A rose by any other name

My name is Jennifer. Not Jen. Definitely not Jenny. Don't even think about calling me Jenny.

As a kid if anyone tryed to call me Jenny I wasn't even the one who corrected them. My parents did.

They would tell them that if they wanted me to be called Jenny that's what they would've named me.

The same goes for my sister. Her name is Nicole. If my parents wanted her to be called Nikki that's what they would've named her.

Jury's still out on why we shorten both of my brother's names. Maybe we all just got lazy.

Never in my life have I allowed anyone to call my anything but my given name. I have been occasionally called my last name, but never a nickname. Never.

That's why its so weird to me that I rarely call either of my ladies by their actual name.

I went through a lot of trouble to pick out those names. Looked through dozens of books and online baby naming sites. Didn't want something too popular, but nothing too crazy and out there either. I'm not about to name my kid Apple. No offense to anyone who does.

But seriously. You did go to public school right? You do know kids are going to make fun of anyone named Apple from kindergarten on?

From birth I have rarely called Alana by her name. Same goes with Ava. Not that I'm particularly attached to any nickname I've given either of them. I call them whatever I feel like at that given moment. I name according to mood.

Sometimes its Paco, sometimes its Ava Jo. Nothing sticks for longer than a couple of weeks.

I manage to re-name both of my children every month, without giving it too much thought. But it took me and David weeks to decide on what we would print on their birth certificates. Lots of thought and planning. And convincing David not to name our daughters after any Dallas Cowboys players.

I wonder if I'll run out of nicknames before they grow up. Probably not. I'm pretty creative like that.