Archives for posts with tag: baby nicknames

My two babies have nicknames.  Cutesy little monikers that I dreamed up on my own (with the help of my animal friend, Gosling’s Black Seal).  Names that one day may embarrass the tears from their eyes, when shouted in a crowded room of their peers.

First came Worm, the wiggly, shifty one.  From early on, he was a master of escape.  As hard as I tried to swaddle him, it was never enough to keep all of his limbs secure.  15 minutes of sweating, squirming, and shuffling was all it took to thwart my best wrapping effort.  Even with the lights off.  And with a wet diaper, he was doubly fast.  The writhing contortionist was so worm-like, that it didn’t take long for me to think of what to call him.

Then there’s Smush, the cuddler.  She loves to be close to another warm body.  Her spaghetti noodle arms aren’t developed quite yet, so she mainly cuddles using her face.  We have ultrasound pics of Smushie trying to ‘hug’ her mommy’s womb from the inside.  Her cheeks mashed up against her mom’s uterine wall and reminded me of a pug.  (But I drew the line at calling my daughter a pug.  I’ve got standards!  Besides, Steph didn’t approve it.)  I can’t blame the little girl.  She’s got cheeks like pillows and still uses them to shamelessly nestle and snooze anywhere on anyone.  Sometimes, I smush her cheeks together for my own amusement.  (I have a feeling that will come back to bite me in the ass.)  Smush.  Looking at those pudgy cheeks, I can’t think of a more fitting name.

When I was younger, I thought I would get a cool nickname from my friends.  (You can’t give yourself a nickname.  That’s against the rules.  Besides, it’s lame.)  Maybe they would see my mathematical prowess and call me ‘The Human Calculator‘.  But, now I see that most people can do double-digit addition without a pencil and paper.  Or maybe I would be called the ‘Big Injun’.  But, I couldn’t eat enough cheeseburgers to really nail the ‘Big’ part.  Not to say that I waited 36 years for a nickname like this one…but since it was first uttered from the Worm’s mouth in the sweetest sing-song tone ever, it has firmly planted itself into my heart.

I am the ‘Honey Daddy’.  (Take your shots now, you soulless, cold-blooded, insensitive people.)  And it’s not to be confused with the fierce honey badger.  No no no.  Worm likens me more to honey butter than honey badger.  I guess it fits.  Because everytime he says it, I melt.

Gavin – 24; Dad – 12 (Worm, can I get a tougher, more manly nickname later?  Pretty pretty please?)

How Can I Say No To That?!

How Can I Say No To That?!

We just had our 30 week ultrasound and we are excited!  There’s a little girl in mommy’s belly (and coincidentally, Worm tells us he has a baby in his belly, as well) and she’s doing great.  According to the statistics, her head is normal size (50th percentile) and more oval-shaped than round (a good thing for women birthing the boring way), her arms and legs are freakishly long (95th percentile), and she’s rocking a mini-mohawk (8th percentile).  The bubbling cauldron of ultrasound images stirred up by my distorted mind form a baby as tall as Worm with blue-dyed hair and piercings.  So indelible is the vision, that anything other coming down the chute and “Oh, I don’t think that one is ours.” may be my insert-foot-in-mouth response to the doctors holding her up for me to see.

I love her already, curved barbells and all.  For the past 8 months that I’ve been bearing the wife’s empathetic baby weight, the nausea, the tiredness, the dancing on my bladder and ovaries, my baby girl and I have bonded as only an emotionally unstable gifted and caring father and daughter would.  And yesterday after the ultrasound, I had a fatherly revelation of sorts (this time it wasn’t one of the many that come after “Shit, I probably shouldn’t have done that.”).  #2 now has a nickname to one day despise, like when she’s walking across the stage to pick up her college degree and mom and I are in the audience screaming it out at the top of our lungs and the crowd is erupting with laughter and jeers…We will tell her afterwards that she should be grateful that we didn’t nickname her “bubby wubby pants”.

The pet name of the newest member of the family will heretoforth move from “#2” to “Smush”.  As of this day, 2012, Thursday (I think) November 15th, I now pronounce you husb…I now christen thee Smush, mother of none, daughter of dad, sister of Worm, and the female-version of the master of the Universe!

From today until eternity (or until Steph the Supreme Commander says otherwise), you shall be the Smush.

Other nicknames in the running, but ultimately NOT chosen:

  • Wormette
  • Slug
  • the Cuddly Wuddly Wompa Monster
  • Cutiest Patootiest Lovie Bear Sweetsie Muffin Dandy Candy Pansie Rose Petal…I couldn’t even type that without vomiting…twice.
  • Chainsaw Massacre slasher chick

When you look at the ultrasound pics below, think Empire Strikes Back “Han Solo Frozen in Carbonite” scene.  Ah, you can see Smush’s face now, can’t you?

With Nose, Lips, and Chin Pushed Up Against the Womb, What Other Nickname Would She Have?

 

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