When I was a teenaged girl I did not have a driver's license or a car and I certainly knew better than to consider asking for rides places. I think I still had my bike, which I LOVED, but biking when you're in high school says "loserville" and I had enough to deal with already. I baby sat for money and I made plenty. For that time, of course fifty cents an hour was major coin. I had a lock on most of the teachers' kids. Them that had 'em; most of the teachers I realize now were just a few years older than me.
Babysitting meant I was trusted and responsible. Check. It meant I was out of the house. Double check. It meant I got to see how other folk lived. Hoo Baby Triple check! Wow! Houses with more than one bathroom! Carpet in a kitchen! (OK, that was a little weird.) Kids with their own bedrooms. Basements tricked out with TV's, sewing machines, and ping pong tables! Attached garages! It really was a different world.
But, today I'm thinking about the kid names I remember. When I had my own daughters I spent many, many hours considering what their names should be. I stand by those choices. My kids ARE their names.
But some of those names from long ago. Bambi: not good, never will be President. This child was gorgeous and, I think grew up to be a Playboy bunny AND a police officer. So I make no claim to total "name" power. But her parents didn't realize the Disney Bambi was a boy.
Last night I watched some old 60 Minutes clips. Angelina Jolie as a responsible grown up. Good for her. Her kids have unusual names. They are acceptable on my unofficial, very personal list. I'll bet those kids will get teased, but not very much. The boys' names all have "x" in them. I wonder if that was intentional.
And then there's Jay Z and Beyonce. Blue Ivy is not SO out there. (I confess I listened to the song as soon as I heard about it. I don't understand rap music as a whole. I recognise the passion and I'm glad it's out there as a genre'. I'm just not sure it's music. To me it's more of a poetry slam with a bit of backup. The poetry is not always good and I do not appreciate all the misspelled words. Sorry, that's an old white curmudgeon talking.) It was nice to hear a dad in love with his child. But is that the baby's mother in labor in the background? I hear the baby crying a bit toward the end of the song. I think I read that there's a sample of Mrs. Carter moaning as she was giving birth.
Babysitting meant I was trusted and responsible. Check. It meant I was out of the house. Double check. It meant I got to see how other folk lived. Hoo Baby Triple check! Wow! Houses with more than one bathroom! Carpet in a kitchen! (OK, that was a little weird.) Kids with their own bedrooms. Basements tricked out with TV's, sewing machines, and ping pong tables! Attached garages! It really was a different world.
But, today I'm thinking about the kid names I remember. When I had my own daughters I spent many, many hours considering what their names should be. I stand by those choices. My kids ARE their names.
But some of those names from long ago. Bambi: not good, never will be President. This child was gorgeous and, I think grew up to be a Playboy bunny AND a police officer. So I make no claim to total "name" power. But her parents didn't realize the Disney Bambi was a boy. Pippa: excellent, exotic without being weird, yeah, there's Pippi Longstocking but that was different just enough not to count. She also had great freckles and her dad was one of the smartest men I had met by then.
Last night I watched some old 60 Minutes clips. Angelina Jolie as a responsible grown up. Good for her. Her kids have unusual names. They are acceptable on my unofficial, very personal list. I'll bet those kids will get teased, but not very much. The boys' names all have "x" in them. I wonder if that was intentional.
And then there's Jay Z and Beyonce. Blue Ivy is not SO out there. (I confess I listened to the song as soon as I heard about it. I don't understand rap music as a whole. I recognise the passion and I'm glad it's out there as a genre'. I'm just not sure it's music. To me it's more of a poetry slam with a bit of backup. The poetry is not always good and I do not appreciate all the misspelled words. Sorry, that's an old white curmudgeon talking.) It was nice to hear a dad in love with his child. But is that the baby's mother in labor in the background? I hear the baby crying a bit toward the end of the song. I think I read that there's a sample of Mrs. Carter moaning as she was giving birth.
Oh! NONONONONONo! I wish that (if that's what it is) would have been kept private. That baby is going to be in the world like celebrity babies and I feel bad for her already. Maybe she will appreciate her name. I hope it was chosen with love and caring for her by her parents. But the music of her actual birth; that should be hers alone.
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