Names

I've never loved my name. It's a weird spelling and with only 5 letters, it doesn't lend itself to a lot of options. I wanted to be a Katherine, an Elizabeth or something else that was equally regal. Or, something historic and biblical. Mary would have been nice.

My parents were pretty young when I was born. Throw that in with some southern roots ... well, enough said. Good thing I wasn't a boy. I probably would have been named "Tommy Bob."

My grandfather (Yep, he was crazy too) used to always call me by the middle name I was given at birth. I've always wondered if he preferred that name or just couldn't remember my first name. I loved him anyway. He always ate those disgusting cakes out of my EZ Bake Oven. You know, the ones with sludge and water that were baked by a light bulb. (He also used to show up at the same parties in high school but that's a different story.)

One of the few perks of multi-marriages is getting to choose your name. I legally changed my middle name to my maiden name many years ago. I love my maiden name and I find it ironic that it's now a popular name for both little girls and boys. It doesn't matter. People who know you know your weak spots. The husband often yells through the house for me. "Sheri Lynn! Where are you?" I have an aunt who never addresses me without both names. At this late stage, it's starting to grow on me.

I've had the honor to know many nurses in my life. I have two mother-in-laws who are retired nurses. I know a lot of people in the healthcare industry. They can tell the funniest stories about names. Women actually name their babies after words they hear in the delivery room. Hello, Placenta! My favorite is a woman in Detroit who named her twin boys after her favorite desserts: Lemonjello and Oranjello.

I'll keep my convaluted, 5-letter, mispelled name. At least they didn't name me Placenta.