We decided our second baby’s name this weekend and a choir of angels sprung forth in our house. Well, actually I went, “AHHHHHHHH!” which is as close to cherubic as you’ll get in our hotbed of hedonism and Cinemax favorites. For a few weeks, Mike has been set on the name Chase, which is a fine name in itself. It’s French, it means “hunter.” It also represents the damn bill I get every month. I told Mike no, I would not have Chase as a son. It doesn’t fit our family and it’s not like the company would lower my interest rate if I sent in a birth certificate with my next payment, like hey you guys, can’t we do something? I mean, meet me halfway, I named my son after you! What are you going to do about my reward points?!?
I loved “N” names–Nolan being my favorite. I also loved Simon which is still an awesome name to have. Simon was the smartest of the three chipmunks. Simon liked to take baths and do drawreeeengs, you cheeky monkey!
So there was a war between Chase and Simon. Mike kept saying that our son’s ass would get beaten at the park with a name like that, which makes me wonder what kind of freaking park we would take our kids where names are reason enough for a beatdown. Wouldn’t he be beaten down for something else? Like winning the spelling bee and showing punks how to spell “paternity test”? Still, it was pretty contentious. Mike doesn’t backdown and the more I fought against Chase, the more he was convinced that it was the BEST. NAME. EVER. (Which again, is a great name, but not for me!)
We did the logical thing which was to ask our three-year-old what he thought. I mean, this kid has a lot of opinions. He’ll walk up to me and say, “Mommy! I like your susu (chamorro word for BOOBIES)” Then using his little toddler finger, points to my right boob and adds, “THIS ONE.”
So we said, “Nathan, which do you like more–Chase or Simon?”
His answer made me think of this story of Mike’s mom and dad. For years and years they had tried to have a child and were unsuccessful. Mike wrote a beautiful letter here about how his mother did get pregnant with twins who died shortly after they were born. This was the 50s and there wasn’t the technology available to take care of premature babies. Then they adopted Mike and Mike’s mom fell wholly in love with him.
But those twins? Their names were Timmy and Jimmy which is why we finally decided on Timothy James. It’s fitting, appropriate, and a beautiful homage to a woman I wish I had met.
Now to yell “TJ” throughout the house because that’s what’s going to happen anyway, as the story of parenting goes.