Names are really hard. The good news is that once the kid is born, you'll wonder how you could ever have considered naming him/her anything else.

This. Although I will say, try to make what you're going to call the kid what his/her name is, unless there are obvious nicknames. Jake is actually John on his birth certificate, after a long, tedious argument with S., and it's a pain in the ass to explain that his name isn't Jacob.

How does he feel about Paypal, Erin?

It's been around long enough that he's okay with it. And I'm fine with him being conservative with on-line financials -- he's cautious, not a Luddite.

I'm kind of the same way about DV control issues in relationships -- you work with something long enough, you tend to apply that lens to stuff a bit more stringently. Sometimes you have to rein yourself in a bit, or ease into the waters.

ION, if I had been a boy, I would have been Clark.

Names are really hard. The good news is that once the kid is born, you'll wonder how you could ever have considered naming him/her anything else.

That's certainly what I'm counting on!

Although I will say, try to make what you're going to call the kid what his/her name is, unless there are obvious nicknames. Jake is actually John on his birth certificate, after a long, tedious argument with S., and it's a pain in the ass to explain that his name isn't Jacob.

I had a roommate once, whose father insisted (when she was just an embryo) that if she were a girl, she'd be named Mary but they would *call* her Molly. (I have no idea why they couldn't just name her Molly if that's what they were going to call her.)

So she was, and they did -- except ONLY her father (who came up with the Name Plan in the first place) is the only person alive who calls her Mary, contrary to his own plan.

Oooookay.

And then there's Tim's uncle Jerome, who is 70-something and has been called Pete for about 65 years. And his middle name isn't Peter, either. It was just one of those things. One of those *inexplicable* things, since Pete is not really an obvious nickname for Jerome.

My grandfather (named Howard) was a Pete! A nurse was calling him Repeat in the hospital when he was a kid, and Pete stuck. I was in high school before I realized his name was not, in fact, Peter.

Molly (and Polly) are 19th century nicknames for Mary. Like Daisy being a nickname for Margaret. But I don't think many people know that now a days.

Of one of us had been a boy, the name would have been Michael David (or David Michael; I can never remember). Never happened, though.

Interview was OK -- I think my voice sounded shaky for some of it, and I was a little rambley. Seemed OK more or less. I think I probably did medium. We'll see. Call-backs are next week; fingers crossed. I guess it just depends what characteristics they were sorting for. Thanks for all the good wishes. Time to do a ty note.

In my brother's cohort, there was a glut of girls he knew (or who married someone he knew) who were named "Mary Something." There was a few Mary Janes, a couple of Mary Pats, a Mary Fran, and a few other variations. There was a Mary Pat in my class as well, but I can't think of any more my age.

On Saturday, Mom and I were driving around the old neighborhood (my street is the same, except the trees are huge!), and she decided to visit my brother's best friend from high school. I hadn't seen Pat and his wife Mary Fran since my brother got married the first time back in 1988, so that was really fun to see them again! They were both so sweet--when we pulled up, Pat came out, was confused when he saw Mom's car before seeing who was driving it, and then came over and gave Mom a huge hug through the window before she could even get out of the car. I think she last saw him about 10 years ago.

I've been married for 115.88 Kardashians. Impressive.

Molly (and Polly) are 19th century nicknames for Mary.

I know I've told it before, but I don't care! When I was about five, one of my parent's couple friends were Polly and John. I loved her name so much. Once I asked her whether I could call her Polly. Before her answer was out, both of my parents chimed in unison, "No, you may not ['The horror, the horror!" implied.]" Pouty-pout-pout-pout. Mrs. B would have said, "No," too, but. Wow. I still remember that so vividly. Why so such an impact, little Jen?

My car is now named Polly, though. My niece remembered me telling her that story, and she suggested it when I was mentioning that I still hadn't named my car. Funny.