What's in a name?

The unfortunate thing about the 1st trimester is that you really don't have much to do babywise. You don't need to go maternity clothes shopping (even though I did), you don't need to rush out and buy a crib and car seat (which I did), and you shouldn't paint the baby's room until you know the sex (yep, you guessed it, I did that too). You don't know the sex, you can't feel any kicks yet, and chances are you read What To Expect When You're Expecting (and the 17 other baby books you bought) cover to cover by week 7. There is nothing left to do except wait. Oh, and one little other minor detail of, you know, deciding what to call the little rugrat for the rest of its life...

For some people, it is an easy task. Some people don't care about the popularity of a name and go with Ava and Aiden. Bam, done. Some people have important persons in their family to honor, so they go with James Michael Rockefeller III and Evelyn Rosa Maria. Bam, done. Some people have had them picked out since they were 7 (Tiffany Amber and Jason Kirk) or they simply pick a favorite TV show character (Callie, Addison, Emma, Eva) and Bam, done. A lot of people just jump on the celebrity naming bandwagon and go with Maddox and Violet. But most people spend a great deal of time agonizing over the name.

What I don't understand is the major significance of the middle name and how it "flows". How many times in your life do you use your middle name? I think the most recent time I used mine was on Date #3 with my husband. Over chinese food he turned to me and said, "What's your middle name?" I replied, through a mouthful of Spicy Garlic Chicken, "Alysia." Seriously. That was the last time I even pondered my middle name.

People also get all bent out of shape over the initials. They don't want it to spell or signify anything.

"You can't name the middle name that, the initials will be PMS! Do you want her to go through life with the initials PMS??"

Are there a lot of people walking around with their initials embroidered on their jacket? When was the last time you got monogrammed towels? Do you care that much what your initials are? I have been blessed with the initials CAB for the past 31 years, and I have never lost a wink of sleep.

Even if you throw caution to the wind on these two points, you still have to come up with the "perfect" name. One that is cute, but they can still use as an adult. One that does not offer up any unpleasant nicknames. One that is meaningful. And then you find a name you like, look it up online, and find that it is #33 on the most popular names list. Well crap, I don't want my child to be like all the Jennifers and Jasons of my generation and have to use the first letter of their last name on everything. Scrap that one! But I also don't want something weird and made up sounding, or worse, something spelled "creatively" so that they have to spell it everytime they introduce themselves.

GAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *bangs head on desk*


Right now, I got Iris. I also like Lydia. Please don't ask me anything else about the name.

The longest 3 months of my life

I'm 12 weeks! Supposedly I can relax and not worry now. That is probably easier to do when you are not completely insane (please reference the title of the blog). I had a mini freak out yesterday and raced home to my doppler. It took me 10 minutes to find the little bugger. The whole time, awful thoughts raced through my head. When did I become so paranoid?

I babysat my 4-year-old niece last night. This sweet little only child is a home-schooled vegan adopted from Guatemala and being raised by her lesbian mommies. She has one mom who is a doctor, and one mom who stays at home with her. She is not...spoiled...but she is definitely used to being the center of the universe.

Watching her made me freak out about having another child. I am used to my Thursday nights spent with my 10-year-old, relaxing and eating Bacon Cheeseburger pizza while watching old Seinfeld or Arrested Development episodes, NOT eating Boca chicken fingers and watching Backyardigans. I like my Thursday nights, I like my alone time. I won't have anymore of those things come March.

My niece also has no sense of urgency, as my sister generally does not have a need to be anywhere at any specific time. Going anywhere with this child was an act of Congress. She insisted on doing everything herself, which took 10 minutes for each activity as simple as getting out of the car. She walked at a snail's pace, and stopped every 3 feet to look at something on the ground, in the sky, on display, etc. When I politely requested that she put a little hustle into it, she asked "Whyyyyyy?"

The little darling has a problem with anyone as an authority figure who is not her mommy or mama. As we checked out of the store, she spotted some gummy worms. She said she wanted them, and I said "Not today". She looked at me firmly and said, "My mommy lets me have them!", to which I replied sweetly, "Well I'm not your mommy." Still insistent on those gummy worms, my niece yells out "That's not fair!"

I turned to her (while the cashier watched with a slight smile on her lips) and snapped, "Yeah, well the fair only comes to town once a year, kiddo."

That shut her up.

I am hoping my lack of patience has more to do with my hormones than with my disinterest in starting over as a parent.

My cravings don't have a season!

Last night I was still dreaming of Pumpkin and Goat Cheese Croquettes, so I decided to make them at home. I found a recipe online, and headed out to HyVee to gather up the necessary ingrediants.



Fresh Sage. Check.

Fresh Thyme. Check.

Goat Cheese. Check.

Bread Crumbs. Check.

Eggs. Check.

Pumpkin....pumpkin...pumpkin...WHERE THE HELL IS THE PUMPKIN?!?



I asked an associate, who gave me a blank look as if to say, "Lady, it ain't Thanksgiving yet". Why is Thanksgiving the only acceptable time to buy canned pumpkin? Who decided that pumpkin shall only be used for pie, and that shall only be eaten in late November? Not a pregnant lady, that's for sure. My cravings don't know what month it is, they are like the T1000! They have one mission, and will destroy anyone who gets in the way of said mission!



The associate hailed down a manager, who promptly told me the past two seasons have been wet, which apparently is not conducive to the growth of pumpkins, so there is a "pumpkin shortage". She said Libby's has decided to hold all of their pumpkin until the holiday season.



"If you can find pumpkin anywhere in the city, I'll be surprised."



My head starts reeling. A pumpkin shortage? How many pumpkins did we carve last year? Three? That would have made at least 5 cans of Libby's puree! Every house on my block had at least two pumpkins sitting outside, spooky faces carved and candles burning inside. They sat there until the faces became saggy and wilted like an old man and were thrown in the garbage, or until the neighborhood teenagers smashed them on the pavement. All that beautiful orange fruit (veggie?) sprayed all over the sidewalk! Wasted! What kind of society do we live in where we take precious food that is in short supply, carve it up for decoration, and then smash it all over the place? No wonder the rest of the world hates America.



So I am still on a hunt for canned pumpkin. These damn T1000 cravings.

Mmmmm...that sounds good....

All I can think about is food. I am seriously pricing plane tickets to New York because at this one restaurant, Casa Mono, I fell in love with their Pumpkin and goat cheese croquettes. And their foie gras is to die for.

There was also this little french bistro downtown where I had an assortment of breads and cheeses, many of which I am no longer allowed to indulge in.

One time, I went to SoHo and had some of the best pizza I have ever had in my life. It was drizzled with white truffle oil. Real white truffle oil, not the fake stuff they try to pass off in KC.

The next morning, we went to the Village to have La Quiche de Espinardes at another french restaurant. It was absolute heaven. So good, in fact, that I didn't mind being squeezed in between the coat rack and the door that opened every 30 seconds, allowing a gust of January breeze in.

There is also this tiny place right down from Washington Square Park called Snack. They have some soup, I don't know what it is, but I tasted lemon and chicken, and I still dream of it. I also had this carp roe dip called taramosalata, on little toasted crusty bread. Yum...

And don't even get me started on the lobster ceviche at Sushi Samba...

I know that I am a Kansas City girl. I am NOT a fancy NYC diva. I don't wear Cartier jewelry, I don't own anything from Prada. And my theory on handbags? I should not spend more on a purse than I am able to actually put in it at any given time. But I really think when it comes to my palate, I belong in New York. They have all the best restaurants, and you could eat out every night for 3 years and not eat teh same thing twice.

If I win the lottery, I will be the person who blows $20 million on dining out.