."

Perhaps it isn't the greatest idea in the world to jump at a word you've spotted on an isle at a hardware store and present it to your child as a name, at least not without first having thrown it into your favourite search engine to ensure it isn't, say "a combustible hydrocarbon liquid".  So where do you find a nice, normal(ish) name for your child?  Why the interwebs of course!  I can almost guarantee that every person (since the start of the 21st century) who has needed to come up with a baby name, has at some point typed "baby names" into the search box and tried their luck.  The problem you face is, what are you really going to do with the 196 million pages that come up in the search result?  Click "all names" and scroll through A-Z?  Hell no!  So you narrow down your field a little and go with "Top 100 names for 2011".  But this brings us back to our initial quandary: wanting a unique name.  Many of the names on this list are classic, elegant and classy, but who wants their child to be one of seven Williams or Andrews in their kindy class?  The other names that make up this list fall into my fourth category for baby-naming blunders:


Anything From Twilight
The really frustrating thing about this is that most of the names in Twilight ("Renesme" aside, which not only contradicts rule number 2, but is RIDICULOUS) are very nice names!  Edward and Jacob are both good solid boys' names and Bella is a very sweet girl's name, or at least they would be if they weren't now so closely aligned with that awful franchise.  "Bella" has become so popular, that (according to a "Top 100 Popular Girls Names" list I came across current to May this year) "Isabella" is number 2 and "Bella" (in its raw form) number 60!  Maybe when (if ever) the hype dies down, these names will become acceptable in my eyes again, but until that time, Bellas, Edwards and Jacobs of this era will forever be recognisable as the spawn of Twihards.

So I guess a name just needs to come to you.  If you're lucky you'll have a relative's name that you can just recycle and then everybody has to be nice about it.  If not, try to take the same approach you would to a potential tattoo design: hang onto it for a little while and see if you still like it as much as you thought you did initially.  Maybe even take it for a road test!  Mother tells me that Father and her practiced calling potential names from the front porch, in order to truly determine how they felt about them.

As for us, I don't doubt that when the time finally comes for us to reveal our chosen name there will be many people who, despite their best efforts won't be able to hide their distain as they find a word to follow their initial: "Oh!  That's....." which is appropriately complimentary, without committing themselves to actual approval (you know you've really knocked them for six when the best they can arrive at is: "...interesting...!").  Though, for the moment we have taken to referring to our little bump as "Gunther" (for no particular reason), so the family will probably just be relieved if that doesn't stick!

Babies Are Expensive (Part 1)

As a little background to our situation: at the time we made our discovery, Wifey and I were renting out our (tiny) one-bedroom unit, living with my parents and both driving cars unsuitable for infants.  Clearly we had to make some changes.  Though, fortunately, we still had a good few months to make them happen.

Cue week of craziness.

Wifey is a teacher, meaning she gets blocks of holidays linking weeks of intensity.  The result of this is that when she gets holidays, she really likes to kick goals.  Therefore, when we happily settled on the sale of our unit (on the Wednesday), Wifey was keen to make a move towards home ownership fast, as the end of her leisure time was looming.  We moved VERY fast: Thursday afternoon found us in the real estate agent's office signing paperwork for the purchase of what is to become our family home.

Now I refer to "our" unit, but the reality is that it was mine by default only - I married well, as the investment had been a wise move at an opportune time entirely on Wifey's behalf.  This made our home purchase (commonly referred to as one of the biggest, most stressful things you'll ever do in your life), my first experience with such life altering decisions and changes.  I also managed to pair it with that other life-changing and stressful event of bringing a child into this world!

I am a full-blown adrenaline-junkie, but signing on the line that you will pay that kind of money, which you only "have" because you're now throat-deep in mortgage, is a different kind of rush.  The whole situation is quite surreal: you sit there talking in crazy figures based upon what a faceless institution says they will give you; then somehow papers get signed and this becomes yours.  The money is never seen - it just magically changes ownership - and it's probably just as well: I'm not sure it would be so easy to go through with if you actually handed over a bag containing hundreds of thousands of dollars!

So the papers were signed and we were locked in; time to take a break and catch our breath.  Alas, no, Wifey has other plans...

"Do you want to go and look at cars tomorrow?"

"Sure," I think, "There's no harm in looking." ...right?

But my crafty little mistress has other plans.  Somehow Friday afternoon finds us signing on the dotted line for our new family-wagon.  We have been up-sold to the larger model, because as the salesman (who is also conveniently expecting his first heir) pointed out, not only does it have unrivalled boot-space in its class (essential for the prams, nappies, changes of clothes, etc.), but the back folds down into (what he described as) a change table.  My Commodore ute, which held bikes and boards and represented my carefree youth, has been replaced by a family wagon complete with built in change table and (thanks to my always-thoughtful co-workers) 'My Family' stickers.

So in three days we sold a unit, bought a house (which I should mention needs substantial renovations) and a car.  Babies are expensive...and this is only the beginning!

A Shifting Perspective

Tess gets an insight into her not-too-distant future...

Once upon a time a family gathering would mean the younger generation separating themselves to a place where they could drink and chat about whatever their free-spirited hearts desired and generally avoiding "grown-up" talk.  Somehow, somewhere along the way a shift has occurred.

Last weekend a surprising role-reversal revealed itself as the 'adults' hid away in the peace of the kitchen, in an attempt to avoid the alarmingly mature discussion occurring amongst we young'ns outside.  The scene is thus: (bulging) Wifey and I, wet behind the ears in the world of babies, picking the brains of her cousin and partner, also expecting...for the second time.  No wonder the fun-lovers inside felt smothered!

So all of a sudden, though the idle chit-chat of celebrity news, fine dining and all things merry has not disappeared from the equation, it has now become the property, as once it was, of the elder generation.  Meanwhile, the "kids" were deep in conversation over birthing techniques, the insane amount of mess a baby can make at all hours of the day and night, how a trampoline is about the best investment any parent can make (sure, that's why I already have one...) and (most excitingly) what pram design provides the best combination of manoeuvrability and user-frendliness (totally psyched for the pram - it's basically a racing car for Baby and I'm the driver!).

However, it wasn't only Wifey and I who received invaluable training in what was to come that day.  We also had along with us for the ride our practice child, Tess.  She has been with us for some five years now and has become quite satisfied with her lot in life, not to mention the spoils that life as an only-child presents.  I have been harbouring some concerns for how the introduction of Baby to our household will impact upon Tess (I'm told this is an important consideration to make when a second child is on the way - steps must be taken to ensure that the old accepts the new).  So, Saturday presented a golden opportunity to test her tolerance...  Tess was wary at the outset - first she observed her subject from afar, a little unsure of what to make of it.  Eventually she relaxed, allowing her counterpart to make its approach.  She demonstrated enormous patience as she was first inspected, then stroked, then straddled...and choked!  Well, she handled all that well, though I'm not exactly sure you could say she enjoyed it.  However, moments later her captor discovered the joys of throwing a tennis ball and having a dog chase it and Tess, too, realised she LOVES kids!

But this shifting perspective goes further still, as I realised with a shock while driving the very next day.  My mate (in the passenger seat) was taking in the view as we approached a young lady on her afternoon walk.  His interest was sparked until we passed her and he discovered there was a baby strapped to her front.  However, as he expressed his disappointment, I went from distinct interest in the road in front of me to attempting to spot the exact design of her baby harness in the rear-view mirror and weather it would be suitable for Wifey in time to come.  I think I caught parenthood.