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My advice: don’t take my advice

Several months ago I very publicly advised newly-pregnant (with twins!) family members to refrain from telling people the names they would chose for the babies until after the births. This is what I wrote back on November 29th, 2004:

Do not tell anyone the names you have chosen for the baby (ies), or the names you are contemplating, until after the birth. The chances are very good that someone will not like the names you have chosen and they will tell you why: They once sat next to a kid with that name. He smelled like sausage all the time and he had eleven fingers. Or the name is too old-fashioned, too trendy, too hard to spell, too hard to say. Someone with that name once turned them down for a date, or worse yet, the name is shared by an ex-boyfriend or girlfriend. If you wait to tell the name, The Critic will have a hard time telling you why the name is a tragic choice. They won’t be able to regale you with horror stories while they are holding a cute baby. I wonder if Julia Roberts told anyone she was naming her twins Hazel and Phinnaeus?

After an ultrasound revealed twin boys, everyone began asking about names. But, loyal to my advice, the parents have dug their heels into the ground so deeply their ankles can’t be seen. They will not tell. I have tried to convince them that it is okay to tell me because I gave them the advice in the first place. I have assured them the secret is safe with me. If they are worried I won’t like the names, they have nothing to fear. For their reassurance, I have come up with a scenario of things I will gush if they honor my wishes to know:

“Puckley Chipson and Gubby Borknell? Sounds great! Definately Presidential in a good Abraham Lincoln sort of way. Those are the future names of Nobel Prize winning astronauts who cure cancer (Gubby) and male pattern baldness (Puckley)! You will never see those names pinned on a McDonald’s uniform or topping the FBI’s Most Wanted list. Guys with names like that are always excellent golfers—-maybe even pros. I bet they will grow up to have their own private tropical islands, reachable by either yacht or helicopter, which they are fully capable of piloting themselves. Yes, those names are a true gift from loving, excellent parents.”

They have nothing to fear from me giving an unsolicited opinion. I would never, ever do that. And my name is really Mopsy.

3 comments to My advice: don’t take my advice

  • bro-de-mopsy

    Whoa…okay…who told you the names we came up with? The cat is out of the bag now. I’m very fond of the names Puckey and Gubby. We were thinking “Han” and “Chewie”, but those are so much better.

  • Momofmopsy

    As their “Granny Row Row” I will love them whatever they are named!

  • Marivic

    I didn’t name my twins until they were lifted from my C-sectionious belly, so keeping the names a secret wasn’t the struggle. No, my name really IS Marivic, and what I remember hearing is “Margaret, would you like to meet your daughters?”

    Whose Margaret and I thought I was having BOYS!??

    Good luck to your friends. Twins rock.


    P.S. This was almost 14 years ago, and my older 2, still pretty little at the time, were convinced that I had “one for each of them” and for the longest time thought babies came in twos…

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