A. and I still don’t have names for Baby O. When we tell people this, they say, “Oh, you probably just don’t want to tell me.” And then I say, “No, really, we don’t have names yet.” And then there is silence — people are really afraid for us and our baby.
Early on, like eons ago (three months), A. called the baby Carrie, after his favorite movie (we don’t even know the gender). Yes, the 1970s thriller Carrie, about a troubled, awkward girl who is voted homecoming queen at her high school. But then at the dance, her classmates rig a bucket of pigs’ blood above the stage so that when she’s crowned, the blood soaks her — to her horror and humiliation. So she goes nuts and burns down the school. Yes, that Carrie — that’s the movie A. wants to name our baby girl after (should we have a girl). I bought the DVD for A. for our first Christmas together. We watched it one cold Sunday in his Virginia apartment and laughed hysterically at the sound effects (ree ree). I had no idea it’s really a comedy. But to name our daughter after that movie seems to me… I dunno. Just wrong.
Then, as luck would have it, when A. heard his mom say Carrie with a New Jersey accent, he said, “OK, no, no, can’t go with that.” [Thank you, Vikki!] That was more than two months ago.
Since then, A. adopted the named Cholula (have I mentioned we don’t know if it’s a boy or girl?), after his favorite hot sauce. A. started dousing all of his food in Cholula when he was in Afghanistan, and has been addicted ever since. He even puts it on plain Greek yogurt (I just gagged as I typed that.)
I said Cholula sounds like a stripper’s name (no offense to other Cholulas in the world). He said, “Look at the bottle! The lady is homely.” And then he tried to soften it by saying we can call the baby Lulu. OK, that’s cute. But no.
But then, two nights ago, A. said he still liked Carrie — he likes C. names. And so we got talking about names again — which is good, cause we’re running out of time, and names are a really big deal. We spent an hour with baby name books, ticking through different ones and their meanings and making each other laugh.
A. came up with two boys’ names and then acted as if the case was closed. “That’s your final offer, huh?” I said and he nodded and laughed.
I’m pretty sure we’ll have some sort of clue when the baby arrives — we’re getting closer. Yesterday, my sister-in-law suggested a symbol, like the artist formerly known as Prince who is Prince once again. The one she picked is pretty cool, even if I can’t find the second symbol on the keyboard. Maybe we’ll do that. Hey, why not?