The name game

So many people have asked me what names I have picked out for my soon-to-be-little one. As it will still be several weeks until I find out the sex of the baby, I have decided to pick a girl and a boy name now and not change it throughout the remainder of the pregnancy. This seems like a good plan, that is, unless I find out I'm giving birth to a litter of chihuahuas.

However, since part of my pregnancy 'side effects' include indecisiveness, I don't know if I'll be able to stick to my plan. But I suppose I must if I want any monogrammed or personalized gifts to be presentable. I seriously doubt my child would appreciate a diaper bag emblazoned with 'Billy Jack' or "Flo". And, no. I am not naming any child of mine that.

First of all, I have decided to choose names in keeping with my family heritage. I consider it honorable to name children after family, living or deceased. It implies that not only do you love and honor those family members, but also that you value your heritage and are proud to associate your child with your family. Sadly, many people I know would just as soon see their family members drop dead, rather than try have a meaningful relationship with them. That must be a real drag at Christmas and birthday time, the lack of presents must surely suck.

Secondly, I totally and completely abhor names that are contrived, engineered or otherwise made up...just doesn't make sense to me. There are plenty of good ole' names out there that will do just fine without making your child suffer scorn for his/her entire life.
Just imagine this scenario: Roll call, your child's first day of kindergarten.

Teacher: "Jack Adams."
JA: "Here."
Teacher: "Rachel Allison"
RA: "Here."
Teacher: Pause. "Bracken.........Burns?"
BB: Silence
Teacher: "BRACKEN BURNS????"
BB: *in a tiny, humiliated, almost inaudible voice* "Present."

Sounds like a piece of heavy machinery used in construction, doesn't it? I realize that you may or may not like my choices, but they are tried and true names that belonged to actual people. So here goes.

"Sylviann Estelle Burt"

If I have a girl, the first name will be after my late mother, Sylvia Ann Rice Burt. It will give me so much joy to hear that name on a daily basis, and there is no other name on earth that would give my child more honor. I decided to combine her first and middle name, and call her 'Sylvi' for short. The middle name is from my great-paternal-grandmother, Estelle McGeehee Burt. My grandfather Neal told me I favored his mother's looks more than any of her grandchildren, so I think it's a fitting middle name. This woman was tough...she gave birth to TEN children, one of which was Fred Burt. Enough said. She was short, stacked, sassy, and very robust. Sound familiar? One other thing she did was dip Garrett snuff. I don't care for snuff myself, but I remember visiting her, and seeing that Folger's coffee can sitting on the table. She would hook her finger in the edge of the can, lift it to her chin and 'pffftttoo'. I really think the name itself will give added zing when I'm trying to get my child's attention, too - "Sylviann ESTELLE!!! DO YOU HEAR ME????"

"Coleman Haddox Burt"

I could not choose a boy's name without including part of my father's given name, Robert Coleman Burt, Sr. I have always loved the name 'Cole', so that will be his name for short. I found out after having chosen that name, that it had quite a history. According to my father, we had a distant cousin many years ago named Coleman Haddox who hailed from down in Texas, and he was a man who stood for justice. Apparently, there was an evil warden who shot the young son of a poor widow just because he could. Coleman heard about it, went and found the warden, and shot him dead to avenge the little boy's death. Sound's like good people to me. The name Haddox was the surname of my great-paternal-grandfather Henry Pierce Haddox, whom my father adored. Sadly, he died when my father was just six years old.

And so, the mystery is revealed. This youngun will be Cole or Sylvi. Now I have just a few more weeks to find out just which one it will be. This is more exiting that watching The Price is Right.

Not So Looney

This Saturday, my great-niece will celebrate her first birthday. As with most kid's birthday parties these days, it will have a theme based on popular children's characters. Little B's will feature these critters:

They are cute, colorful, cheerful, and they like to sing and dance. Kinda reminds you of a Broadway revue of Sesame Street. I'm sure most parents would agree that the characters are wholesome and educational for their small children to watch. But it seems like all these cartoons eventually just meld into one big kaleidoscope of fluffy, puffy Technicolor animal blobs (i.e. Barney, Doodle bops, Blue's Clues and the like). I love you, you love me, blah-blah-blah. What about when everyone doesn't love everyone?

I looooong for the days when cartoon characters had just that...character. Gone are the days when kids could actually witness real life lessons via their favorite Saturday morning characters, because now the powers that be have deemed these treasures of old as 'too violent'. Ahem, excuse me? Those cartoons weren't violent, they were real, and taught me many, many valuable lessons.

For instance, I learned what really happened when one falls off a cliff. Smack, you hit bottom, and probably break into a thousand pieces just before a large boulder falls on your head. Lesson: Don't fall off a cliff. Simple, isn't it? Nothing on this earth compares to my beloved Looney Tunes. Yes, they got blown up, run over by trains, shot into outer space, and otherwise bludgeoned. But they were intelligent, funny, witty, educational and extremely entertaining. And they more often than not taught us what NOT to do. And one never worried about political correctness when Bugs Bunny was pulling a fast one on Elmer Fudd. Elmer had that one coming.

No, in the real world, cats and dogs don't always get along...but at the end of the cartoon, they still appreciate each other's differences.

Sweet dreams are made of these...

When I first saw this bedding, I knew it would be perfect for my little one. I must have looked at hundreds of patterns, colors and themes...but when i saw this, I thought it would be great for a girl or boy. The name of the bedding is rather appropriate for me, too...Latte. That's right...the bedding is named after coffee. Delicious, don't you think?

I love the little mobile, and the earth tones are down-to-earth yet vibrant. In my typical shabby-chic fashion, I will paint the artwork myself and maybe add personal touches, too. I'm hoping this look will carry over for the toddler years and maybe beyond. By adding new things as the baby gets older, I should be able to transform the look of the room without changing the main elements. The only aspect of this look that will be different will be the bed itself. I prefer a more antique furniture style, this is a bit too modern for me. At first, I thought I wanted white furniture, but now I'm leaning toward darker wood. It will match Maw Rice's antique vanity, and Mamaw Myrtle's rocking chair.

So, my main colors will be butter yellow(antique white), chocolate brown, rust/orange and light blue (look closely and you will see a bit of blue in the leaf patterns). I can add more blue if I'm having a little boy.

Aunt T is already working on an antique white blanket with earth-tone accents, it's absolutely gorgeous so far. Plus, Aunt Na Na is knitting a blanket, too...I'm not sure about the color on that one, but I'll love it regardless. Many thanks to Chris and Janet for the 'mommy' clothes you donated to me, and to Aunt Jan for my goodie bag and baby toy. I love you all very, very much.

As I get the nursery ready, I'll take pictures of my progress and post them here. Every day, my happiness grows along with my little precious one.

Say what? The Pilot Episode

All you ladies out there who are mommies already will surely enjoy this.

The comments and advice have begun, already. And so far, they have been astonishing. I will share a few with you from time to time throughout my pregnancy, starting with these.

Get a load of this.

Me: "Hi there, ______. It's so good to see you...I'm expecting my first child this summer, and I'm thrilled!"

Response 1: "Ohhhhh! when did you get married?"

Response 2: "How old are you again, 45?"

Response 3: "Your life is officially over, so get used to it."

Response 4: "You'll be a great mother, raising kids is just like raising puppies."

Response 5: "How are your nipples?"

Response 6: "You had better hope you don't have a tilted uterus."

Response 7: "Wow. I thought you didn't want kids."

Response 8: "Wow. I thought you were too old to have kids."

Response 9: "You don't look pregnant."

(And now for my all-time favorite response so far, this one spoken by blood-kin in such hushed tones that it may never reach the tender ears of Jesus Himself)

Response 5: "Uh-huh...who's the father?"

The Blue Period.

Recently, I looked back at some of my first entries on this website. And to my chagrin, most of the stuff I wrote was just so....well, serious. I suppose I was going through some sort of reflective/depressed period in which writing down my thoughts for all the world to see would somehow help me muddle through whatever crisis I was enduring at that time. So, I guess all my shameless spewing must have served some purpose, didn't it? Let's call it self-therapy...and please don't think I'm discounting all the wonderful words of support from friends. You helped me more than you know.

No doubt, I went through some rough stuff, i.e. the loss of my mother, several failed relationhips, blah-blah-blah. But, gahhh! I was such a wallower. Maybe I'm being too critical of myself, but I'm just. so. bored. with negativity. It's embarrassing to realize I was so weak minded for such a long time. Thankfully, that time in my life is o-vah. One thing I've learned is that I'm responsible for my happiness, and nobody else.

All my innocence is officially gone, the illusion is shattered, the pie-in-the-sky has fallen, and is cascading down over me like a sticky, sweet shroud.

So now, I will try my dead level best to look up, move forward, chin up, and be happy. After all, I have so much to be happy about. So I will bid farewell to my blue days, and look forward to sunny days coated in yellow, orange and red...and leave the depressing stuff to someone else. I have better things to do, like get a nursery ready for my precious little somebody. Bye-bye, blue.

Yes sir, that's my baby

My first doctor visit was last week, and I now have the first photo for my baby's book.

But, unfortunately, I cannot show it to you as this POS computer refuses to upload it to blogland. *grumbling under my breath* So please be patient, family and friends. I will try to solve the problem soon. Let it suffice to say that yes, it was the most gorgeous baby ever, and I could actually see him/her waving to the camera. Like momma, like baby.

The ultrasound was fascinating enough, but the very best part of the whole visit happened when my doc used a small, walkman-like device in the office. She pressed it to my tummy, and I heard the most beautiful sound I've heard so far in my life...whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...that precious little heartbeat! That sound came from inside ME. I'm still speechless when I think about it. I could see the heartbeat on the ultrasound, but there was nothing like hearing it for the first time ever. Amazing.

Of course, they took a stunningly large amount of blood from me for initial tests. I just hope the results don't come back 'patient has irreversible airhead syndrome' and 'please refer for psychiatric evaluation'. I swear, my hormones have organized a hostile takeover of my body and all its parts, and I don't like it. I'll just have to remember that it's okay to cry at the drop of a hat, especially while flipping through radio stations on the way to work and accidentally pausing on a ripping rendition of Barry Manilow's 'Mandy'. Wow. I really am pathetic.

Still feeling great, except for the sleep lost making 1,534 trips to the bathroom each night. Hopefully, this will slow down soon...along with all the bizarre dreams I'm having. Example: I was looking toward my dad's house and noticed a helicopter hovering over the yard. There were men repelling to the ground, and they were armed. So I crawl around the edge of the woods, waylay one of the guys, and take his Kalashnikov. I then proceed to kill all the Iraqis in my dad's yard and shoot down the helicopter. I guess my clip was full. After all, I can't have a bunch of Iraqis trying to take over my dad's house, where would we go at Christmas?

Weird dreams aside, I'm not a violent person. Apparently, pregnancy hormones do a lot more than just grow a baby. They obviously make you adept with AK-47's.

A World of Firsts

First doctor visit is tomorrow! (Updates will be forthwith following tomorrow's visit.)

Nervous, excited, hopeful...the only thing I'm NOT feeling is nausea. Hooray! The majority of women I've talked to say that had at least some sickness. But, so far for me? Nada.

And talk about becoming a complete airhead overnight. Sheesh, I embarrass myself with my cluelessness. Does this last through the entire nine months and beyond? I've heard people say they lost their minds after having kids, but in no way did I take that literally.

Please...someone tell me that I won't speak in broken, bubblegum popping sentences a la Britney Spears after the baby comes. Please, dear God, no.

I must say, the whole fam damily seems to be as ecstatic as I am. But I think they are feigning excitement in lieu of admitting the real truth...they just cannot wait for the 'baby' of the family to pay for her raising. That's right, people, I'm on to you. You are all sitting back, twiddling your collective thumbs, praying that I will deliver a hellion worthy of the title, Meanest Little Imp That Ever Lived. Well, I've got news...even if I do give birth to an imp, it will be the sweetest, cutest, most perfectly huggable imp, ever.

I'll try not to become totally engrossed in the whole baby process, blogwise. The new still hasn't worn off this thing, so be patient. I will temper my posts with something that is really interesting from time to time.

Like what fiber laxatives work best without giving you gas that repeats like a Howitzer.