My kid’s got a ‘weird’ name – How I’ve helped him embrace it (read: how HE’S helped me learn to love it!)


In my culture, kids tend to be named after loved ones who have passed away after living long fulfilled lives. My husband’s tradition is to give the first born grandson the same name as the LIVING paternal grandfather. When hubby first told me this I’m pretty sure my word-for-word response was something along the lines of “Not a f@#%ing chance is that happening.”

Fast forward 6 years and I’m preggo with boy/girl twins. During those 6 years I went though a lot of heart break – I lost my grandmother, grandfather and uncle, all of whom basically helped raise me. So when I peed on that stick, later confirmed at the fertility clinic (another post for another time), I knew right away that my kids would be named after my dearly departed family… In pipes hubby reminding me about his family tradition.

My hubby’s traditions are important to me, but my feeling goes like this: if I’m the person growing these tiny humans inside me, puking my guts out for 3 months, not sleeping for 4 months and having major surgery to have said tiny humans removed then you better damn well believe I’m making the final decision on what I’m going to call the little monsters.

I spent the next 35 weeks and 6 days going back and forth about what I’d name my son. It was like mental tug-of-war. Who’s gonna be offended? Is it really a bad omen? Do I really want my kid going through life having his name mispronounced? Back and forth, back and forth.

D-day comes and I still haven’t made a final decision. We arrive at the hospital, still no decision. Prepped for my c-section, still no decision. Getting sewn up, still no decision. Puking my guts out in recovery and still no decision. Finally I get to the ward and hold my son for the first time. Instinctively I look at my hubby, who’s fighting back tears of love, joy and fear and behind all of it, I see pride, so much pride. In that split second I gave my little man the same name as his grandpa. When my father-in-law found out my son’s name he cried tears of joy and the same pride I saw in my husband – like father like son.

Even after naming him, I wasn’t so sure about my decision. I was worried he wouldn’t like his name as he got older and went to school and heard all the other kids with ‘normal’ names and decided he didn’t want his name. Mostly, I wasn’t sure how to instill pride about a name I was still iffy on.

At about 4am, after feeding the kids and wanting to scratch my eyes out I went online (because isn’t that the normal thing to do when you’re sleep deprived?) and saw an ad for a book called “The little boy who lost his name”. The books weren’t cheap but I figured it was worth a shot if it would help my son embrace his name, so I bought one for him and of course one for my daughter (twins and all). The books arrived and they were absolutely incredible, and worth every penny. The kids were too little for the books at that point but both loved their books when we first read it to them and still love them 2 years later! It’s not really a book they grow out of until much later, and then it becomes a keepsake.

So, when the company contacted me a couple months ago about their new book “Kingdom of You” I figured I’d give it shot (nothing to loose since they were sending the book free for me to review). My concern was that having twins meant needing 2 books, and while they offered to send 1 book for review, I couldn’t get one kid a book and not the other. Once they found out about the twin situation they graciously sent one book for each kid – now that’s great customer service! The Kingdom of You books are just as well written and beautifully illustrated as the Lost My Name books. The kids get lost in their own personal fairy tale – isn’t that what every kid wants? Anyway, back to my son’s name…

In the end, it isn’t a book that gives my son pride in his name, it’s the fact that our family takes such pride in the history of his name, we tell him about all of the men in the family with the same name and what incredible people they were and still are. Sharing a name with his grandpa gives my little man such pride, you should see the look on his face when he tells people “Me and Grandpa have a the same name!” I love his name because HE loves his name, its history and what it represents. It doesn’t hurt that he’s growing up to be quite an incredible little person.

What’s in a name? I guess that depends who you’re asking…

Until next time,

Your fav Urban Twin Mommy

P.S. Stay tuned for the company’s upcoming book which will feature the option of multiple kids in 1 book!

 

 

Disclosure: I was provided this product to share my honest opinion and believe me, I’m gonna tell you the truth, be it good, bad or ugly!

Big Changes at The Urban Daddy: Welcoming Our Newest Addition!


We have made some significant changes at The Urban Daddy because change is good!  Besides, what is better than a Daddy blogger?  A Daddy blogger AND a Mommy blogger!

Joining The Urban Daddy will be The Urban Twin Mommy, who brings the experience and expertise of parenting twins (one boy and one girl – both, coincidentally, are 5-years-old!)!

Here is The Urban Twin Mommy;

“Thanks for welcoming me to the world of The Urban Daddy! While I’m not a daddy, I’m definitely not your typical mommy.

Aside from being a mom of the most delicious, obnoxious, beautiful, pain-in-the-ass twins (who everyone fondly refer to as The Bears), my friends will tell you that I’m likely the most honest, no bullshit mom you’ve met. Here are a few mantras I live by:

My kids can be assholes, so can yours.

Not all babies are cute! My son was born beautiful, my daughter looked like my husband on a chicken body (luckily, she’s grown into herself and is stunning, in my unbiased opinion).

I love my husband, he loves me and we try not to maim or kill each-other while trying to raise two little humans.

I don’t lie to my kids. I explain the reality in a way their almost 5-year-old brains can comprehend. Or I tell them to ask Daddy.

Hubby can be an asshole. I can be a bigger asshole.

Postpartum depression f@#$ing sucks. I had it. I talk about it. I’ll keep talking about it until the world understands what it is and how it can affect moms.

I swear like a sailor. I don’t apologize for it. Apparently, it’s a sign of intelligence… who knew?!

I often walk the line between ‘Super Awesome Fun’ Mom and ‘Psycho, we better call a grandparent’ Mom

Well, that’s a enough about me for the time being… I can’t give away all the intrigue, now can I?!

I’m looking forward to adding some great, regular content here, and fixing all of the spelling and grammer mistakes in all the older 1250 posts!!  (Learn to spell check, Warren!)

The Urban Twin Mommy

Follow me on Twitter @UrbanTwinMommy.  You’ll also find me sometimes @realurbandaddy, with each tweet signed off MB for Mama Bear.

I’ll also pop over to TheUrbanDaddy on Facebook to bring some more oomph to that page.  :)”

 

Please help me in welcoming The Urban Twin Mommy!

 

 

 

 

Overheard at Tim Horton’s – The WORST THING EVER!!!


I overhear this conversation at Tim Horton’s recently between a couple of millennials, which caught my attention because it started with one turning to the other and declaring, “OMG! Do you know what is the WORST!”

So I had to listen.

Now you get the details of the “worst”… You might want to sit down for this!

“OMG you know what is the WORST!”

“What?”

“When you order a Coke and they bring you a Pepsi…”

“GASP

“…Without telling you.”

“I know, eh?”

“I mean, it’s so NOT okay for that to happen. They’re two completely different products and you should be warned.”

“Totally… Like when you order coffee with sugar but they forget to put in the sugar…”

“No… Not like that at all.”

“Oh.”

Silence.

Now, I had always imagined the “worst” being something far more catastrophic, like losing a child, or a spouse, or war, famine, natural disasters, but hey… Getting a Pepsi when you order a coke could be pretty bad… Like not being able to download that song for free right away, or not having WiFi available…

Can I Tell You About: Fenestration


Can I tell you about frustration, err, Fenestration…  You tell me if you’ve had an experience like this before.

First off, this is Fenestration:

Fenestration.JPG

Fenestration stands 68 inches tall and 88 inches wide.

I hate her!

I mean, she’s nice and all, but I hate her because of the bad memories that come with her as a result of a bad decision on my part, and my inability to be mean / stand up for myself.

When my wife and I purchased our previous house, Fenestration was hanging in the family room over the couch.  They room had a built-in wall unit on one wall, a built-in fireplace on the other wall, and a window on the third wall.  With 12 foot ceilings, Fenestration made the room.

But it wasn’t ours… It was art which belonged to the previous owner.

On moving day, the previous owner asked me if we had any interest in Fenestration, because it was too big for his new condo, and it really made the room.

I agreed, and figured that after buying the house, it was a nice throw in which I could always sell if we found something nicer.

“Great!” he said… “Just give me $200 bucks for it.”

<screecchhhh>

“What? $200 bucks???  I don’t want it, thanks anyways”, was my reply.

“No, you should keep it”, he declared.

“Okay, but I’m not paying $200 bucks for it”, was my response.

Apparently, I wasn’t clear, because I had no intention on paying him for this painting and he expected $200 from me, that he showed up at the house 6 times over the next 2 weeks asking for the $200.

I finally told him to come get the painting, but he somehow talked me out of that.

So I caved…

Gave him $200.

Told my wife he backed off his price.

She didn’t buy that story for a second.

So Fenestration hung on the wall for almost 5-years at that house, reminding me that I should have told him to take the damn thing or better, to just throw it in since we had bought his damn house.

Then we moved again… 5 years ago…

One of the last things I moved was Fenestration!

Rode down the main street at 2 in the morning with Fenestration flapping up and down due to the wind.  She refused to break… Damn her!

And now in our new house, Fenestration lives in the basement playroom beside the treadmill and under the hanging TV.  I use that treadmill twice a week, and each time I curse Fenestration!

I tried to sell Fenestration recently, asking $200.01 for the painting and had some quick responses.  One asked me to take $50, the other $150.  Neither deals went through.

I even go an offer from Nigeria to sell Fenestration for $10,000, but I balked at giving them my bank details, social insurance number and PIN number.

This summer, I will sell Fenestration!  I have to.  But I will always have this post to remind me about her, and of course, my wife and he story which might start like this; “… remember that time you stupidly…”

Oh My! Woman Sues Jelly Belly. Didn’t Know They Contained Sugar…


The link to the original article is below, but I had to post this news item about a woman in California suing Jelly belly because she had bought a package of Jelly Belly Sport jelly beans and the product did NOT state that there was sugar in the product.

Evaporated Cane juice, yes, but sugar no.

Apparently, the marketing team at Jelly Belly really confused her by using  “fancy words” to mislead her into thinking that she was eating a sugar-free product.

Oh my.

She was so mad / embarrassed / that she decided to sue, and is bringing a class action suit against the makers of Jelly Belly just in case anyone else was duped too…

Stay tuned!

 

http://www.msn.com/en-ca/foodanddrink/restaurantsandnews/woman-sues-jelly-belly-claiming-she-didnt-know-jelly-beans-contain-sugar/ar-BBBwnm7?li=BBjdJrH&ocid=spartanntp