One kid, a zillion names

G-man 

G

GiGi

G-money

G-monkey

G-love

Jeepers

Boo-Boo

Boo Bear

Boo Bunny

BooBooLicious

Monkey

Munchkin

Fussy McGillicuddy

Cranky McGillicuddy

Mr. Stinkypants

Mr. Happypants

Nakee Butt 

Booger Butt 

Sillers

Silly Willy

Shmoopie

Punkin

Baby

Cutie-Pie

Sweetie-Pie

Stinker

Super Duper G-man

A question in the baby books: Does your child turn towards you if you say his name?

An answer from me: Sometimes. 

Can you blame him? We use so many nicknames he probably doesn't even really know what his real name is! We're lucky if he responds to even a few of them. Why can't we just use the one on his birth certificate? I have no idea. Nicknames are a natural. When we chose his name (after a LOOONG debate in the hospital), we immediately thought of the possible alternates and some contenders dropped out of the race based on their secondary issues. 

For example, he was close to being an Anthony. We already have Thomas, Timothy and Tino in the house. Could a Tony really stand out?

Did the elegant Vincent, a tribute to my great-grandmother Vicenzenia, lose its charm as a Vinny, conjuring up images of a sleeveless white undershirt?

Would any Dominic, other than DiMaggio, make an MLB club? And could it be the Yankees?

When I think of how we agonized over his first name, and how much we use nicknames instead - that often have nothing to do with it - I wonder what all the fuss was about. 

We went into the hospital with two long lists - boy names and girl names. At least it was cut in half once we had our baby boy. But narrowing it down from there was quite difficult. Who was this kid? Who would he become? We held him up to nurses and asked them to find his name on our list. We stared at him trying to find a clue. We looked to make sure he didn't have a label somewhere like a stuffed animal Hi! My name is Francis! (By the way, that would have been really convenient.) We practiced calling him anything. Back to the list. Crossing things off. Reconsidering long ago additions. Rethinking each syllable, each letter. More staring. More nurse polling. The doctor voted for Robert, but that was his name and not even on our list. We heard the pros and cons of names other people liked. At one point, the birth certificate nazi told us we had until noon on our third day to pick something or she'd file as Baby Boy and we'd have to pony up $40 to the state to change it later. Great, a deadline and the threat of this costing even more. We didn't need that kind of pressure.

C'mon baby, tell us who you are! The clock is ticking, the form is waiting, your parents are just as curious to know.

In the end, we had our wonderful top five. And then that slowly dwindled until, poof! it went away completely. We ended up with a sleeper name, one we had never really given serious consideration to. But there it was, on the list. We looked at him, we looked at the name. If he hadn't been that baby, in those circumstances, we wouldn't have given it a second glance. But lo and behold, a name! Quick, right it down! Tell someone and make it official! Now run home - don't forget the baby - and wonder if you made the right choice.

Of course, we love it. It suits him. And now that I'm moving into that tried and true mom usage of sternly calling out the full name - first and middle - when he's up to trouble, it's definitely perfect.