This time is a different story. Every time one of us asks, “So…you think of a name yet?” the other waves it off like, “Yeah, lets talk about it later.”
I don’t know why it’s so hard this time around. I guess it’s because there’s so much weight behind it…the dread of picking the “wrong” name, a name that’s pretentious, uber trendy, a mouthful to say or just plain dumb.
Or you’ll pick a name that you think is relatively unique without being pretentious only to find out after the fact that it’s in the top ten on every baby name list out there.
My criteria for name selection has always been fairly straightforward: It should fit both a waitperson or a CEO of a company. And by “company,” I mean a Fortune 500 company, not Chuckles Gag Gift Emporium. I wouldn’t want to pick a name evocative of a particular lifestyle, like “Bubblez” (cut to image of drink wench down at Tropicana Casino). Which is why we liked June — it can go both high and low (though of course her parents would prefer it go as high as possible. You hear that, Junathan? Astrophysicist, all the way, darling).
I give birth in just a shade over two months and I’ve only come up with two plausible contenders so far and Jake only likes one of them. And the name he likes, I don’t particularly care for.
You want to hear them?
Jake likes the name Andy or Andee…I’m not sure how he wants to spell it. I personally think we can do better than that and methinks my husband yearns for a son.
Here are the two names I like:
I like Iris because it’s classic and pretty but not overplayed and it fits my high/low criteria. Jake thinks it’s too flowery (hmm, go figure), especially given that June’s middle name is Rose.
We both like Miles (yes! we agree!) because it’s not too girly (I think it’s actually a boy’s name but we both think it sounds lovely for a girl) and it’s a nod to the town where we met more than 10 years ago: Miles City, Montana.
The main drawback to Miles is that somewhere along the line someone is bound to call her Miley, forcing me to get up in their grill.
“Miley” is just too closely associated with sledge hammer licking, foam fingers and spastic tongue for my taste. (Not that I have anything against sledge hammers. I’m licking one myself right now. Mmm, salty.)
So that’s where we’re at. What do you think? (About baby names, not sledge hammers.)