How a seamonkey gets its name...

Wendy's post reminded me of a story. For some reason I haven't wanted to share it before now. And some of you will read it and roll your eyes - and that's fine, roll on and then go clickety clicking on to the next blog on your blogroll...you know me...

When we first got the call for seamonkey we were really thrown by his name. We already had names all picked out and ready to go, but there was something about his name that made us stop in our tracks. We kinda liked it, but it wasn't all that common here. Looking back now, I think that BT and I knew from the start that we really wanted to keep it. Our friends and family tried to appear supportive, but we could tell they thought it was a little too out there (Remember, we're Italian, so all the names in our family are your basic saint names - Anthony, Christopher, Joseph..). But I really felt that somehow I was supposed to keep it, even if we didn't love it all that much. We didn't want to make it his middle name, because we really wanted BT's brother's name in there somewhere, and while I respect the memory of his brother, ain't no way I was calling my new son George (sorry all you Georges out there). The whole dilemma was really upsetting to me. I was stressed out and overwhelmed already, and this was putting me over the edge. I agonized over it for days. I couldn't sleep. I kept trying on the different names, saying them out loud to his picture to see how I felt about it. I was going nuts.

A few days before we were to leave for Colombia, I had to travel to another part of the city to get our visas. I was sitting on the subway, once again thinking about what we should do. Now you know I'm a little touchy about the prayer stuff - but I was really at a loss. "Please God," I thought, "just give me a sign, any little sign to help me decide if we should keep his name". And then I immediately thought how ridiculous I was, but started scanning all the printed material around me anyway to see if somehow his name would appear before me. I didn't see anything.

I went into the consulate, which was ridiculously crowded, and made my way up to the visa floor. There was somone already being helped in the office I needed to go into, so I waited outside. There were lots of people milling around and I was looking at all the children and playing a mental game of "if that kid was my referral would I think they were cute?" (In most cases the answer was yes - hard to find an ugly Colombian kid). Just then this little boy shoots across the floor in a dead run, making a bee line for the office I was waiting to go into. So I jump in front of him to slow him down, and his mom comes running after him screaming (you guessed it) "Seamonkey!"

People, I really and truly lost my shit. I started sobbing right there in the office and everyone was staring at me. Of course right then I get called into see the Visa guy and tried to explain myself but he could care less. I went to see my brother who works right near the consulate. We went to lunch and I cried. He mostly stared back at me wide eyed, because I never cry. I cried the entire way back on the subway and fit in with all the other crazies. I only calmed down when I got back to my office.


So that's how seamonkey got his name for good. We didn't officially stick with it until we actually laid eyes on him, just to be sure. And truthfully for the first few months I never used his name because I felt weird about it (he was mostly "the baby" or "monkey"). I didn't totally love it even though I felt I did the right thing. When asked his name, I would quickly explain that he was adopted and he was born with that name, in case people thought I was crazy.

But I like it now. He is a unique little boy and he has a name to match. We don't have a nickname for him and I prefer that people use his full name. I'm sure his football buddies will come up with something when the time comes.