Thursday, May 20, 2010

What's in a Name?

Gotta admit it, I "borrowed" this from a fellow blogger's site (Venting Vagina) but it was too good not to share! As a teacher, I have met my fair share of "Brittney, Brittny, Brittneigh" and laughed out loud several times!

Complaint Box Brittney, Brittny, Brittneigh
By
PAUL SCHMIDTBERGER
I saw a birth announcement the other day and groaned. In recent years, I’d learned to accept the flood of trendy tots named Madison, but this was my first Madicyn. If you care about spelling, my advice is to pour yourself a stiff drink before untying that pink or blue ribbon and reading news of the blessed event.
In a similar vein, leafing through the newspaper these days is like crawling through a minefield of makeshift names. An article will catch my eye — say, something about a tornado that just missed ripping through a preschool beauty pageant — and I dread what’s coming next. They’re going to interview the pint-size witnesses, and I’m about to meet little Brittney, Brittny, Brittneigh, Brit’nee, Brittani and Bryttney. If you absolutely have to name your child after a rugged French peninsula, then get out a dictionary and look it up. It’s Brittany.
I have a major gripe with the trend of misspelling baby names. On purpose. The parents’ logic runs something like this: “My child is special and unique. Thus, my child deserves a special, uniquely spelled name.” The upshot is that Chloe becomes Kloey, and Jacqueline metastasizes into something ghastly, like Jaq’leen.
It would be easy to blame this on celebrities, since there appears to be an unspoken contest among them to saddle children with awful names. Gwyneth Paltrow set the bar high when she named her daughter Apple, but not high enough. Reign Beau, daughter of Ving Rhames, and Vanilla Ice’s Dusti Rain and Keelee Breeze are way up there. For boys, could any name be worse than Bronx Mowgli, son of Ashlee Simpson and Pete Wentz? Perhaps Jermajesty Jackson?
Not that this is just a Hollywood problem. All across America, parents are mangling names in a misguided mission to trumpet their kid’s individuality. Take the wildly popular name Chase, which is actually not a name at all, but something a dog does to its tail. It was annoying to begin with, but now it gets worse as it slowly mutates from Chase to Chace, and on to Chayce.
If there were any truth to the idea that a particular name can guarantee a particular character trait for the child — or vice versa — most people would be named Vaguely Dissatisfied. Or Kinda Bitter. In my case, my parents could’ve just named me Unemployed and saved everybody a lot of trouble.
Misspelling a child’s name won’t make Junior special, creative or unique. Y’s and I’s are not interchangeable, and apostrophes are not some sort of newfangled confetti to be sprinkled liberally throughout groups of letters. Parents shouldn’t impose cryptic, incoherent or foolish spellings on their own children, nor on society as a whole. And they shouldn’t condemn their children to a lifetime of bleakly repeating that, no, the name in question is spelled “Shaiyahne,” not “Cheyenne.” (And while I’m at it, don’t name your child Cheyenne, either.)
The liberty to name one’s child is not always absolute, certainly not outside the United States. In France, for example, the district attorney has a short window of time after a child is born to block names contrary to the interest of the child, including those that are pejorative or rude or would cause ridicule. I’m not suggesting we commission a similar corps of name police in the United States. But I am saying that a little humility and some common sense would go a long way.
Paul Schmidtberger, author of the novel “
Design Flaws of the Human Condition” (Doubleday/Broadway, 2007), was born and raised in Schooley’s Mountain, N.J., and now divides his time between Paris and New City, N.Y.

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Texting Wars

So as many of you know, Chris and I do not talk if we can help it. We text on occasion, if there is an urgent message, but for the most part, we leave each other alone. Ironically, I talk to Jenna on the phone more than the father of my children (but the babysitter of my children watches the kids more often, so it kinda makes sense). Anyhoo, Tim and I took the kids to his brother-in-law's house for a birthday party on Sunday and we were running late on the way home. I knew that we would not make the 5:30 PM drop off time. So I texted Chris:

Me: "We're running a little late. Will have the kids to your house about 45 min late"
Chris: "K. Why haven't you changed your last name? You still love me or something?"
Me (gagging): "Uh, no. Payroll purposes. Believe me, I will be changing it ASAP"
Chris: "Sure. payroll. right...."
Me: "Why haven't you made Jenna a "White"? Still love me or something?"
Chris: "If you paid for your half of med. deductible $250 I could afford to get married"
Me: "Wow, when you prove those charges are for kids only I will pay half"
Chris: "No I don't love you anymore. And it isn't a contest"
Me: "Yes it is. I won ;) "

And on what planet does Chris think that $250 will be the difference between a wedding or no wedding??? Has he priced these things lately? Maybe if he and Jenna are hitting the civil ceremony, followed by a romantic dinner at Golden Corral, and a sensous night at the Dahlgren Comfort Inn Express....but then you gotta pay a sitter for the four kids, so that kind of blows the budget!

Thursday, March 11, 2010

My Two little Juga-boos





My kids are so fab! And I know you're thinking.....every mother thinks her kids are awesome. But I really do like my kids--they are so sweet to each other. Garrett just got another round of goats (Tigger & Eyeore) and he "lets" Caroline help him feed and take care of them. She in turn "allows" him to use her Nintendo DS when Garrett has forgotten to put his on the charger. And they just photograph really well, too! :)

Off topic, Garrett got in a little scuffle at school yesterday (actually, before school during Play it Smart) and I gotta pass along the scenario: picture Garrett building a bowling alley out of Jenga blocks and another kid saying to Garrett "no one likes bowling". Garrett slapped the kid across the face and the kid said "Did you just slap me?" (Must in the spec ed program, because yo butt just got schooled!) The teacher was so serious about it--asking me about the incident report, giving me play by play info, etc. I mean, seriously??? We've got the kid gloves on too often. I would say the same thing if Garrett was on the other end of the slap. Let them go out and rough each other up without a referral or counseling or other methods that make these situations such a big freaking deal.
Remember "playing"? Remember riding your bike for hours without your mom being worried that you were kidnapped by a neighborhood molester? Remember being told to be "home when the street lights come on", not "I'll call your cell in 5 minutes and every 5 minutes after that to make sure you got to Becky's house". I remember holding onto a rope....on a yellow skateboard....while my sister dragged me down the street on her bike. It's a wonder I still have my original teeth! But that's the fun of playing....getting hurt, getting up, and getting out!