The Baby Name Game

Naming your baby is a helluva task.  This is a name your kid is going to carry around forever.

FOR-EH-VER

It's the jumping off point for nicknames.  It will grace the top of resumes and prefix email addresses.  It will be called (and possibly massacred) by many a telemarketer and substitute teacher.

I've heard it called your baby's "Brand" and that's not far off. So it's one of the more important decisions we make as a parent.

I think we did okay the first time around. We had some pretty strict guidelines we used to pick our names:

* We wanted something "different" but not so "out there" that it would raise eyebrows. We didn't want to be unique for the sake of unique. We wanted to avoid anything super trendy.

* We wanted names that were spellable and sound like how they're spelled.  None of this "Sheene is pronounced Sean" business.  Pish.

* We wanted Celtic names because of my husband's background. (FYI- Gaelic names interfere with bullet point 3)

* And an interesting situation for twins- We didn't want anything "matchy." It wasn't our style.

So with Baby #3 on the way, we've started to play the name game again. The rules are pretty much the same.  The big no-no's?

* Made-up spellings
* A baby named after a brand (Look at my baby Chanel!)
* Made-up smoosh names
* Inanimate Objects or Regular Words (Toast, Apple, Rhythm)

And THAT'S how we brand our babies up in this mug.

My Homeless Baby

Now that we're gestating Baby Numero Three, we have a little bit of an issue on our hands.

There is nowhere to put Baby.

Let me paint you a picture:

This is our house. It is old as crap.  Like, 117 years kind of old.

At some point in the 1900's a crackhead came along and turned it into a multi-unit/house of crazy floorplans.

Then somebody else bought it and turned it BACK into a single-family home but they left the rooms in a crazy configuration.

Technically= Our house has 6 rooms upstairs
Reality= Our house has 2 rooms that function, 2 rooms that are cold as hell in the winter, and 2 rooms that are good for nothing but storage. (Please see reference to crack smoking above)

What this means= Baby is homeless and will either co-sleep or sleep in the hallway because babies grunt at night and that makes me cranky.

And so, we're about to get all house renovation blog up in here. House renovation, twins, working mom, pregnancy blog. Huh. Maybe we can just put the baby in a dresser drawer to sleep.

How to Apologize

Or maybe- How to apologize if you really want people to throw fruit at your head.

As a mom  there's a lot of skill-building up in here. But I think even as adults, it's good to do a quick review about how to do stuff so you don't alienate people or burn yourself on a fiery stake of Oops.

So, today we're reviewing how to apologize to somebody when you really screwed the pooch. (FYI- This post was inspired by the recent poop storm between The Bloggess and a certain PR Firm with a bit of a PR Problem.)

1.  Say "I'm sorry," "My bad," or some other derivative thereof.

2. Say "I should have been more careful," "...thought before I acted,"  "...taken my meds," or some other remorse-laden tidbit.

3. Say "How can I fix it?"

4. Say "I'm sorry"  AGAIN. But don't say it too much. You'll just look like an ass who is trying to make himself feel better.

DO NOT-  Insert any form of the following into your apology:

* You had it coming
* You started it
* Let's just laugh this off!
* Everybody just needs to calm down
* I guess we all make mistakes (shrug)
* Stop being so mean to me!
* I have an alcohol problem

In essence- Own your shit. And shelve any self-serving douchebaggery like pandering or patronizing. Because if you were wrong, you were wrong.  You don't get to be the victim.

This PSA is brought to you by a rather irrelevant blogger and relevant human being. Happy Friday!

11 Weeks Pregnant

So, I'm 11 weeks pregnant (plus some-odd days) today and realized I've been pretty remiss in keeping any kind of gestational log for this nugget.  Which probably is some kind of omen that Baby #3 is going to fall victim to the "not the first born" curse of fewer pictures, an unfinished baby book, etc.

I predict....therapy?

Poor little 11 weeks pregnant fig-newton.

So, here's a quick recap of what's gone down in Uterus Town since we had our little surprise pee test results several weeks ago:

* We are having ONE baby. ONE. JUST. ONE. This resulted in a fist bump moment between yours truly and the husband mid-ultrasound.

Hah! I am just ONE BABY Bitchez!

* We learned that sometimes it doesn't matter if your ovaries were lazy bastards back in the day and only sent out a soldier once every 35-85 days, making conception a virtual impossibility.  Turns out having a baby can be nature's cure for problems making a baby.  Seems kind of backwards to me... (Dear Mother Nature- Stop smoking crack!)

* I feel like crap on a cracker.  Exhaustion, nausea, mood swings, poor sleep, con-sti-pa-tion- I'm a veritable Queen of the Party. But I'm hoping that now that I'm 11 weeks pregnant and almost to the Promised Land of the second trimester, these things will be replaced by glowing skin and tap dancing on glitter rainbows.

* At 11 weeks pregnant, I've gained 3 pounds (depending on how much salt I looked at the day before).  No maternity clothes yet, but I did go buy some Big Girl Pants yesterday after my 2 favorite casual pants were washed AND dried, shrinking them to Polly Pocket size.

* While the scale is still numbers friendly, I already have myself a nice buddha belly.  People at my work are whispering about me being pregnant.  Apparently, one of my clients told them, "Shut up. She just has a muffin top."  Sigh... Soon, my friends. Soon the truth will be revealed.

I forgot how growing a human is full of sunshine and rainbows and gas.