The Annals, Entry IV - Conceiving Greatness

In Karl's view, the last month of a woman's pregnancy is torture. Having enlightened and gender-progressive views, he is convinced that most men, aware or not, actually experience early toddler training vicariously through their wives during late pregnancy. In support of this theory, he notes the following similarities:

• Trouble putting them to bed
• Fussy eating
• No attention span
• Excessive neediness and impulsiveness
• Ask all types of why questions (Why do my pants feel wrong; Why does this take so long; and the infamous "Are we there yet?")
• Need regular naps
• Have to be taken for walks not leaving your sight (lest labour begin)

While Andrea may have her own rebuttal to the above, she has to confess that birthing an emperor is no easy business. It all starts the minute you see that second pink line (well, ok, let’s get with the times – the test of today basically yelled at us: “PREGNANT”)… In parallel with life growing in the womb, there is an anxiety that simultaneously starts as a small seed and multiplies to take on a life of its own.

1. The Worry Web - Andrea was part of many on-line chat groups and read numerous blogs in order to “better our situation,” yet for each question answered or worry alleviated, more were raised. For each positive and encouraging story she read, others recounted disaster and devastation. Admittedly, we did have one miscarriage prior to Quintus’ birth, so a certain level of anxiety was legitimate, but Andrea’s insatiable appetite for “knowledge” led to a worry-feeding addiction. At first feeling this was unique to our situation, we later discovered that a close friend was “banned” from the Internet for the duration of her first pregnancy, citing similar reasons. (Pssst, girls - Karl's not looking - check this out!!)
2. Gifts That Keep Giving – what Mennonite of sound mind can turn down an offer for free stuff? We giddily completed the forms inviting us to receive free samples of formula (that often came with handy extras, such as backpacks emblazoned with pink hearts!), diapers, baby wash, starter cereals, etc. Of course, the companies also took the opportunity to provide us with convenient weekly e-mails, continually updating us on what we would “need” and what stage our child was at in the womb (zygote, embryo, foetus) as well as what he would and would not be doing. We were never sure how to verify if he actually had eyelashes and/or hair, nor did we manage to master the fine art of distinguishing a burp from a fart. Nonetheless, every e-mail firmly emphasized just how important this was. Is our child developing correctly? Maybe we should sleep on a few TVs playing B*by E*nstein with a little background classical music, and we should probably talk really loud so the baby can hear our voices while giving him a little intra-uterine baby massage. Surely this will give our child the competitive edge he needs, right? (Well, that or ADD.) Further, even infant toys come with ratings on how this toy will increase your infant’s social development, hand eye coordination, color and shape recognition, and religious persuasion.
3. The Due Date (warning: intellectual interlude) - forget holidays, birthdays, even the day of the week. All that matters is that one glorious day circled on the calendar (or as is most often the case, a circle that is eventually crossed out followed by another circle that is crossed out, and then the next day another circle, more crossing out, circles, crossing…you get the point). When a doctor says “due date”, all Karl can think about is Derrida’s essay on “différance” and all the confusion that comes with language. If you examine the Oxford English Dictionary (hereafter OED) on “due date”, you will find the eleventh definition as “… due date, the date on which a bill falls due and is payable; so due day, the day on which any payment falls due” (connected to Latin). Thus, it is highly related to financial deficit. And, as most parents would agree, there is more connection here than to the supposed correct interpretation, which is listed as definition ten in the OED: “Under engagement or contract to be ready, be present, or arrive (at a defined time); reckoned upon as arriving; as the train is already due = ought, according to the time-tables, to be already here (or at such a place).” Thus, as soon as the doctors confidently proclaim the magical date, the meta-message is: “Are you and your bank account ready for this?” And if you are not and you live in France, you may use a curse pronounced very much like the first word in the etymology: “[ME. a. OF. deü, later dû, orig. pa. pple. of devoir to owe]"
4. Labour Preparation Materials - we chose not to attend any formal classes, and Karl decided (as always) that reading a book or two was quite sufficient. After Andrea devoured both in an evening’s time somewhere during month three, on Karl’s shelf, as most books one doesn’t want to read, they sat for a long while collecting dust. Really, nine months is a pretty long time… However, eventually, the first book’s amazing illustrations depicting nude, seemingly post-reefer hippies just moments before and after giving birth convinced Karl that he had much to learn (nb: this blog in no way promotes reefer smoking at any time before, during, or after pregnancy). But still, nine months is a long time… Karl appeared to approach the required readings much like one might approach a friendly, neighbourhood book club, seeming to generally skim the material and ask Andrea questions to see if he got the gist. Of course, Karl never let on that his bibliophilia doesn’t really permit skimming, but he was having fun, and asking really bad questions was flirtatious and fun loving, wasn’t it? Unfortunately, when nine months suddenly didn’t seem that long anymore, contractions started, and then they didn’t stop. Karl, dismayed, found he was only halfway through the book.

Stay tuned for next time when Andrea says, “Who the h$&# ever heard of a four day labour?” and Karl responds cheerfully, “Don’t worry, honey, I just read right here on pp. 120-25 that it’s perfectly normal!”

(P.S. - the med student alluded to in the previous post is still coming - we just got a bit over-zealous on the prelude...)

The Annals, Entry III - Philosophy of a Name

Preparing yourself for the name game is very important. We have found that the following list contains most of the considerations involved when choosing a name.

1. Familial traditions – following in an ancestor's footsteps
2. Free associations - what ghosts jump out of the closet when you think of the name (class clown, first crush, school bully...)?
3. Popularity – is the name on the US top 10 list (and do you want it to be or not)?
4. Meaning – its etymological core
5. Ethnic heritage – the name's language of derivation
6. Historical significance – is it the name of some meaningful figure?
7. Uniqueness – do you prefer to name your child after the first fruit that comes to mind or find comfort in the familiarity of Bob/Dave (again...we love you guys!!)
8. Eternal destiny – do you believe the child's entire future lies in the balance?
9. Random selection – open the book and point, etc.
10. Rhymeability – Do you want to be able to sing "banana-fana-fo-fana" and can school-age children distort it for mocking purposes without having to actually exert creativity and effort?
11. Pronunciation – when calling attendance, will your child's teacher pause, furrow his/her brow, and then produce some atrocity that even your child does not recognize?
12. Laugh factor – when people hear the name, will they put their hands in front of their faces, recompose themselves, and say, “what a nice name”?

Let's go through it step by step as it worked out for us.

Family tradition was never one of Karl’s strongest points, so this aspect really never gained a foot hold. (You may wonder about Andrea’s discussion and consideration of some of these issues, but history is the story of the winners, so let us continue...).

Free associations - umm, no ghosts (see next point)

Popularity was huge for us, as in we REALLY didn't want our kids' names to show up on any top 10 list. As you can see (if you're interested), Quintus and Lucian met this criteria.

Meaning was significant for us. For a long while before we had children, we really liked the name Logan, but when Andrea got the thrift store name book, it informed us that the meaning is "little hollow", not exactly manly enough for Karl... Aside from this, many names have various meanings, and in some cases, it seems impossible to determine what the actual meaning is. Take Caleb for example: does it mean “dog” or “whole-hearted.” Obviously, there is a big difference between these ideas: one is a canine and the other is an attribute of a canine. After consulting numerous dictionaries, the overall consensus was clearly divided. That said, Quintus literally means "five" (relatively innocuous, though someone did ask us if we intended to have five children and name them all according to reverse birth order...) and Lucian means "light".

Ethnic heritage is difficult at best for us. Karl is a Russian, Prussian, Austrian adopted Scottish, Irish . . . something, and Andrea is a British, Irish, Norwegian, Scottish, and German . . . something. Our heritage covers a large part of numerous continents; where do our allegiances lie?

History proved to trump nearly all for us. It is Karl’s avid passion, and aside from Plutarch, he is convinced there is only one true historian, an individual who happens to specialize in the Roman Empire. Thus, in a quest for names, having been completely caught up, Karl could look no closer to the modern day than 1800 years ago. As for Quintus Maximus, his history is connected to wisdom and cunning; Virgil says of him “one man, by delaying, restored the state to us,” and he was called the shield of Rome. Lucian is from a writer trained as a rhetorician known for wit and sarcasm, though this is not the time to speak of Karl’s interests in rhetoric.

Destiny is a funny one. Karl means "manly" and Andrea means "womanly" and what is more natural than a man and a woman coming together? Further, Karl is a derivative of Andrea’s maiden name; obviously, we were destined for each other. Quintus actually combines two different meanings of an inscription at the Oracle of Delphi. Are you ready for this? The oracle was known for one more inscription than the two mentioned in our previous post. A third simply says “ei”. Now, in the American pronunciation of Greek, this would sound like the Canadian “eh”, rendering it culturally suitable. As well, two of its meanings come together to mean “you are five.” Thus, unknown to us, the oracle may have had something to do with Quinn’s name (we will never know). Even stranger, however, a kindly older Costco patron freely prophesied that Quintus “would be the president of Canada with a name like that.” Aside from what this means for future US-Canadian relations, we felt it was very interesting. Not to mention the slightly disconcerting lady at Wal-Mart who walked up to us when Quinn was about 9 months old and stated that he would rule the world. We are waiting to see what will be said of Lucian.

Random Selection - well, if you read Entry I, you know that the book was tossed out (oops, recycled) before it got much play.

Rhymeability - Quintus definitely gets a pass here, though we have managed to turn Lucian into "Loosh la bouche" in reference to his cacophonous outbursts and overwhelming love of food... While unintended, this may also foreshadow his future rhetorical prowess (you know, in combination with Destiny and everything).

Pronunciation is not impossible.

Laugh factor is a bit tricky. While most people don't laugh, several introductions have led to awkward silences that hint at “you're kidding right?” Of course, after Karl's male scholarly friends and a ton of old men got past the "are you serious" stage, they all unanimously agreed: "Those are the coolest names ever. I wish my wife would let me get away with that!!"

Stay tuned next time when Quintus' birth scene leads a young medical student to inquire: “Aren’t you supposed to be screaming or something?”

The Annals, Entry II - Let the "Names" Begin

Know thyself. Avoid extremes.

The Oracle of Delphi

During our brief engagement, we participated in a premarital counseling course. Before embarking on this activity, we did not really know what it was and were sure it would do us no good, but it was a requirement for the church rental. What harm could it do anyway? In the conflict resolution section (which, of course, we believed we would never need) the good advice given was that, in marriage, there are numerous ways to conclude conflict. In brief:

1. Someone cedes the point (i.e., one party caves)
2. Both parties talk it out and find a sensible solution (insert barfing sounds)
3. Both parties compromise and meet some where in the middle

We are both too stubborn for the first to ever work. We can stare at each other for days looking for signs of weakness (umm, not that we do that or anything…). We are not idealistic enough nor do we have sufficient time for the second, so we usually end up embracing option number three. Our counselors never called it a "solution," but let's talk reality here.

In our house, the arrangement is as follows. Hypothetically, we want to see a movie together (the fact that we only occasionally have time or money to do this is somewhat irrelevant to the case at hand). It is a well-known fact that while we immensely enjoy our time alone together, we do not share similar tastes in Hollywood fare. In an unfortunate case of typical stereotypes, Karl generally avoids pink and fluff romance stories with plots so predictable they shame Harlequin novels while Andrea prefers that explosions and gunshots contribute to a general plotline rather than compose it and appreciates bass that stops short of measuring on the rector scale. At the outset, we know that some agreement will be reached, but giving up too much too soon can be devastating (once, in a moment of weakness, Karl found himself waking up in the middle of a Disney compilation called "Enchanted"…point made).

So, we square off in our corners and the dance begins. Karl starts things off by throwing out the latest testosterone killer so Andrea is forced to counter with some princess epic with unicorns. A little fancy footwork and Karl confidently moves into the genre of thrillers with Andrea strategically shifting to drama. A couple more fine-tuned maneuvers on both sides (in addition to general fatigue) and we settle on a dramatic-action or actiony-drama (to be balanced). This is how the game is played, we honour the rules, and we've honed each other's skills.

Back to names. When contemplating future offspring, Karl suggests highly "unique" names and Andrea counters with very popular and more culturally normative ones. At each step, we continually size each other up, testing the level of exaggeration and seriousness of the other's request to determine how extreme the response needs to be in search of balance. In our case, the outcome of the name duel seems to indicate Karl's slight victory but only after all rounds had been fairly fought and, well, with Andrea in labor, it was difficult for her to keep up the stamina (cheap on Karl's part, but really, she should have seen it coming).

Regardless, perhaps we should all listen to the Oracle. While each of us is extreme in our own way, our "fight" together leads to balance. Thus, we don't have a Bob or Dave (not to offend any of our fantastic Bob & Dave friends…Hi Dad!!) and we don't have Hannibal (not to offend…never mind…) but something in the middle: Quintus, which is nicely shortened to Quinn and Lucian, which can easily become Luc. Admittedly, their middle names are Maximus and Magnus, but this had more to do with birth weights than Rome.

Stay tuned next time to hear the Oracle of Delphi say..."eh".

The Annals, Entry I

Many years ago, Andrea discovered a "great deal" on a baby names book at some random thrift store. Our true Mennonite heritage allowed us to neither pass up the bargain nor to neglect the possibility of being well-prepared, so we bought the volume. As we lightheartedly leafed through the (endless) pages, this seemingly innocuous purchase revealed a fundamental difference in our approach to parenting: Andrea is normal and Karl is weird. Andrea pondered the British and Irish sections, daring even to dabble in the Austrian and German spectrum, but Karl only scoffed derisively, flipping faster and faster in search of the ever-elusive ancient Latin section.
As an academic with a side passion for Classics, Karl's interests are fairly finely tuned, but even after a near decade of marriage, as the hour of reckoning approached, Andrea did not realize the full extent of his commitment. Out came the long-shelved tome again, and Andrea diligently assembled extensive lists of male first name/middle name combinations (we knew we were having a boy). Late one evening, all joking aside, we set out to make some decisions. With list in hand, Andrea enthusiastically proposed Caden Joshua, Declan James, Noah Raphael, etc., etc., etc. With a horrified and revolted look as Karl's only response, Andrea awaited the counter-proposals, and they came swiftly:

• Hamilcar Barka (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hamilcar_Barca)
• Publius Cornelius Scipio (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Publius_Cornelius_Scipio)
• Scipio Africanus (see above)
• Hannibal (you think Silence of the Lambs, but Karl thinks of http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hannibal)
• Hastrubal Barka (Hamilcar's son, apparently: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hasdrubal_Barca)

Silence ensued, and we called it a night.