A Classic Debate

It's week 23 now, and we've been told by all the baby expert Web sites that it's time to start considering names for our growing bean.


Since we opted to not find out whether we're having a "Johnny" or a "Jane" (see 3/29 post) we need to prepare two options (or sets of options at this point) for Baby Beck's grand entrance in August.


Chris maintains that if it's a She-Ra, I can pick any name I fancy. But if it's a He-Man, he's got a specific request - he wants the little man to have his initials. I'm not exactly sure why this matters... but hey, that's a reasonable request! It seems a nice and subtle way for daddy and baby to bond through a really simplistic vehicle. Chris's initials are C.A.B. Not only have we explored what we feel is every potential option for names that begin with "C" - we used to have a short list of "C" names that worked for us both. But since then, Chris has entered into the realm of baby name inventing... and feels he's come up with the perfect name. In fact, it's one he's had on his mind for a really long time - way before we were even seriously talking about becoming parents of Baby Beck. He loves the name so much that I am convinced, if we knew it were going to be a boy, he'd already have the rattle engraved and the name on the wall. This has been a discussion in the Beck household for some time. In fact, some of you may have even heard us talk about it...

So, what's the name...? (DRUMROLL PLEASE) "Classic." (GASP!?!)

"Eh?" you ask....

That's not a typo. Not kidding. No need to adjust your screen. He's not saying that the "C" name is a classic... "Classic" is the name. And he's COMPLETELY serious. I would not joke about this.

He thinks my push-back on the name is because I'm too afraid what others think. That I'm buckling under peer pressure. The reality is that I don't think it's a name at all. It's an adjective... and as a stretch, a noun. There's a reason names, even those that qualify as nouns, like "Apple" never become popular. Because they're not names at all. And they're outrageous. It's hard enough to find current names that work at all stages of the baby's life... let alone trying to invent one that fits that bill.

I have to give him credit for wanting to give our first born a meaningful and unique name. I, too, want this. That said, there's a line I'm not comfortable crossing. Specifically, one that:

• Sets our little bean up for potential failure: Classic means "the original." What if BB doesn't become an inventor? In fact... what if he ends up doing something extremely ordinary? No, not likely, but it could happen.
• Positions our BB for a lifetime of "same name" situations: In a grocery store - "Classic Potato Lays" and "Coca-Cola Classic," at community festivals "Classic Car Show," in the realm of the fine arts "Classic music concert"... the list goes on.
• Makes it really difficult to name future babes: Imagine being baby number two... what would we name it? "Runner up," "secondary," "the sequel"... I can't imagine.

Anyway, something pivotal happened. We (Chris) finally agreed that "Classic" isn't going to be the name for this babe, should it be a boy. Phew!! It was really starting to make me nervous (to the point that I'd enlisted some of his co-workers to intercept the birth certificate should it be a little man). He was SO set on the name, and I'm bummed that I can't agree to it. But, I think after getting several reactions that weren't exactly rooting on his choice, it started to weigh on him.

So, while we can't report what the name will be, we are in agreement (for now) about what it won't be. Here's a list of for-sure nots:

• Classic
• Clint
• Chuck
• Curtis
• Clancy
• Conrad
• Carter
• Colby
• Cordell
• Chris
• Chance
• Chase
• Chip
• Casper
• Cabe
• Cade
• Cadence
• Corbin

We have a short-ish list of other "C" names we're still considering. And you'll all know soon enough, where we land on the subject.

Now onto the little lady names...

Baby Beware

So "baby daddy" and I had our first baby preparation class last night (5/26). The class was all about basic baby care. You know - changing loaded diapers, bathing the slippery little bundle, calming the squirmy and distressed babe, etc.

We were one of about 15 couples - and the only one armed with a camera. Hey... it's important we take good "notes." It will enable us to reference them when times are tough, when we're too tired to blink and when we question our ability to really be good parents to the little bean.

The class was three hours - with time in the middle to "get our hands dirty" with the dramas only a plastic doll can offer. One station was to practice diapering. It was here that we both promptly and efficiently took our babies and diapers and assembled them into happy duos. We even took care to not rub the top of the diapers against the babies' healing umbilical cord "stumps." Since we had some extra time at this station, Chris felt it necessary to not waste any time by letting the little plastic bodies just lie there on the table. No, no. This was the perfect opportunity to set up a pseudo-fight scene. Like I said... good thing we had the camera to capture the important parts... :)

This photo came at the end of the fight, where baby A was standing over (and, naturally, rubbing defeat in the face of) baby B, celebrating his victory.

Next up: the five "s" station - that is, the ways to calm baby through the letter "s" (just like Sesame Street, no?) - swaddle, side, ssshhhhh, swing, suck.

At this station, it was our important duty to master the swaddling technique then continue with the rest of the four s's to ensure the plastic babies were as calm as possible before they were stowed away back in their plastic crates for the next class of soon-to-bes.

I felt my swaddling abilities were excellent (or will get there, in time), but I didn't display my pride in wrap-man-ship quite as proudly as Chris. Though, I will say, my technique in cradling the baby in a swinging motion was much better than his...

Certainly we both have much to learn (really, we already thoroughly understand that plastic babies' heads are not nearly as gripable as those of our plastic victims from last night) - and those lessons will come with practice, laughs, hope, luck, probably some frustration - but mostly, with love. And we can't wait!

Old Wives Tales

If you're not familiar with at least one "old wives tale" (OWT) regarding pregnancy, in my experience, you're an anomaly. Nearly everyone who has let their belief about the sex of Baby Beck (BB) be known, references one of these best guess statements as rationale for the predicted outcome of the little bean.

It is with this (what I'll call) "intelligence" from each of the folks who have "called" the sex of the baby (maybe including you...) that I thought I'd do a bit of informing... and at the end of the day, you can still make your guess based on what's physically going on with BB.

OWT: If you prefer sleeping on your left side, it's a boy. Right side? It's a girl.

• I used to LOVE sleeping on my left side, but could sleep in nearly any position comfortably. Now, on my back is most comfortable (but that's not a healthy choice for the baby at this point, because of the pressure it puts on the inferior vena cava - a large vein that transports blood back to the heart from the feet and legs)... and I have been having difficulty with sleeping on my left side.

OWT: If you gain weight in the face, a girl's in your future.

• You be the judge.

OWT: Extreme nausea = girl.

• I was nauseated.... but not extremely.

OWT: Hands dry? Buy blue. Soft? Buy pink.

• No change in softness of hands.

OWT: If skin breaks out, it's a little lady

• I've definitely fallen victim to the zit monster.

OWT: If you feel graceful during pregnancy, it's a Jane. Clumsy, it's a John.

• While I'm not pulling out my 4"+ heels anymore, I'm still in heels nearly every day. (Hey... give me a break... I can't give up everything during pregnancy!)

OWT: Craving salt? He-Man. Want the sweets? She-Ra.

• For me, it has really depended on the day. I haven't had cravings per se. I crave milk, cottage cheese, occasionally a crunchy dill pickle and occasionally sweet red watermelon. Sorry... no real help here.

OWT: Carrying the baby low = macho man. Carrying high = little lady.

• Swing LOW, sweet chariot.

Carrying out front indicates a Mickey; carrying around the middle indicates a Minnie.

• So far, it's mostly in the front, though my waist is completely gone, so it seems to be widening its stance as we enter week 30. In fact, as BB grows, I'm feeling pushes/kicks/flips on opposite sides of the bump at the same time. Seeing and feeling the movement is a really delightful thing. It makes me feel the urge to talk to my stomach in a silly voice at a moment's notice.

OWT: If you dream about having a girl, you'll end up with a boy... and vice versa.

• My only dream about actually giving birth thus far was to a boy (but he was at least the size of a 1-year-old with a full head of hair... and he could talk).

And finally... for those motivated by chance environmental indicators...

OWT: If you dangle a ring on a chain over the bump and it swings back and forth, it's an F; if it moves in a circular motion, it's an M.

• We did this and it started by slightly going back and forth... then, it seemed to swirl with the motion of the earth. So, it's a toss up. I think we need someone else (not the daddy or mommy) to dangle the ring. That way, it's at least partially unbiased.
  

Taking Flight

I had a busy day today... a 7:20 a.m. flight out of Des Moines into St. Louis, a presentation and a training session, then it was back to the airport for a flight back to Des Moines that landed just after 9 p.m. This was the little beaner's first official flight as a mobile little one. Thinking back, the first time I felt Baby Beck move was on March 6 - about a month and a half ago. I did fly during this trip, but I didn't feel any fluttering while in the friendly blue skies. Oh what a difference a month and 12 days makes!!

Either this little bean LOVES or HATES air travel. Both on the way there and on the way back, for nearly the entirety of each flight, the babe was bonkers! Grandma Beck thought this may be the result of the plane's constant vibration. Certainly that is viable. In a plane, you don't have a way to ground yourself. So think of the poor little bean, stuck in a seemingly eternal wave pool - imagine the impact the constant hum of the plane probably has on fluids in the body! It was probably a bit loud as well - or at a minimum, it sounded different than anything baby's used to.

I'm not sure what other environments I'll be in that may cause the bump to keep "bumping" - but when I encounter them, I'll let you know!

Conversations: The Simple Things in Life

A while back, I was sitting at our kitchen table writing a proposal for work. In front of our table is a double window that provides a view of our humble College Avenue. In the middle of a thought, something caught my eye - a little woman strolling along with a walker, moving quite briskly. It made me grin because she was just trucking right along.

Then, focusing back on my computer screen, I was again distracted by something moving on the street. This time, it was a little man... with a matching walker in bright blue... who was doing his best to keep up with the mover and shaker who was apparently his walking partner.

This made me not just grin, but giggle. Out loud. I couldn't miss this Kodak moment! I quickly retreived the camera-only to come back to the window and find that the speedy lady had stopped and was sitting in her walker (apparently they are dual-functional!) looking fondly upon her slower walking partner. By the time I had the right vantage point, this is what I ended up with:

It was this sweet simplicity that reminded me how precious a conversation can be. Each day I feel like I have a new conversation with "Little Beck":

• I can see you're having a bout of the hiccups baby; should I ask daddy to come say "boo!" to the bump that is your home?
• You're not moving nearly as much as normal... is everything ok?
• OOH! I like this fabric design... will you like it as curtains in the nursery?
• That heartburn is really catching up with me... is it because you're growing hair already, little bean? (Wives' tale: babies born with hair caused their "grower" more heartburn than those born bald.)

In addition to these conversations that go mostly un-vocalized, the little bean also already receives plenty of verbal attention from "mom," "dad" and others:

• Chris's ever-available words of recommendation about the activities in which the babe will participate (we will love soccer, right baby?)
• My singing: depending on the day/mood/song I just heard, I may be singing anything from "Baby Mine" (by Bette Midler from Beaches) to "So What" (by rocker Pink), or "Candyman" (by Christina Aguilera as a retro gal) to "Summertime" (the famous Gershwin tune from Porgy and Bess - though my version's more modern)
• If the baby could hear everything I hear (I read that the baby hears most of what I hear... though it's a bit muted), it would hear all sorts of inquiries about itself. Wanting to know if it's a he or a she, when it will officially introduce itself, if it has a name yet, if it's nursery is shaping up, etc.

Of course, these conversations with and about Baby Beck will continue on forever - and nothing makes me happier :)

Happyness

Did you see the Will Smith tear-jerker The Pursuit of Happyness? If you did, you'll no doubt remember wiping tears from your eyes during scenes of struggle and triumph throughout the film. It is movies like this that make me wonder how Chris an I will be as a parents.

It is my hope that even if we do make mistakes along the way, we can recognize them and correct them on the spot, as was done in this scene.



What was one of the important realizations you had as a parent?

Adventures in garage saling

I want to start this post by saying that I understand garage sales aren't for everyone.

I get it. Not everyone has the desire to pillage through complete strangers' expired goods, nor the wilingness to put a little elbow grease into a no-longer-loved piece of furniture, nor the stamina to roam streets, dodge cars and race other avid sale-seekers to the treasures awaiting them.

I, however, enjoy the hunt. This past weekend, I headed north to God's Country (a.k.a. Minnesota) to spend some quality time with the family for Mother's day and for a day of garage saling.

Thinking back to my experiences as a garage-saler-extraordinaire-in-training, under the watchful eye and caring wing of the "best of the best" (mom), I remember WONDERFUL times. Let's put this in perspective. My parents grew up with parents who were recession-era children. Their learnings became mom and dad's (mom literally didn't have indoor plumbing until she was 13), and eventually mine. When you can conserve, reuse or find a bargain, by all means... do it, silly!

Now, just like with everything, there are rules to garage sales. Here are a few:

1. Do not judge a garage's holdings by its appearance from the street. (The book and cover analogy has proven true on several occassions. Some of the most humble looking sales have turned into the biggest "treasure troves.")
2. Do not scoff at something because it's a bit used. If you can clean it up (i.e. no set-in stains), if it is still functional (batteries are meant to be replaced) and if it makes you smile thinking about how you'll use it... it's probably worth the modest fee on the price tag.
3. The best finds are found early - so no sleeping in, slackers. Suck it up, grab some coffee and get ready to rock.
4. Patience is of the utmost importance. Just because you may have a list of "wants" doesn't mean they will be met. This isn't like apple shopping at your favorite orchard. This is all about the hunt. It may take multiple sales - perhaps even a few days to cross everything off your list.

One of the garage sales I remember fondly was when I was about five years old. Mom and I left the house early (we're rule followers, you see) and were on the hunt. I don't recall having a "wish list" - but I remember knowing the minute I laid eyes on it, that I needed to own that musical jewelry box. It was off-white, it had a bear in a tu-tu that spun to the music when I turned the crank on the bottom and three drawers that lined the left side. The best part was what was in those drawers. The epitome of "treasures" - various beautiful buttons, some colorful pencil erasers, a couple Canadian coins, a Barbie hair brush and some other trinkets. I LOVED it. I had the perfect use for each of the baubles. It was an absolute steal at $0.75 of my hard earned cash (er... coins). I kept that musical jewelry box for years and it held a prime piece of real estate on the shelf above my bed where I could proudly display it for all to see.

When it comes to teaching values to Baby Beck, you can bet that the little bean won't scoff at or turn a blind eye to the bevy of wonders that lie in garages across the land.