Posted in humor
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Yes, it's sad and ridiculous...but very, very true. Sometimes I can't remember HIS name...
Isn't that awful? And tragic? And slightly retarded? I've been so disturbed by this fact that it has caused a bit of reflection on my part in search for a REASON I can't remember my baby child's name. Here's what I've come up with so far.... 1. I'm mildly retarded. 2. I'm sleep deprived. 3. He has too many nicknames. Baby Jack, Jack-Jack, Cap'n Jack, Black Jack, Cracker Jack, Pepper Jack, Jack-in-the-Box...you name it. And the funny thing is, even with all these nicknames, do you know what I call him about 50% of the time? Two "names" actually....Baby and Bubba. One generic and one just plain hick. I guess I'm just a generic hick. A confused, indecisive generic hick. 4. I inherited a name-confusion gene from my late grandma. My grandma, bless her heart, had a hard time with names...especially if she was agitated or frustrated. I was called, for most of my life by her, Linda-Debbie-Bonnie-Cindy-Jody-Kellie. If she couldn't remember your name, she just started going down the list until she came to the right one. That list, by the way, is half dog names....and one was a boy. I regularly call my baby some combination of Harrison-Damon-Jackson. I even have called him Annaleigh a couple of times, but I don't want to talk about that. Even when Grandma got the first name right, she would sometimes falter on the middle name. After Harrison was born, she told two of her sisters on the phone that I had named our baby Harrison Ford. Thankfully, I or Indiana Mimi was close by and corrected her to Harrison Paul. The other day I made up a whole song with three verses and a bridge, all about Jackson Paul. When I was finished singing it to him, I looked up at Harrison who was sitting nearby listening. I asked him what he thought of my clever tune. "Oh, it's fine," he said smiling sweetly, "except his name is Jackson Henry." Oops. Grandma, if you're allowed to read my blog from Heaven, please know that I totally understand now, and I'm sorry for teasing you about this. Forgive me. 5. It has not been decided exactly what we are officially going to call him. OK...here's the deal. Up until about 3 or 4 weeks before his birth, his name was going to be William, but one day I just sat the family down and told them we had to come up with a new boy name, that William just wasn't right. Well, that was tough. I love the name Jack and brought it up again. Big D wasn't loving it. He likes longer names. We rolled around in a few more suggestions, and then we finally came to rest on Jackson. It was a good compromise. Well, fast-forward to the day he was born. We christened him Jackson Henry, which I think is the cutest, sweetest boy name in the world, and what does Big D do? He immediately starts calling him Baby Jack. Now, every time I go to call him by name I have a moment's hesitation when I'm not sure if Jackson or Jack is going to leave my lips. Mostly it's Jack...except when it's Baby or Bubba. 6. I'm either consuming too much or too little caffeine, and it's doing something funky to my brain cells. I keep going back and forth and can't decide, so I think I'll go brew a pot of coffee and ponder it some more before I have to feed what's his name. |
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