Sunday, January 17, 2010

'Gertrude,' or 'Why Picking Out Baby Names is Arguably the Crappiest Undertaking in the World'




I'm ready to off myself, folks. For real.


I've always been an indecisive person. If not properly motivated (or threatened) by the spouse, I'll spend hours in a store trying to choose between two nearly-identical books, video games, shirts, or what have you. This drives the ol' ball n' chain bonkers, but she's gotten used to it over the years (I attribute this indecision to the Hough OCD).

Now, accordingly, when it comes to 'big ticket items,' such as babies, the difficulty in selection becomes even greater. Naming the Cannonball was a feat unto itself, and it took us taking a mass-text poll directly before, during, and immediately after labor before Kris finally decided to name the kid 'Delilah.' Even after all of that tallying, averaging, analyzing, and evaluating, we still ended up going with the other name, 'Alayna.'

Lucky us, we get to do it all over again. As before, we immediately settled on a boy's name, right off the bat (Wyatt Ulysses - which would've been badass). When it became evident that the life-form growing inside Kris lacked a penis, however, we turned a quick about-face and settled upon a female middle name ('Mae'). This was the case, too, with Alayna (we settled on 'Renee' almost immediately).


Girls names are weird (no offense, ladies). I'd like nothing more than to name the kid something out-of-the-ordinary, like something from Greco-Roman mythology, but Kris isn't holding fast to any of my suggestions. I also have shot down several of her suggestions, which I won't delve into here for fear of reprisal. I'm so sick of this process, in fact, that I'm real close to just saying 'screw it' and naming the little trainwreck 'Gertrude' and being done with it.

Rest assured, readers, that picking out baby names is arguably one of the most unpleasant aspects of having children.


That, and getting poop on your hands. That's pretty bad, too.



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