I’ve never been the best person to help name something. Case in point, my dimwitted, snaggletoothed, semi-blind Pekingese, Poco.
About fourteen years ago, Andrea saw him in the pet store that we wandered into and “had to have him”. At a $500 plus price tag, I had absolutely no intention of purchasing this palm-sized ball of fur. Besides, I knew that there was no way in hell that she would actually take care of him, and told her as much.
Yeah… I wasn’t always the brightest bulb on the sting.
This spun into a whole big discussion about how if I didn’t think she’d be a good mother I should just tell her as much, and then I forged my sarcasm (which frankly, she never got) into a gigantic shovel in which to dig a hole. A hole that the purchase of one fluffy puppy not only got me out of, but put me firmly back into the “sweetest guy ever” category.
However, when it came to naming him, I wasn’t much help. What I would do, was hold him in the palm of my hand, pet him on the belly and say in a Mexican accent that sounded far more like Apu(from the Simpson’s) than Cheech, “You are small. You are veeeery ugly. And most assuredly, you smell like a dead possum. But mainly, you are just small.” Each time I would say it I’d mix it up slightly, but we found it funny enough that we named him Poco, which is “small” in Spanish.
The joke was funny for about a month… then we were over it.
As predicted, she quickly lost interest in said furball, and I had to take care of him. When Andrea and I were going through our big breakup, Poco would stand in front of me, bearing his bottom teeth—and only the bottom teeth—and growl at her. At the time, that was all 6 pounds of him. Now that was some funny shit. But I digress.
Point is, fourteen years later, I love this dog like a semi-retarded son, but the best name I could come up with came about because I didn’t know how to say “ugly” in Spanish.
I tell you all of this not because I want you to have a deeper insight into the emotional scaring of my dog, but to express how god-awful terrible I am at naming things.
So now, Jenn and I have to come up with a name for our child. Since we won’t know whether it’s a boy or a girl for a few more weeks, we’ve been coming up with a boy’s name and a girl’s name.
Personally, I had no idea how difficult that would be. It’s amazing to me how many names get disqualified based on our various life experiences.
For example, I had a friend named Ian when I was growing up, and was always fond of the name, but he was a complete punk and my family pretty much hated him, so if the name Ian was a contender I’d end up having my parents ask me time and time again why I would name him after “such a jerk”. Actually, I think my good God fearing family might actually have a few stronger works then jerk if Ian came up.
Likewise, Jenn’s not fond of the name Quinn because she knew a guy named Quinton at her school and he was an arrogant ass.
I always liked the name Sarah, but it’s just bad form to name your first born the same name as the last girl you dated before you got married, even if you did go back to being friends afterwards.
Then there’s family names. For example, Jenn loves her sister Michele. Hell, I love Chele too. There have been very few people in the world I’ve dropped my guard around and become friends with quite as quickly as my sweet n’ sassy sister-in-law. However, anyone that’s read the top 5 heartbreak list knows why we’re not going with the name Michelle, Rachelle or some variation thereof.
My dad’s a great guy, but having shared his first name (for those of you that don’t know, my first name is Kent, but I go by Alan) I know the number of people that use the exact same joke of “Kent? As in Clark ?” And when you just look at them like they’re an idiot, they usually just try to explain more in their desperate attempt at being funny, “You know… like Superman? Clark Kent!” Yuk yuk.
Then we have the names that get questioned because of what kids in the schoolyard might say. Jenn and I both love the name Isabella (Izzy or Bell ) but each time I’ve mentioned it to J he says, “Isabella is a fella.” Ugh.
And we’ve got the names that would just be confusing. I mean, long before I met Jenn I wanted to name my son Nathan. However, we’ve got a nephew by that name. And my brother and sister-in-law have another nephew (so is that my nephew-in-law?) by the name Dillon.
We could go biblical, and have given some thought to the name Zachariah. However, running down the list of the top biblical names:
Matthew? my brother’s name and a contender.
Mark? Oh hell no. I’d rather give him that weird Prince symbol as a name first.
Luke? Too Skywalker.
John? As in Doe? Frankly, to blah.
So anyway, this naming thing has gone back and forth for months, and I think we’ve narrowed it down to two strong finalist.
Jacob Matthew Copeland or Sophia Anne Copeland.
Obviously either or both are subject to change with the fickle whim of my lovely wife,(and the equally fickle readers of vote4whatjensays.com) but this is where we’re at as of the end of November.
Jacob is the name Jenn would have had if she was a boy, and the nickname she had growing up. One of the things I truly can’t wait to see is all of the aspects of Jennifer that the baby has. I’ve really warmed to the nicknames Jack and Jake as well.
As mentioned, Matthew is my brother’s name and he’s one of the greatest men I’ve ever met.
Anne is a family name on my mother’s side, and Sophia…? Well Sophia’s just the most beautiful name I’ve ever heard.
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*** FYI, I've upgraded to the new version of blogger. Hopefully this should help with the issues some were having with posting replies on my journal.
