names, nappies, and nightmares

 

 

 

When one becomes a parent, one's level of sadism multiples exponentially as the minutes pass by.

Take, for example, the wicked joy I experienced a scant three weeks days into my fatherhood when I yelled, "Lij, could you get the baby for me! I'm taking the nachos out of the oven!"

I took my time moving that dish from the oven to the countertop, relishing with every breath the imagined look on my friend's face. His eyes, already bug-like to begin with, widening to saucer-like proportions. His mouth dropping open, perhaps also with a line of drool as his brain attempted to catch up with his train of thought only to realize that it'd been in the wrong station all along. The shaking hands as he approached the crib accompanied with the clench of his bladder. And finally, the piece de resistance of the whole bit, looking into the baby's face and knowing that nothing he will ever do will make her feel better because he's not her Papa.

"She's not stopping, OB!" Lij called back. Yes, the voice was trembling, not too loud for fear of making the child cry more but at the same time, wanting me, the parent, to know how desperate he was for help.

"I'll be right there." And I was. Don't get me wrong, I'm not completely heartless. That's my bloody baby crying in the next room! But I've got to get my fun when I can, yeah?

Fiona was more than correct about the days following the first being horrible. I no longer slept; I catnapped whenever the little elven princess deigned to let me. I wore her food on all my clothing and my housekeeper wanted a substantial raise. Sometimes, I forgot why I wanted to keep her.

Then she'd look at me and I'd remember: she tricked me into doing it with her weird infant hypnosis.

Oh, yeah, and I loved her to bits.

To my surprise, Lij had managed a step further than I thought and was actually carrying the baby, albeit inexpertly. She was obviously uncomfortable at being held so loosely. Feeling like the Manly-Man that I was, I adroitly flipped a towel on my shoulder and lifted her on my shoulder. One or two seconds of back rubbing and she was snuffling and quieting like the angel that she was. Sneaking my eyes sideways, I saw that Lij looked properly impressed with my abilities.

I am SuperDad! Hear me roar!

"You know," said Lij. "We're going to have to name her something. If she goes through life as 'Kid' or 'Baby' she's gonna have a serious mental complex."

I frowned. "I've been trying to come up with names but…" I shrugged. "It's an important factor in her upbringing, you know. I read that it could affect her entire life!"

Elijah rolled his eyes. "You said that about the type of diaper rash cream you made me buy."

"Well, it's true." I jerked my head towards the paper-littered countertop. "I've got a list in there somewhere."

He wandered over, hands in pocket, and peered at the mess. Nabbing the three pages of looseleaf from the top, Elijah perused the contents. "Guinevere?"

I shrugged. "I like the Arthurian legend."

He whistled and kept looking. "Oh, God, you're actually contemplating Jennifer?"

"What's wrong with Jennifer?" I demanded.

Lij ambled towards me, shaking the papers at the baby. "OB, my man, I don't know what it's like in England but in the States, everyone and their pet cockroach is named Jennifer. You've got to have more panache, more… more oomph!"

"Look at page two," I suggested.

He obeyed. "Jamilla's not bad. Wilhemina's pushing it. Fabiola isn't even worth thinking about."

"I had a crush on a girl on my street named Fabiola," I protested.

"Well, here it means 'big, brainless romance cover model,'" said Elijah. "Moving on. Lakia?"

"It means 'found treasure'," I said.

"Hmm… Lakia Bloom." Forehead wrinkling, Lij allowed, "It's okay. You got a pen somewhere--ah, here. I'll star that." He kept reading.

"I call her 'Elf' sometimes," I said just to break the silence.

Lij's eyes went even wider and he shook his hands frantically. "No, no, no, that's no good. How cheesy can you get if your name was Elf and your dad got his big break playing an elf? It's like... like you couldn't make another great film so you decided to immortalise that one hit wonder."

Good point. "Well, we'll have to narrow it down soon," I admitted. "What, with the adoption and rescheduling 'Ned Kelly' and all."

Lij nodded. "How's that going to work, anyway?"

"They're going to film all the secondary sets first," I said. "And I'll come in when needed. I want the Elf with me, though--"

"And that's where the palm-greasing will come in handy," Lij ended for me.

All right, I wouldn't be human if I didn't use my fame for my own advantage. It's not like I was pushing drugs or tearing down a homeless shelter for my swimming pool, for God's sake. I wanted to adopt an abandoned infant! That should balance out the karma a bit.

"It'll help some," I agreed. "But the State of California wants to maintain enough of a reputation to send over an inspector on Friday."

"At least they warned you. I've heard that sometimes, they give out surprise visits just to make sure you're not, y'know, some sort of fraud." Elijah faked a shudder.

I had a sudden vision of tonight's bash: three men watching porn films with beer bottles spread wil-you-nil-you in the house. The baby is screaming in the background but is ignored in favour of Miss July with the five-pound breasts. The inspector barges in, looking like Frida Kahlo's butch older sister who had a nasty Nazi kick. She takes one look at the scene, grabs the baby and throws me into everlasting damnation as I rightfully should be. My life plummets into oblivion as the news gets out that I was an unfit father and--

"Yo! OB!" Lij snapped his fingers in front of my eyes. I jerked back into the present with him giving me a knowing stare. "What disaster is going through your head now?"

"Er…" I tucked back the fingernail I'd been chewing. "Maybe we should postpone any parties until after we're certain the adoption will come through," I said.

Elijah rolled his eyes. "No way, man. You are not shutting the Fellowship out."

"Who's shutting the Fellowship out?" asked Sean from the door. He had a few six-packs and a backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Sean!" Elijah rose from his chair and the two exchanged enthusiastic hugs after Sean put down his gifts. "Sean, my friend, convince the new dad over here that's it's perfectly all right to have a few friends over for dinner and a movie."

Grinning, Sean said, "I thought we were celebrating the fact that you decided to adopt Baby-What's-Her-Face."

"We've really got to name her," Lij repeated. "How about Jordan for her cutest uncle?" He stuck a finger in her hand. To my everlasting disgust, she grabbed and started suckling. The little tart!

I had another flash forward of my precious little baby now a gorgeous fifteen-year-old innocent being coerced into the back of a van by a wanker just in uni who had an uncanny resemblance to Lij only with a Fu Manchu mustache. He leered and rubbed his hands as he lasciviously watched my beautiful, virginal daughter's bum wriggle into her seat. I shuddered and mentally changed her dating age from forty to sixty-five. Actually, to hell with that-- she was going to be a nun.

"So?"

"Not Jordan." I hoped I'd said that firmly enough.

"How about Rosalind?" Sean suggested.

I waved my hand. "Too cutesy. From Shakespeare right?" He nodded. "Yeah, right up there with Elf."

"You were going to name her Elf?" Aghast, Sean put one hand over his heart. "And here I thought you liked her!"

I sent a pillow smashing into his face. "Sod off."

"No, that'd suck too."

"That's Baldrick's first name, right?" Lij snicker. "Sod-Off Baldrick."

The two blighters went and laughed it up. There were down sides to introducing Americans to proper British comedy.

After nicking the half-dozen naming books I'd borrowed from the library, Sean took a seat with Lij in front of the TV. He flipped through the pages.

"I didn't know there were this many names," he said. "Christine and I just both liked Alexandra and Joshua. What about Jennifer?"

Elijah groaned. "Not you, too!"

"What's wrong with Jennifer?"

"I'm not going to explain it again." He jerked his thumb at me. "Ask him."

"Too common apparently," I said when Sean looked my way.

"He's got a point." Sean went back to the book and flipped the page. "Well, do you have any particular likes? Traditional or exotic? Girly names or unisex?"

I shrugged. "I want something that doesn't sound too stupid with my last name and won't be too difficult to spell when she starts school. And…" I just stopped myself from squirming. "I want it to have something to do with her being found or adopted or chosen or something. I don't want her to be ashamed that she's adopted, yeah?"

Sean was nodding approvingly. Elijah didn't look up and I didn't blame him; I was a bit uncomfortable with how important this was becoming to me.

"Okay then, first order of business is to find the munchkin a name," said Sean. "Then we can all start some serious mocking of last year's Oscar winners, other than FOTR of course. What do you think of Shay? It means gift."

"Shay Bloom." I tested it on my tongue. "I'm not sure it sounds right."

"It sounds like a shampoo," Lij said bluntly. "What about Leandra? Leandra Bloom. That's a pretty cool; I haven't heard it anywhere."

"What's it mean?" I asked.

"Lionness." He grinned. "I thought… you know, with her being blonde and having a great set of lungs that it kinda fit."

Another flashforward, this time of a toddler who could only speak in screams. The rest of my life loomed before me: my daughter yelling for her favourite nutrition-lacking sugary cereal, then for a brand new bicycle, then for the keys to the car.

"Er… maybe that's not the best portent to have," I said.

"Theadora," said Sean, "Gift from God."

I shook my head. "Knew a girl in grammar school named Theadora. Hated her guts."

"Why?"

"Her favourite past time was either trying to push me off the slide or locking me in the play oven."

"Maybe she liked you," said Lij with a sly smile. "Like that school bus full of fifteen-year-olds who tried to grind your face into the concrete and rip your clothes to shreds."

I shuddered. "Really, I could have done well without in either case. Can we move on?" Not only was I starting to get the willies from remembering the rabid fangirls but the Elf's nappy was emitting a distinct odour not uncommon in most toxic waste dumps.

"What we need," I heard Lij say as I entered my bedroom, "is something that rolls off your tongue. OB's got such a pansy-ass last name--"

"Hey!" I protested but was ignored by everyone save the Elf. She gazed at me crossed-eyed and stuck her tongue out. Obviously, she agreed with them. That made me feel loads better. I wiped the disgusting filth off of her bottom with a sigh.

"--that hardly anything fits with it that doesn't sound too fake." He began to read off names. "Karenina Bloom. Katalina Bloom-- hmm, sounds like a salad dressing. Katherina Bloom. Keridwyn Bloom. Khalila Bloom-- I think I like that one. Konstanza Bloom."

"We'll be at this for hours!" protested Sean. "Why don't we just cut the names up, put it in a box, and do a-- Holy everlovin' cunt, OB, I can smell that from here!"

"It smells slightly better than when he goes to take a dump," said Lij. His voice sounded nasal; he was probably holding his nose. "What're you feeding her? Rotten eggs?"

"Smeg off!" I yelled at them. Turning to the Elf, I said, "Pay no attention, love. You haven't gone to hell until you smell what Lij leaves behind after a night at the bar. Sean on Mexican food isn't even worth thinking about."

She opened her mouth in a way that I translated as amusement.

"I tell you, Elf, I'm not sure how his mother managed living for three years with him until he got potty trained." Then, in a louder voice, I added, "Come to think of it, I don't think Sean's potty-trained to this day."

"Keep on talking, Elf-Boy, and someone's never going to get expert baby-raising advice again."

"Oh, you know someone who has expert baby-raising advice, Sean?"

The Elfling and I returned to the living room, triumphantly clean and smelling of baby powder. The boys applauded, as they should.

"That took you six minutes," said Lij. "Not your personal best."

I threw him a sour glance. "Look, you want to give it a try?" I rotated my left arm over my head. Eleven pounds may not seem like a lot but when you're carrying it for twenty days straight, it starts feeling like bloody Big Ben.

Smirking, Lij pointed to the various baby accoutrements strewn around the living area. "You've got a rocking carrier thingy, a two couches, and a blanket sling thingy. Why don't you use them?"

"Because," I said, wincing at the ache of much abused muscles, "she only stops crying if I carry her and then only if I carry her like this." With a sigh, I tucked her back into my arm, her head at the crook of my elbow and her diaper-clad bum in my hand.

Elijah shook his head as he nibbled on a fingernail. "You really shouldn't let her take advantage of you like that," Lij said, puffed up with imagined expertise. The wanker. "You'll spoil her."

Sean and I shared a look of full understanding. Sean sighed. "One day when you have a kid, I'm going to remind you of what you just said."

"What?" The poor sap looked completely bewildered. "I've heard it on talk shows and those Learning Channel specials. You've got to show your baby who's boss."

"The baby," Sean and I chorused.

Elijah giggled. No joke, he giggled. "You guys are walking, talking advertisements for vasectomies, man."

I paused. He left that one wide open for a retort and I ached to take it. But no; it was too easy. I didn't dare cheapen my witticisms in that way. "How're the names coming?"

"It would a lot easier if you had a computer," said Sean. "We could just type in the meaning and you'll get a hundred different names."

I shuddered. "No computers. Not in my house. Not unless all the appliances in all the world can only be controlled by a computer. And maybe not even then."

The Elf blew a bunch of spit bubbles.

"The baby agrees with me."

"The baby just blew you a raspberry," Lij said, half-snorting. "She is totally my kind of kid. Give it here, cutie!" Lifting one of the Elfling's little hands, he smacked it lightly then attempted a complicated hand shake. "I'll bet she'll be a regular little hacker, huh, sweet-stuff?"

I had another frightening glimpse of the future, and it was completely wrapped in wires. A computer-automated house where even the bloody windows needed some weird gadget to open and close. I'd be trapped in my own home, probably in the garage with my luck, unable to get out to the yard or into the house. I would try to contact my daughter but she'd be too completely hooked up to a gigantic computer; she ate through an IV.

"Hrmph." I snatched my daughter away from Elijah's sphere of evil influence. "You're just stalling; you haven't found good names yet."

"How about Marion?" Sean came forward off his seat, open book in hand. "Marion; from the Hebrew 'Miriam' meaning much-wanted child."

"Marion?" I tasted it on the tip of my tongue.

"Not bad," Lij admitted. "Marion Bloom. Mari Bloom. Mira Bloom. Mar-Mar."

Sean groaned. "Don't ruin it for me, Bug-Eyes."

"No, really, I like it." Lij tickled under the baby's chin. She smacked her lips at him. Really, she was getting to be too much. "She liked it, too. She didn't spit anything."

"She's already spat everything up," I deadpanned. Still, I looked down to consult the princess. "You wouldn't mind going through life as Marion? God help us all if you ever read Robin Hood."

"Hey, Robin Hood kicks butt!" Sean closed the book in his hand with a decisive snap. "It's settled. She's going to be Marion Bloom."

"Don't I get a say in this?" I protested half-heartedly.

"No," the two plonkers said simultaneously. "She's Marion," added Elijah. "We're done. We've decided. Let's watch some movies."

"I'll get the nachos." Sean made his escape into the kitchen.

"I got the beer." Elijah quickly followed.

"I'll get the movies," I told the empty room. Well, empty save for the Elf and myself. I turned my face towards her. "Can you believe those two? Settling a name for you even before I've decided. Papa wants Guinevere. She's a good heroine, too, you know, especially if you forget everything Malory's written. The tenth century Arthurian legends, those're the ones you want to read."

She screwed up her face, her tiny button nose wrinkling and her lips flattening into a half-pout.

"Well, it's true."

The Elfling's chin trembled. It was the I'm-upset-and-I'm-going-to-let-you-figure-out-why chin tremble, the deadliest expression in her repertoire so far.

With the same caution that soldiers used to strip fields of landmines, I tested out a theory. "Guinevere."

The trembling increased tempo. Her body started to stiffen.

Quickly, I tried, "Marion."

Her round little body loosened and the chin-shaking eased.

Now it was my turn to twist my face up into a grimace. "Shay?"

The chin went off again.

"Vanessa?"

Her back arched. She kicked at my arm.

"Marion."

And she eased back down. I sighed.

"Very well, then. You can be Marion."

Bloody little tyke. I had a feeling this wouldn't be the first time our arguments will fall her way.


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