While doing a last-minute check on the books that are being put out for the garage sale, we found a list of names.
Here is what I almost named my daughter:
- Astrid (we’re German)
- Avalon (it reminds me of Baltimore – ever see the movie Avalon? I wanted something more than Ava)
- Emma (because there aren’t enough of them in the United States these days)
- Lillian (she was thissssscloooose to being named Lilliana – like 3 days away)
And if I’d had a son:
- Quinn (I promise I would not have named the boy Aiden Quinn…)
- Samuel (top pick)
- Delaney (seriously?)
- Jaron (I don’t know where this came from)
My daughter’s real name was not very common back in 2001 and that trend continued for a few years, leaving me to feel all clever and stuff, like I’d beaten the baby name popularity contest by not naming her Emma or Brianna or Sophia. Part of my daughter’s name is on that girls’ list and I still wish that I’d given that name to her as her first. Surprisingly, like it’s their business, a lot of people say to me, “But you’re so young! You’ll find someone that you’ll want to have children with and you can give that name to your next daughter!”
Um, excuse me. Where were you when I went mental during my pregnancy? Maybe to you it was simply a phase. You know, like a string a bad grades and back-talking my parents during high school or something. Go read this little story about my brush with Teh Craaaazy and come back and tell me it’ll be okay during the next go-around. I’m honestly too afraid to try again.
Besides, I don’t like babies.*
There. I said it.
*I don’t HATE babies. They just scare me. This scene from License To Wed is exactly why:
Icky stuff. Coming out of babies. Not my thing. Hand the kid over to me when it’s two years old and I’m all over it!