I love to read. I sometimes read a novel a day, but the past few weeks I read more and more blogs, and I really love all of the creativity floating around. Recently I’ve noticed that some of my fellow bloggers have the best nicknames for their better (or shall I say other) halves. I read about hubbies who are referred to as “The Captain” or “Mad Dog” or “The Knight“. Some of the bloggers on dating adventures have been referring to their leading characters as “The Ambassador” or “Captain Amazing” or “The Cowboy“. I feel referring to my other half as “the hubby” just isn’t cutting it.
I mean names are of utmost importance in this world. It’s often the very first thing we are judged by. I took it very seriously when I gave my children their names. For example, my oldest son’s name is Sean Dylan. Sean, after his dad, means “a gift from God” and Dylan means “faithful and true”. How fitting for a first-born son to be a gift from God, faithful and true! Choosing a name is nothing to take lightly.
Which is why last night I was taken somewhat aback when my oldest son told me he has picked out the names for my grandchildren. Granted, his older sister has done the same, but she chose names like Tabitha and Maverick. I can live with Tabitha and Maverick. I’m looking forward to Tabitha and Maverick. But I’m just hoping my son marries a girl who knows when to step in and take control, other wise it looks like I will be baking cakes for children bearing the names “Norbit” and “Rasputia”.
I was still trying to process this information (while tuning out the freckle face snickering) when my younger son piped up and said “I’m naming my kids ‘Beavis and Butthead’. This really amused my friend, who just had to ask, “Which one’s the girl?” (Because everyone, as we know, has one boy, and one girl!) Without missing a beat, he replied “Butt-head!”
If I don’t have the kind of daughter-in-laws who know how to wear the pants when its necessary, I guess I will have to take matters into my own hands, because I’ve heard the word Butthead all too often without giving one of our children such a ridiculous moniker. (I give my kids non-ridiculous monikers, like Blondie and Pickles, nothing remotely silly.) Meanwhile, I won’t bother to burst their bubbles. I will let them have their fun and go on believing they will actually be able to name their children with these prized namesakes they obviously cherish.
For now, I will just focus on finding a nickname for my hubby in the bloggosphere. He has several I could choose from. Some of his friends call him Fuzz. I’m guessing this has something to do with his hair, or lack there of. Or I could call him Chicken. Yep, I’m married to a man some people refer to as Chicken. I guess this is because he once took apart a large box in the body shop he was working at, taped the cardboard to his arms like wings, and danced around doing the funky chicken. He was later rewarded with a free T’shirt and beanie hat from our local franchise, Chicken Express, which he proudly wears… I said I was married, I never told you he was normal! Or maybe I could choose from one of the online names he’s sported over the years, such as Fuzzlightyear, or FuzzyMavMan, or better yet, back in the chat room days he once called himself Duck Butter. Now Fuzzlightyear was obviously a spin-off of Buzzlightyear, and FuzzyMavMan has to do with his obsession for Mavericks (the cars, not the team), but don’t ask me what Duck Butter is supposed to be, because I don’t know. All I can say is that it’s not as bad as what his mother’s chat name used to be. Imagine logging into a chat-room, seeing a name like “Sweet Meat Eater” and saying to yourself, “look, there’s MOM!”