Friday, May 3rd, 2013
Don’t tell my husband, but I have a slight case of baby fever. My kiddos are becoming big way too fast. My youngest just lost her first tooth, and my oldest is rolling her eyes and campaigning for a cell phone. Couple that with a teary post I read about how one mom suddenly realized she’d carried her kids for the last time without ever noting that milestone, and a chance to hold my friend’s delicious, chubby baby boy, and I’m thinking it might be nice to have one last baby around the house. I know it’s not going to happen (there’s no such thing as a “surprise adoption”), and I know that realistically, two girls are more than enough for us to manage at this point. And it’s nice to have kids who are old enough to fix themselves breakfast, tie their own shoes and brush their own hair. But babies are just heavenly, aren’t they?
Plus, I have so many baby names I love, that I won’t ever get to use—unless it’s for a future kitten or puppy. If I had another daughter, she’d be Adeline Mary, after two of my great-grandmothers. (After our daughters each got family names, we can’t just go with something we happened to see in a baby naming book, can we?) Boys are a little trickier. We’d probably give a son the middle name Kenneth, after my dad. But I’m not sure about the family name options. I never met my great-grandfathers, so I don’t have much attachment to their names. There’s a Walter, and I think a Louis and a Charles—both names that were given to my grandfathers. I still love Alexander and Nicholas, which were the two names my husband and I were hashing out before we found out our second child was a girl. And of course, now that I’m deeply immersed in baby names on a daily basis, I’ve found new ones to love: names like Dixon, James and Nolan. And I can’t forget Luke.
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