Meandering anecdotes and an occasional incisive comment, courtesy of an overeducated, feminist former-professional, who is continually outsmarted by her overly-gifted children and genius spouse and who seeks refuge in books, cocktails, and the occasional Xanax.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Seven year-old Lola asked me seriously yesterday, "When you were thinking of names for me, how come 'Islecat' wasn't on the list?"
Didn't she name herself? If so, shouldn't she be asking herself this question?
(My Word Verification is spite. It's green. My first thought was Sprite. And then, "Green with envy.")
When she was about five, my sister, Molly, said the same thing to my parents. Except, not so exotic. She wanted to know why she wasn't named Amy. And she spent several weeks, actively angry at them for not naming her Amy. Once the anger phase passed, she started silently training us... And, for the next year and a half, we called my sister Amy. She never corrected anyone, she simply wouldn't acknowledge her "wrong" name.
Then one day, someone addressed her as had become usual, and she looked confused, and said, "My name is Molly," as though it had never happened.
did you actually show her a list before she questioned it??
That's so funny, Julep, because I went through a phase of rage at not being named Molly. Seriously. I just felt like a Molly.
I have named myself and had people address me as Molly, Emily, Louise, Eden, Stevie, Stephanie, and more recently, my partner has taken to exclusively calling me Mittens, which I have on several personalised items, including a framed and autographed portrait of Charles Shaughnessy (Maxwell Sheffield!) and an autographed cook book by Ainsley Harriott, who said it was a dear sweet little name and kissed me on the cheek - this interaction happened while I was sitting on his lap having a cuddle in a bookstore in Sydney, and as I was a 5'11" 20 year old at the time, not a petite little lady, the story has been retold many times to utter and blatant disbelief until people see the photographs.
But to return to my original point, with the exception of Eden, which has been my go-to name for pseudonyms and my creative persona for a few years now (Eden Von Tippet, actually) Molly lasted the longest and was the source of the most frustration.
I deleted my original post so I could remove a typo, I didnt realise it would leave a whole 'comment was deleted' or anything like that, nor that it would take me through hoops and over barrels to delete it in the first place. I shouldn't have bothered.
I've always hated my own first name & should have changed it. I tried changing it as a very small child, but my parents promptly squashed it by saying I wouldn't get any Christmas presents if I didn't answer to the name they gave me.
Goatse, that is a good point, one which I raised myself with the young person, but she feels, as any child would, that It's All Mommy's Fault. She wants to change her name from "Lola" to either "Islecat" or "Katrina," using the nickname "Cat" in either case.
Emma-Louise, we here at the Drunken Housewife appreciate your eye for detail and thoroughness.
my new name is Kitty.
Are we going to have tea?
Do you have kittens?
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