Making A List ~ Post One

"List all the names you've been called, endearing and not so."

Princess
Crissy
Chrissy
Cricket
Crick
Friff
Steener
Pissy
Prissy
Honey
Mom
Mommy
Mumma
Sweetheart
B*tch
C*nt
Bestie
CW
CDubs
Idiot
Chris


*I'm open to answering questions about any of the names on this list...although, I'm sure some of them speak for themselves.*

Stings Like A Bee

I am in a book club.  My friend L, the sister of my high school chum that died in a car accident a year ago, enticed me to join this past winter.  I adore reading and while I was a bit hesitant at first...cue the stupid adoption-brain (will they like me or will I be an outsider?)...I actually am forming bonds with these women. 

On a side note, it might just be me but I'm always surprised when people remember my name when I've only seen them a few times.  I pride myself on remembering names very easily but again, it makes me happy when others do the same with me.  And the women in the book club know my name.

So, back to book club.  L knows most of my history now.  We've had long, indepth conversations about my life and hers.  I've made my opinions pretty clear on where I stand on the adoption issue. 

During our "meeting"  (really, we talk about the book for about fifteen minutes and then drink wine and eat the rest of the time..lol), L was talking about her friend's son.  He's apparently a terror...and L doesn't like to have him play with her daughter because he's so rough.  He slammed Em's hand in a door on their last playdate, on purpose, and L said "If that was my kid, I'd give him up for adoption!"

I couldn't help myself...

"That's not funny L", I blurted out angrily.

**crickets**

Then she said, "I'm sorry Christina...I really didn't mean it the way that sounded."

The rest of the women stared at me until I explained, "I'm adopted". 

I know for a fact that L didn't mean it to come out the way she said it...she's the kindest person I know and is now one of my closest friends.  But it still stings. 

Five: Holy Crap, Really? *Updated*

The blog that I'm highlighting tonight was shared with me via email and I have to tell you, I've been thinking about what I wanted to write all day.  I'll probably keep it short and sweet since I'm trying to ease myself back into the blogging swing of things but jeebus, I'm flabbergasted by this woman's reasoning.

The blogger apparently got a couple questions passed on to her by one of her online friends...so far so good.right?  The first question was innocuous enough...what has she been up to?  Nothing miraculously interesting so let's move on to the next question. 

"A new blog friend (Hi, Ruth!) read about our youngest girls' names & wondered about K'Tyo's name...where it comes from, how you say it, & what it means. I couldn't believe I had never blogged about it, but looking back, I can't find a post about it anywhere! I am blaming jet lag after we came home with him for my oversight. :o)"

Here's her response and where I realized things were seriously messed up:

"K'Tyo's name is pronounced /k/ tie-yo. Honestly, we weren't sure what we were doing about his name before leaving for Ethiopia. For us, it was hard because he was 4 years old at the time, & obviously had quite the personality."

Holy crap, really?  Ummm, not only did he have a personality, HE HAD A NAME. 

"All of our children's names begin with a "K", so we wanted to incorporate that somehow (how we got going on K's is still a mystery). His Ethiopian name is Sintayehu, which means "much I have seen" (pretty intense, huh?). We love it's significant meaning, but knew in America it would be butchered."

Holy crap, really?  So, even though the name he had since birth had significant meaning,  you figured, we'll completely change it and stick a "K" in front so he matches the rest of our brood?

Ugh.  Just...yuck.

UPDATE:

The blog author has written another post, "Why Do I Blog?" in response to my comment on her blog, expressing my disgust at another comment someone had posted and at her post in general.

I'm saving my opinions to myself because I'm in an odd place tonight and my thoughts are a bit scattered.  Read her post for yourself and tell me what you think.

The Princess Has Arrived

The call came in the morning.  My adoptive mother answered the phone...hearing their case worker telling her that they had a baby girl, just six days old, arriving at the agency that afternoon.

She immediately called my afather at work and told him to come home.  Many more calls were made to family, friends and neighbors...telling them of the blessed event.  But, horrors!, they weren't ready!  The crib wasn't put together...having been taken apart once my asister grew out of it...no clothes, no diapers..no bottles..nothing..not even a name.

Once my father arrived home, the neighbors took off and started shopping...for the clothes, the diapers, the bottles..the name would have to come later. 

The trio, mother..father..and four year old sister, set off for the agency...only to find out that the wee one wouldn't make her appearance for another hour or so.  They had lunch..and went back to sit in the waiting room.  Minutes dragged by until finally, the baby was brought in and taken away.

Arriving at the family's home, it was clear that a crowd had gathered to gawk at the newest resident on the street.  A sign was posted outside the house..only making it that much more evident that the child didn't have a name.  It was, in fact, the same sign that had greeted the first child to the house four years earlier...but now, instead of it saying, "Welcome Home Baby W #1"..it said, "Welcome Home Baby W #2".

An impromptu baby shower was then thrown in the living room.  The shopping trip that the neighbors had embarked on hours earlier was now coming to fruition.  The men folk began putting the crib together while the women oohed and ahhed over the child. 

The child that for the first two weeks of her life was known as Princess....because she still didn't have a name.

Dear Sixth Blog of Shame Award Winner **Updated!**

Clearly I can't follow directions because I left you a comment after you specifically told me to not visit your blog again..wow, I really suck..lol.

Just to make sure you know though, I didn't leave an anonymous comment on your blog.  I left one that told you about your blog award..and then another to tell you that you must have offended someone else. 

Hope that helps!
Christina

**Update** As a postscript to the ongoing saga...the PAP's in the story have decided NOT to name their not-yet-theirs child Ireland...they've settled on Emersyn.  ::snicker::  Was it something we said?

Adoption Carnival Two

I'm again participating in the second Adoption Carnival, over at Grown In My Heart.

Join in, but make sure you leave your link here to the rest of the carnival-ers.

Tell us about names this month…How did you name your children? Did they come to you with names? Did you change them? Did your parents change your name? Do you not feel connected to your name?

Basically, what is in a name?


"We called you Princess…"

For two whole weeks after I was adopted, I didn't have a name. I was just called Princess. If you've read any of the rest of this blog, you'll realize how ironic that name really is. I was most definitely NOT treated like a princess…more like Cinderella.

My aparents didn't even know how close they were on the waiting list to obtaining a child until they got the call that they needed to come to the agency that afternoon. There was no crib set up, no clothes hanging in the closet, no stuffed animals waiting to be hugged, no diapers…nothing. They called neighbors to help get things organized and bought while they were out picking me up…but did wait long enough to be given an outfit to bring me home in.

When we got back to the house, the neighbors had painted a sign for the front lawn.

"Welcome Home Baby W…….. # 2"

Even then I was designated as second best…and it was a role that I excelled in. My sister was the smarter one…she rarely got anything less than a "B+" in school, while I struggled to achieve mostly B's and a few A's sprinkled in for good measure. She didn't need to practice the piano and understood theory better than me…probably why I quit when she stopped taking lessons. She was on the Honor Society in high school and I didn't even get one of the alternate spots. Always # 2. Always in the background.

When they did name me, it wasn't because the name "Christina" had any particular meaning attached to it, but because it went well with my sister's name (Cynthia).

I've never felt attached to my name. Never felt like it fit me. When I was younger, I'd often wonder what my "real" name would have been if I hadn't been adopted..especially during my darkest hours. My sister's name, come to find out, would have been Cynthia either way. Her natural mother had chosen the same name that my aparents did. The only difference was the middle name. Jean was what her nmother picked out, and Louise was what my aparents did. And even then, Louise is my amother's middle name, as well as my agreatgrandmother's middle name. My middle name, Lynn, was pretty much just picked out of a hat.

Now though, I know my "real" name. I know who I would have been had I stayed with my mother. And while my nmother says that she loves my given name, that it suits me better…I secretly wish I could change it…to Elena Katherine.

The only bright spot to this story? My aparents may have picked my name out of the air because it sounded nice…Christina Lynn…what they didn't know…is that my nmother's name is Christine Lee.