Three and Me: January 2009

Coming up with a name for your child is HARD. Sean and I have decided that there are a grand total of 10 boys names in the world and 8 million girls names to choose from (kind of like clothing options). We are set if this child is a boy, as we had a named chosen for a boy last time around when we found out we were having a girl (even if it does bug me that I know a guy who annoys me a LOT that has that name...but I'll have to get over that). Not to say that it was easy, mind you. It took us three months of arguing to come agree on Gillian's middle name (and in the end, Sean just gave up). "Gillian" was Sean's idea because he didn't love the name I have always wanted for a daughter ("Sadie Grace" after my North Georgia grandmother/greatgrandmother). He thinks "Sadie" is a great name, but is too cutesy to go well with "Colledge". I thought Gillian was pretty and went well with our last name, and not so common as a lot of other names, so I agreed (just how many names can be made with an "ayden" sound at the end, anyway??). So, here we are again with the girls names. The plan at this point is for me to make a list of every name I can tolerate and he will go through and cross out the ones he couldn't live with if he had to try. It's unfortunate, but I am pretty sure neither of us will *love* the name we give our next girl (if we have a next girl) because we will have had to compromise. Sean suggested we put the whole idea on hold until we find out the gender next month, but part of my nesting is giving this good, solid thought and making my list.

It seems a bit tricky to foresee some of the name landmines that can occur. Virginia, a perfectly respectable and dignified southern name, can become "Vagina" in elementary and middle school. Sherry rhymes with "hairy" and Shelly with "smelly". We have no control over our last names most of the time, but can help our kids avoid pre-pubescent hell with a little careful forethought. I would not name my son Richard and call him "Dick" for example. I probably would even avoid "Peter", even though I kindof like that name. I would avoid gender neutral names like "Leslie" for a boy... See? Hard. It is *almost* impossible to put my mind in the place of a 12 year old boy, but I'm trying.

I read an article recently that related lifetime depression and success with initials, if a person wasn't paranoid enough about the very intense task that is naming their child. So, just in case you though it would be fun to have your kids initial spell "ROT" or "DIE", think again. All I can say is that in modern vernacular, mine are particularly fly, "MAC". How fortuitous...good thing I changed my name.

(Gillian's very first sled run on her very first sled ride from last weekend)

No one really ever explained how quickly stomach muscles give up the second time a person gets pregnant. I mean, it's like the second HSG starts coursing through your body, your stomach has a moment of happy remembrance of the good old days when it didn't have to work at all, and just decides it now has a grand excuse to become completely irresponsible. I am now a few days shy of 4 months pregnant and I think I look like I'm somewhere between 6 and 7 months pregnant (everyone kindly and politely disagrees, probably to make me feel better, or maybe they don't have to notice every day, so it's easier to blow off my concern). If I had not been convinced by some very nice 2nd time moms that this is completely normal, I might even have a complex.

Our little one is definitely more mellow that Gillian so far. I remember her first spaz out at about 12 weeks and she was never hard to miss after that. I feel tiny flutters every now and then, but I would miss completely if I didn't know what it was. I will actually feel a lot better once I feel regular movement. I heard the heartbeat a week ago, so I am in fact, still carrying a real live baby, but still. The sciatica and other Not So Pleasant symptoms (like areolas that feel like bundles of raw nerve ending) should be reassurance enough, but no so. Not for a person with "worry" on her top 5 list of Favorite Things To Do.

We are trying to make this baby idea familiar for Gillian by getting a few little books about having a baby brother or sister, but it's still a little bit intangible for her 28 month old brain. She's rather read The Giving Tree (which she is currently obssessed with). Maybe it will be more real to her once there is movement she can see and feel. But, maybe not. She is not a huge fan of baby dolls, so maybe the idea of a baby is interesting for a second, then some trivial bit of fluff to throw around. She still prefers animals to baby dolls, or even her own feet to baby dolls. We Skyped with Nonni on Wednesday and she asked Gillian if she wanted to give the baby her bottle (she spied the baby doll in her cradle), so Gillian pulled the cradle over, took the baby out and put her foot in the bed. She proceeded to give her foot a boopie (her lovey-a soft cotton trifold diaper that we have 10 of) and a blanket. She then cradled her foot tenderly, kissed and hugged it, asked it if it wanted a bottle, and pretended it was drinking a bottle before putting it back in the cradle. Then she took it out and said, "Foot wake up, Mama! Good morning foot!". Feet and legs have human qualities. She will often say (if she needs to get by me or Sean) "excuse me, Legs!". She makes her foot sad or asleep by curling her toes over. She makes her foot, or a rock, or her Lambs cry sometimes and of course, you have to ask the personified object if it is OK and what's the matter. Usually she says whatever it is is crying because it wants it's mama. Then I feel guilt that she's projecting her own wanting her mama more often. She likes to pretend that her Lamb's seesaw from their playground is an airplane and make them fly on it to "see Nonni and Grandaddy". Of course, Nonni and Grandaddy can be Lambs, or forks, or they can be fingers (when she says her finger is Nonni, I have to address her finger as Nonni, or she gets a little bent out of shape).

The other night in the bathtub she told me a story about our cleaning lady, Lucy, and how she brought pink cupcakes to our house and sang "Happy Birthday to You" and how they went on slides at the playground. In reality, Lucy did a great job cleaning our house like usual, but I saw no evidence of pink cupcakes and it was negative digits during the period that they were allegedly at the playground, so I kindof doubt Lucy took her to the slide. But I like that she imagined her perfect day, and was able to tell me about it. She also does this thing where she does a snapping kind of gesture and things appear. The first time was a few months ago when she clicked her tongue and did the snap thing with her right hand and said, "there Mama. Let's watch Pretend TV". The click was the remote. I notice this power now extends beyond pretend TV to making food appear for the Lambs and friends when they're eating dinner to snapping and clicking when she gives me an invisible napkin after she makes me eggs to eat in her kitchen. I have no idea where the idea came that she could make things appear, but it would be fun to discover it one day. Also, the imagination extends to pretending other things are something else completely, like the Letter "L" in the bathtub being a razor she gives me to "shave my beard" (something we do with bubbles in the bath) or the Letter H being a band aid for a phantom boo-boo. Sometimes a crayon doubles as a new diaper for her rocks or a cardboard tube as a trumpet or pair of pants. I am transfixed by all of this, of course*.

At playgroup the other day, Gillian said she wanted to go "pee-pee in the froggy potty". We hadn't been to AJ's house in 6 weeks, but Gillian remembered something I didn't-that he did, indeed, have a froggy potty (it was at that time in AJ's bedroom, door closed). This attests that she does NOT get her agile and extremely competant memory from me. Sean can correct his parents on events that occurred when he was 2 or 3 years old. It is really quite freakish, but perhaps a great memory will save her from suffering from the head fog I frequently suffer from that makes a person appear incredibly flakey. Speaking of potties and bathroom habits, I'm not sure that I mentioned how Gillian is extremely private about it when she poops. When she pees, she gleefully announces "I'm pee-peeing in the diaper, Mama!" When she poops, she says, "Mama, go 'way. I need to poop" and will even close the door behind me when I leave her room. She is happy to tell me she's done, and that she needs a new diaper, but I find it endearing that there is SOMETHING so private to her that she wants to be completely alone when she does it. Of course, I don't get that luxury with her around, but such is parenthood.

We had our first swim lesson today at the YMCA and we had an absolute blast (see pics, at bottom). It is strange to bundle up and go out in 20 degree weather to go to a pool, but the facilities are pretty phenomenal, and the heated pool was refreshing and perfect (no wading in required). Gillian got a little too attached to a toy Giraffe that we used to try to get them to swim toward something and use their arms and legs to paddle, but she was gracious in letting him go back and play with his friends in the box at the end. I'll post a video when I get it uploaded. On the way home, after lunch, we ran out of gas. Awesome. It could have sucked a lot more. We walked a half mile to the train station (which reminds me of how I love people who shovel sidewalks in from of their home and wish everyone would), and Sean went to get a gas can and gas while we took the train south home so Gillian could go to sleep. I pulled out all the stops to keep her awake on the jaunt home, and we made it. I hear her snoring as I type (man, does she snore!). I am very, very grateful that if we are going to run out of gas when it's 20 degrees, that we did it so close to a line that can drop us 3blocks from home. This is why living in a well planned city is awesome.

*many of these details are for our benefit to remember how Gillian sees the world at this moment.