Choosing baby names is serious and complicated shit. It's so serious this is the second post I've made about it (and probably only the second of many). I've been reading many books and articles about choosing the right name and there is so much to consider:
Kids with common names perform better in school
If the child will have a short, one syllable last name you should choose a multi-syllabicate first name so it flows better
Consider potential nicknames that might spring from your name choice (Richard will almost assuredly be called Dick which will confuse everyone as to whether it is being used as his name or an adjective).
Make sure the child's initials won't spell anything unfortunate like ASS, DIK, FAG or GAY
Picking a name that won't get your child beaten up at recess (do they even have recess anymore?)
Not picking a name that will result in any unfortunate rhymes when singing The Name Game ( Chuck, Chuck, bo-buck. Banana-fana, fo ...)
Don't pick a name that will take you fifteen minutes to say when you reach "Full Name Anger" (Willamina Guinevere Rodriguez-Christenson, you stop that RIGHT NOW!)
It's all very stressful when you consider you're branding your child before they can speak for themselves. You can tell them "A rose by any other name would smell just as sweet," but if you truly feel the need to saddle your kid with something people need to rip out their tongue to pronounce correctly or sounds like a character out of The Crucible just make sure you don't teach them how to use an AK-47 or point out the local water tower every time you drive by.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
June 15th: 8 Simple Rules
8 Simple Rules for Being Around My Infant Daughter ... or Son
RULE #1: THOU SHALT NOT TOUCH THE BABY WITHOUT ASKING
If we know you, please ask first. The baby may have just been washed or eaten and doesn't need jostling or getting dirty again. Plus, honestly, we have no idea where your hands have been and it's very important (not to mention tricky) trying to keep a baby healthy. If I don't know you, you're not touching my kid period.
RULE #2: THOU SHALT NOT HAND-OFF THE BABY UNTO OTHERS
This is an extension of rule one. It's a baby not a football. Think basketball -- if we pass the baby to you, pass it back before taking the shot yourself.
RULE #3: THOU SHALT NOT FEED SOLID FOOD TO THE BABY
Baby food is mushy for a reason. It is the perfect consistency for a baby. What isn't is a hot dog, Doritos, Oreo, hamburger, mac and cheese, steak or cheesecake. All will be confiscated and eaten by the parents with extreme prejudice and a little bit of indigestion.
RULE #4: THOU SHALT RESPECT THE FATHER AND MOTHER
You can disagree all you want. You can give as much advice as you have. You can seriously question their sanity. You can privately express concern. However, if you correct or chastise the parents in front of the baby or others duct tape will make its way to your mouth upon future visits.
RULE #5: THOU SHALT NOT DO SHIT BEHIND THE PARENTS' BACKS
If we find out all baby privileges will be revoked.
RULE #6: THOU SHALT NOT CREATE NICKNAMES FOR THE BABY
The baby's name is the baby's name. Respect it. Learn to love it. If you can't, see "Learn to love it."
RULE #7: THOU SHALT NOT MAKE LOUD NOISES AROUND THE BABY
Babies scare easily. It's a fact of life. While it may seem "cute" to you when a baby scrunches their face up and starts bawling, you don't have to deal with said child later on and it's very possible you just gave the kid a near fear to overcome.
RULE #8: THOU SHALT GIVE THE PARENTS SPACE
New babies are exciting, we know that, but they're also exhausting and frenetic. Sometimes, most likely a lot, the parents will need a break from the hoopla of everyone else being fascinated by their baby. Parents and baby need quiet private time together, i.e., alone, by themselves, without others, sans additional people, with carbon-based units lacking in numbers around them. Don't take offense. It's not you. They're just as fascinated by their baby as you are and they need time to bond which requires that, yes, you not be around.
RULE #1: THOU SHALT NOT TOUCH THE BABY WITHOUT ASKING
If we know you, please ask first. The baby may have just been washed or eaten and doesn't need jostling or getting dirty again. Plus, honestly, we have no idea where your hands have been and it's very important (not to mention tricky) trying to keep a baby healthy. If I don't know you, you're not touching my kid period.
RULE #2: THOU SHALT NOT HAND-OFF THE BABY UNTO OTHERS
This is an extension of rule one. It's a baby not a football. Think basketball -- if we pass the baby to you, pass it back before taking the shot yourself.
RULE #3: THOU SHALT NOT FEED SOLID FOOD TO THE BABY
Baby food is mushy for a reason. It is the perfect consistency for a baby. What isn't is a hot dog, Doritos, Oreo, hamburger, mac and cheese, steak or cheesecake. All will be confiscated and eaten by the parents with extreme prejudice and a little bit of indigestion.
RULE #4: THOU SHALT RESPECT THE FATHER AND MOTHER
You can disagree all you want. You can give as much advice as you have. You can seriously question their sanity. You can privately express concern. However, if you correct or chastise the parents in front of the baby or others duct tape will make its way to your mouth upon future visits.
RULE #5: THOU SHALT NOT DO SHIT BEHIND THE PARENTS' BACKS
If we find out all baby privileges will be revoked.
RULE #6: THOU SHALT NOT CREATE NICKNAMES FOR THE BABY
The baby's name is the baby's name. Respect it. Learn to love it. If you can't, see "Learn to love it."
RULE #7: THOU SHALT NOT MAKE LOUD NOISES AROUND THE BABY
Babies scare easily. It's a fact of life. While it may seem "cute" to you when a baby scrunches their face up and starts bawling, you don't have to deal with said child later on and it's very possible you just gave the kid a near fear to overcome.
RULE #8: THOU SHALT GIVE THE PARENTS SPACE
New babies are exciting, we know that, but they're also exhausting and frenetic. Sometimes, most likely a lot, the parents will need a break from the hoopla of everyone else being fascinated by their baby. Parents and baby need quiet private time together, i.e., alone, by themselves, without others, sans additional people, with carbon-based units lacking in numbers around them. Don't take offense. It's not you. They're just as fascinated by their baby as you are and they need time to bond which requires that, yes, you not be around.
Friday, June 10, 2011
June 10th
Baby room colors. Once upon a time choosing the color for your baby's room ahead of time was simple: you didn't, and even then when the baby was born your palette de choice was automatically whittled down to blue or pink as soon as your baby inhaled Lysol-infused hospital air for the first time.
Times have changed. People usually know far in advance of the birth what they're baby's sex will be, yet they also don't allow themselves to be pinned in by only two color schemes. Ultimately, colors will have to be picked and I'm convinced the reason many woman say their labor pains weren't as bad as they feared is because they've already gone paint hunting with their husband.
At some point you will likely mosey on into a Lowes or a Home Depot. They, as well as all of your local home improvement stores, all now possess entire sections of their expanse dedicated to paint colors. The employees are more than willing to help creating an even bigger illusion that this decision will be a piece of cake. Lies. All lies. And then there are the books. Those <sarcasm> oh so helpful </sarcasm> books and magazines exploding with ideas and pictures. Oh yes, the pictures. Those gorgeous glossy invitations screaming "PICK ME!" at the top of their perfectly coordinated and professionally decorated lungs. You'll notice I said "professionally." That's because the one thing they don't want you to think about is the fact the reason the thing looks so God damn good is IT WAS DONE BY SOMEONE PAID TO DO IT! It looks so amazing because it's NOT as easy as it looks, but they wouldn't sell as many gallons of paint if they lead on for even one moment that you need expensive professional help to get it as perfect as it is in the pictures. Many people, however, are able to overcome all of these obstacles and pick the perfect color scheme without issue.
And then there is Susana and myself.
For the record, Susana is actually very accomplished at doing painting, home improvements and everything I'm supposed to be able to do well because I have testicles. Sadly, I did not get that genome, but Susana's impressively self-taught experience more than makes up for it. I fully and readily admit it was I, Mark Post, father of Susana's unborn child and love of her life, who utterly screwed the pooch on trying to pick paint colors.
You have to understand, when picking colors with your significant other, it is important to note there are only six residents of the male color spectrum: red, blue, green, black, their favorite team's colors and "what the fuck is that?" It should be noted, of course, that black is not a color (it's a light spectrum -- there's no color because it absorbs lights so your eyes can't detect anything. End science lesson.). Men will argue with you on this because they can clearly see things "colored" black. They can also see Megan Fox "act" so their judgment is a bit suspect anyway. Men also refuse to acknowledge white as a viable color because white is boring unless it is being used as a background to demonstrate just how cool a cherry red Corvette looks.
When Susana and I went shopping for paint last year it was an adventure. Many trips to Home Depot resulted in frustration, primarily from my inability to tell the difference from, say, canary and lemon drop. Susana has a keen eye for detail when it comes to color. She can spot that difference from a mile away. Where to me yellow is yellow, red is red and pink must never, ever be used on a wall under penalty of death (thankfully, we agree on the last part).
So, to men everywhere, I suggest this: nod and say "Yes dear." the fact is you CAN'T tell the difference between canary and lemon drop, but she can. Picking colors is something that, by definition of being a man, you suck at doing. Don't waste all your pull by arguing there is no difference between kelly green and forest green when there are bigger fish to fry. The more you're willing to give on paint the more chips you have to cash in later, maybe on picking a name. After all, which is worse, having to admit there are 2 million shades of blue or allowing your new daughter to be named after her favorite dead aunt Wilhelmina?
Times have changed. People usually know far in advance of the birth what they're baby's sex will be, yet they also don't allow themselves to be pinned in by only two color schemes. Ultimately, colors will have to be picked and I'm convinced the reason many woman say their labor pains weren't as bad as they feared is because they've already gone paint hunting with their husband.
At some point you will likely mosey on into a Lowes or a Home Depot. They, as well as all of your local home improvement stores, all now possess entire sections of their expanse dedicated to paint colors. The employees are more than willing to help creating an even bigger illusion that this decision will be a piece of cake. Lies. All lies. And then there are the books. Those <sarcasm> oh so helpful </sarcasm> books and magazines exploding with ideas and pictures. Oh yes, the pictures. Those gorgeous glossy invitations screaming "PICK ME!" at the top of their perfectly coordinated and professionally decorated lungs. You'll notice I said "professionally." That's because the one thing they don't want you to think about is the fact the reason the thing looks so God damn good is IT WAS DONE BY SOMEONE PAID TO DO IT! It looks so amazing because it's NOT as easy as it looks, but they wouldn't sell as many gallons of paint if they lead on for even one moment that you need expensive professional help to get it as perfect as it is in the pictures. Many people, however, are able to overcome all of these obstacles and pick the perfect color scheme without issue.
And then there is Susana and myself.
For the record, Susana is actually very accomplished at doing painting, home improvements and everything I'm supposed to be able to do well because I have testicles. Sadly, I did not get that genome, but Susana's impressively self-taught experience more than makes up for it. I fully and readily admit it was I, Mark Post, father of Susana's unborn child and love of her life, who utterly screwed the pooch on trying to pick paint colors.
You have to understand, when picking colors with your significant other, it is important to note there are only six residents of the male color spectrum: red, blue, green, black, their favorite team's colors and "what the fuck is that?" It should be noted, of course, that black is not a color (it's a light spectrum -- there's no color because it absorbs lights so your eyes can't detect anything. End science lesson.). Men will argue with you on this because they can clearly see things "colored" black. They can also see Megan Fox "act" so their judgment is a bit suspect anyway. Men also refuse to acknowledge white as a viable color because white is boring unless it is being used as a background to demonstrate just how cool a cherry red Corvette looks.
When Susana and I went shopping for paint last year it was an adventure. Many trips to Home Depot resulted in frustration, primarily from my inability to tell the difference from, say, canary and lemon drop. Susana has a keen eye for detail when it comes to color. She can spot that difference from a mile away. Where to me yellow is yellow, red is red and pink must never, ever be used on a wall under penalty of death (thankfully, we agree on the last part).
So, to men everywhere, I suggest this: nod and say "Yes dear." the fact is you CAN'T tell the difference between canary and lemon drop, but she can. Picking colors is something that, by definition of being a man, you suck at doing. Don't waste all your pull by arguing there is no difference between kelly green and forest green when there are bigger fish to fry. The more you're willing to give on paint the more chips you have to cash in later, maybe on picking a name. After all, which is worse, having to admit there are 2 million shades of blue or allowing your new daughter to be named after her favorite dead aunt Wilhelmina?
Sunday, June 5, 2011
June 5th
After a long thought process I have decided I will not be cutting the umbilical cord. There are professionals much more qualified than myself to do the job and they're not getting any free labor out of me.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
June 4th
So, we're Facebook official. The ultrasound picture I uploaded yesterday is now online. Facebook approves. It told me so. Today we will be going to the movies with the group. It's not technically the baby's first movie since we've seen two ... no, three movies since we found out. Still, this will be the baby's coming out party to the group. Not that kind of coming out party. I don't have the right color boa for that.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
June 1st
Ah, a new month and a new week. We're now into week eight and so far every single thing I've read has correctly projected the path of Susana's pregnancy. There have been cravings, mood swings, big boobs, and a little belly. We are also two days away from the ultrasound. I've been looking up ultrasound pictures over the last week. The first one I looked at turned out to be for twins. The second, for triplets. The third went back to twins. Just when it started to feel like an omen I started looking at various pictures and videos and finally hit a string of single baby stuff. Basically we're looking for one thing on Friday: a heartbeat. We should be able to see or hear it. Fingers crossed in a wait-and-see pattern. If there are two I'm going to need a drink.
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