Name my kid. Please.

This baby still does not have a name.

Mr. C and I can not agree on a first name for this poor little baby. And never mind coming up with a middle name, that might drive us to divorce court. Or at the very least drive me to the funny farm. Mmm, padded walls sound pretty good right about now.

We've had 9 months to come to a decision on a name for this child, 9 fecking MONTHS, and we had, for awhile, come up with a name that we could live with. Truthfully, Mr. C had come up with a name and since I couldn't come up with anything better, I caved. I threw up my hands and said, Fine, you name her. And he did. Just like that he had at least a first name and was beginning to throw around middle names.

Show off.

But I never fell in love with the name. It was nice enough, we even passed it by family and friends and all seemed to like it. Not a sideways glance, a down turned gaze or an uncomfortable pause. No throat clearing. Not one, Really? You're going to name her that? It was a moniker everyone could live with. Except me.

Something was just not right.

It didn't sit with me as nicely as Chicky's name did. So I changed it this past weekend.

Well, not really. I didn't come up with a definitive name. I just came up with two or three other options that we are now considering. You know, just to make things interesting why not go from deciding on one name to choosing between four?

This sucks donkey balls. Seriously.

It shouldn't be this hard but it is. If left up to my husband the child would be named something very conservative, probably something biblical, and she'll be one of three or four little girls with the same name. She'll have to use her last initial for the rest of her life to set her apart from the other girls.

Not that there's anything wrong with that. Ahem.

I want my kid to have a name that will set her slightly apart from other kids. Something strong that will grow with her. Something beautiful and poetic. Something that people will be able to spell without needing to ask, unlike mine.

(Not that I'm bitter, Mom. No, not me. Not bitter at all about being referred to by at least three other names all my life, none of which are right. Nope. Not bitter.)

There is one name we like but the pronunciation is something we're struggling with. And if you're wondering what it is, watch a recap of tonight's American Idol.

Although, after hearing that boy butcher the song I'm reconsidering. Oy.

I'm tempted to let my readers name my kid. Someone has got to intervene. Someone not hopped up on hormones and carrying extra water weight and totally irrational because they can't get their hands ON SOME TWINKIES NOW. And you can't do any worse than me right about now.

How's that for a vote of confidence?

So go ahead, name my kid. If you come up with something we love you win absolutely nothing except my undying love and devotion. Maybe a link every week from my blog. Possibly the role of God Mother. Hell, we could name you in our will.

Or maybe I'm just getting carried away.

Someone please save me from myself. And while you're at it, get me a Twinkie okay?

(And wasn't I right way back when, when I said this baby was a girl. Uh huh. I'm psychic.)

(Or psycho. I'm still working out which one is closer to the truth.)