What's In A Name?

Warning: this blog has the potential to offend. I apologize in advance. Please feel free to start your own blog criticizing my child's name.

People, when did we all lose our minds and decide to name our kids bizarro things? My theory is that the Jennifers and Jessicas of the '80s grew up and decided that we wanted our kids not to be known as "The Blonde Jennifer" or "Kristin with an I" like some of us were throughout elementary school, so we thought of totally unusual things to name our kids. Yesterday I was picking up Captain Destructo from the gym and the woman in front of me said "come here, Meadow, it's time to go." Meadow?! Really?! The woman (who's name is the same as my little chicken, an awesome name if I do say so myself) managed to say this without laughing so I had to give her props for that.

Now I understand giving your kids names that are unusual. The name that we have chosen for a boy is unusual (and I won't say it b/c I don't want the criticism...it's the only name we can agree on. And I've tried about a thousand). But at least it's an actual name. Picking a random noun and making your child go by it for the rest of their lives is no fun. And can we also agree to not invent weird spellings to make a name seem more unusual than it actually is? People always ask me how to spell Captain's name, which is very traditional and common. Let's pretend her name is Mary. Is there any other way? Like with a silent Q at the beginning?

I was a teacher in the ghetto before being a mom so I've seen my fair share of weird names. One year I taught Treshawn, Dashawn, Tanisha, and Keneisha in the same class. My favorite weird name story is a student named Nautica (pronounced Nau-tee-kah, you know, like it's spelled) who had a baby brother named Dalast. Because her mother said it was da last baby she would have. True story.

Gotta go. Da first is waking up from her nap.

Mom Style

I, like most people, grew up mortified by my mother's fashion sense (sorry, Mom. I have to add a disclaimer that my mom is gorgeous and a very good dresser now). Between the standard Mom hairdo and the high waisted jeans with tapered legs, she looked pretty much like every other 1980's mom-a hot mess. The other day at the grocery store I looked down and realized that I was wearing Mom jeans and my daughter had pulled my shirt down so that my bra was hanging out. I didn't have time to straighten my hair so it was in a frizzy ponytail. Where did I go wrong?

The style of moms in pop culture over the years has greatly changed. I grew up watching Full House (no Mom....poor kids), Growing Pains and Home Improvement. The moms on the latter two sported short curly 'dos that formed a triangle shape and regularly rocked the mom jeans. The message was that moms had so many other people to care about and so much else to do that personal style was on the bottom on the list. Over time, TV moms have become the Desperate Housewives variety, who are so ridiculously skinny and well-dressed that eating disorders in women later in life are at an all-time high. "Real-life" celebrity moms include people like stupid Heidi Klum, who pops out a kid and then walks down a Victoria's Secret runway two weeks later. Although I suppose if I had a full time nanny, chef, and personal trainer I could be back in shape that fast too (and breast implants and a tummy tuck).

There needs to be a balance in there somewhere. To me, the best mommmy style icons are the women I see out running pushing double strollers who can effortlessly hand out Cheerios while pushing their toddlers and running. I also envy the moms like a friend of mine who has two kids, a deployed hubby, a house on the market, and still not only (a) matches, (b) does her hair and makeup, but (c) looks super cute all the time.

As for me? My kid is 15 months and I still have not found a new pair of jeans that fits right and I can't quite figure out what is appropriate to wear to playgroup and the grocery store to look stylish but not too much so. So look the other way when you see me out. And tell me if my bra is hanging out.

Before and After

It's a muggy Saturday here in San Antonio. I ran 10 miles this morning, took the fam to the Strawberry Festival and am enjoying a quick Facebook perusal while Sesame Street is on. All in all, it's been a perfect day. It's funny to think about how my definition of a perfect day has changed since becoming a mama.

A day in my life circa 2008:

I woke up at exactly 5:47, whereupon I would hit the snooze button, dream for 9 more minutes and stumble to the coffee maker. I drank my cup of coffee while showering, putting on makeup and doing my hair. I drove to work (listening to the radio station of my choosing), where I taught for 6 hours and headed home. After getting home I would hop on the elliptical and work out while watching 30 Minute Meals. My husband and I would enjoy dinner that did not include peanut butter or Cheerios and I would watch a few hours of my favorite reality show programming before hitting the sack.

A day in my life circa 2010:

I wake up to the sounds of Captain Destructo babbling in her crib, at which point I try to put her back to sleep through mental telepathy. When this inevitably fails, I stumble to her room and attempt to change her diaper while she is writhing like an epileptic and signing milk as if she hasn't had anything to drink for weeks. After breakfast, I take a shower while singing "Head Shoulders Knees and Toes" and yelling, "stay out of there! Don't put that in your mouth!"
Around mid-morning I am desperate to see big people so we run errands of some sort. If it is Wednesday, we go to playgroup, where I am so glad to talk to adults I yammer for about about 90 minutes straight. We generally head home and Captain falls asleep in the car. I put her in the crib and inform her that the nap in the car does not count and she should still sleep for her full 2 hours. After she wakes up and has lunch, she plays/destroys things while I follow behind her saying "no" over and over again and keeping her from eating crayons/dirt/dead bugs/Cheerios from breakfast. At 4:00 I let her watch Sesame Street. I have decided that one episode a day is OK (and who am I kidding, she watches The View with me most days) and I have also decided that Sesame Street is hilarious.
After dinner, bath, a warped speed reading of Goodnight Moon, prayers, and bed, I attempt to clean up the wreckage of the day and crash in front of the tube until I fall asleep on the couch and drag myself to bed.


It's truly an awesome life. Have to go, don't want to miss Elmo's World.