I have a strange way of remembering things, which is not caused by locale, age or sex. I’m just weird. 🙂
I remember faces, but names . . . I have some trouble with. Sometimes I don’t remember names, just the first letter. But if I can tell G-Man the forgotten name’s first letter, he can usually remember the rest. It works to be us. (Maybe that’s why God put us together.)
I’ve mentioned the Spess family is growing fast and furious. And since none of the generation being born (at this time, anyway) are mine, once in a while I struggle to keep up.
Sister Debbie has three, all girls. Every one so cute you want to make carbon copies just to look at. Two belong to her daughter, and she started this brain game.
I couldn’t use my first letter trick, since my man isn’t always around when they are. So I had to do something different.
Here’s what I did–since I go to church with Debbie and her daughter’s fam, that’s where I usually see the babies. So I remembered the first one, Canaan, because she’s named after a Bible land. (Not really. She’s named after a really nice friend of the parents, but come on and step in this with me.)
The second I remember because she’s so sweet, you just want to eat her up, and she has the name of a candy bar–Reese.
Now, I’m not in danger of calling Reese another candy bar name, like Hershey, so I’m okay with that baby.
But I have to keep my fingers crossed so I don’t call her sister Beulah.
Next sister–Cindy. She has two grandsons, one lives here, the other lives in OKC. I have no trouble with the one who lives here. He comes to work at the office with his mama, and I get to use his name a lot.
The other one gives me enough trouble all by himself to make up for the first.
The OKC kid’s dad is Andrew, but everyone calls him Drew. The grandson, too, is Andrew, and they call him that. Or AJ–Andrew Junior, I think–at least I think it’s AJ. And he has a few names more his grandmommy and grandpa picked out of a hat for him.
His names are all cute, but even with all his names, I usually hit the wrong one and call him DJ. Or D2. And by the time I get through struggling and tripping over names, I call him something absolutely senseless like R2D2. CP3O?
The name mistake I really hate is what I did to #4’s second grandson, born just a few days ago.
#4 told me some time in the last nine months that his parents were going to name him William, but wanted to call him Liam. We were on cell phones, and I had a little trouble understanding what she said, so she repeated it. “Liam. You know, like the actor, Liam Neeson.”
That made sense, so I plugged that Name Game into my brain.
Several months passed (at least three–that’s several. Right?) and the kiddo made his appearance.
I got a text message that he finally got here, so I told a few people he was born. Of course they asked, “What did they name him?”
I had to think a moment. After all, I have a lot of important things on my mind (rolls eyes) but I’d plugged that name into my game brain (that probably should be lame brain.) I knew his name was there somewhere. Mentally, I started searching.
“I’m not sure.” I like to preface answers like that because of the trouble I have with these kids’ names. “I think they’re naming him Willem.
“Like Willem Dafoe, the actor.”
Wrong. Snort! At least #4 laughed when I told her.
Now the trouble is, I have to remember everyone I told the wrong name so I can correct my mistake. If I don’t, people will be sending presents to Willem instead of Liam and those parents will think Okies are all nuts.
I’m wondering, did I tell Jerusalem’s Mom?