Arbity

Clint, Tiberius, The Man With No Name.

She hates them all.

Flint, Max Power, Studly Mcwhoopass.

She hates them to.

Poncho, Dutch, Hawkins.

She won't even consider those.

Desmond, Jack, Killian.

Those won't fly.

In short, my new child may be born without a name.  It is his mother's fault.  Not good old dad, dad wanted to set him for life with a name like I Drink Your Milkshake Hoss.  Imagine signing that on your IRS forms.  There is no way that guy gets audited.  In fact, I bet he doesn't even have to pay taxes.  All because his Dad stood on that ledge and declared to the world, HERE IS MY SON, HE DRINKS YOUR MILKSHAKE!

And it could be very funny, for only a short period of time.  However, like previous pregnancies, Hossmom has lost some of her sense of humor.  Perhaps it's the constant back pain and getting up 12 times a night to pee, I'm not sure.  But she doesn't laugh at my silly quite as much as she used to.  In fact, I'm beginning to think that she may hate me and blame me for her current condition.  It's too soon to tell, but I believe she may be putting anti-freeze in my morning breakfast that she cooks. 

I'm just kidding.  Hossmom doesn't cook.  That's crazy talk.

Now some of you may be thinking, Hey Hossman is having another boy.  I'm here to tell you, I don't know.  We were supposed to find out but she changed her mind.  When?  When the doctor asked us if we wanted to know.  I said yes, she said no.  I said what?  She said shut up.  I said make me.  She said my sour cream enchiladas suck.  I cried.  Good times.

So I don't know the sex of the baby and it appears that "we" have elected to be surprised and that "we" really don't have a say in the matter.  Instead of coming up with one name now, we have to come up with two.  We have the girls name and I love it.  But for some reason, we are beyond stuck for a boys name.  Mainly because my wife gets all wishy washy on this stuff and I have the inability to consider real names, like John.

For the last three months we have been discussing this and for the last three months she has shot down everything that I have said.  For the first month, I was actually serious about it.  I threw out good names.  Nolan, Ronan, Sawyer, Liam, etc, etc, etc.  They were met with "maybe", "meh", "humphs".  1000 names met with 1000 unenthusiastic responses.  So I've gone to the fringe and now I am considering naming my kid Johnny Biceps.

I think our children know the tension that this has created in our family, they can sense it like they can sense weakness.  If you show up with one ounce of wavering confidence in this house you will soon find yourself playing a "story" with Barbie as she fights off the evil Transformers.  Oddly, Barbie rarely wins and ends up swinging at the end of a rope. 

My son has broken our stalemate and proudly proclaimed that he has a name already picked out so we should just shut our piehole.  He has decided that if he is to have a little brother, he shall be named Arbity, and the world shall rejoice.

I like it.

So that's where we stand, that is the name of my new kid and that is how we refer to him while he is in the womb enjoying my fabulous sour cream enchiladas that Hossmom can't get enough of.  But now there is a new argument between us.

Hossmom says that it should be Arpitty, with a P.  I say that my son clearly said it's Arbity, with a B and only one T.

We asked my son about it.  He said

SQUIRREL! and has refused to discuss the topic any further.

Yup, only 4 more months of this.