Nicknames

I have noticed that when I spend lots of time with my kids (like over school holidays) I tend to come up with new nicknames for them. But then, when I'm working again, whatever nickname I'm on seems to stick. Virginia was "Babe-a-licious" for a while, but now she is mostly just Virginia. 

Unfortunately for Horatio, the nickname he got stuck with is "Buns." Why would I call my child "Buns?" Well, Virginia is a sweetie and Horatio is a honey. Honey-buns. Buns. 

I don't even think about how strange it might sound except when Virginia says, "Horatio is your Buns!"

He does have another nickname that is gaining ground, but probably won't stick since it is a veiled insult. (Hey, sometimes children are tiny maniacs and having a loving way to call them a name might just keep you sane.) He is a Pita Pocket. And "Pita" stands for "Pain in the... you know what." 

That would be, like, when he doesn't sleep. Or when he thrashes about violently while I'm trying to change his diaper. 

It's a good thing he's cute as a baby's bottom. 

Ichor

I have a red dot on my chest, which the Internet tells me is some kind of harmless angioma. It doesn't bother me and has been there for as long as I can remember. But I do recall, as a child, having a doctor warn me that if I scratched it or accidentally cut it, it would bleed a lot. (The Internet supports this claim.) I took this warning very seriously and wondered about such a small spot bleeding "a lot." I wondered if I would be like Talos from "Jason and the Argonauts" with all of my ichor draining out through my one point of vulnerability.




It is probably good that I took the warning seriously because I am a picker. I pick scabs, zits, the dead skin around my nails. Not picking at something is an exercise in self control for me. But I didn't pick at the spot on my chest and eventually I mostly forgot about it.

Recently, though, it has returned to the forefront of my mind. Horatio stares right at this spot while he nurses. And, wouldn't you know it, both my kids are pickers, too. But, being children, they don't limit their picking to themselves and Horatio really wants to scratch that spot right off my skin.

Old fears of losing my life-force have been coming back to me as I slap a hand to my chest, thinking that if Horatio can no longer see the spot he will forget about it. But he tries with all his baby might to pry up my fingers.

So if you should find my hollow shell lying around near a cute little boy: BEWARE! He is a slayer of giants and no one's ichor may be safe.

Cats in Costume

Yesterday afternoon, in the car, Virginia was asking me about my day.
She said, "What made you happy today?"
I told her, "I sat with one of my friends at lunch and she told me that her cat wears sweaters! That made me happy because it is very funny."
Immediately Virginia replied, "Our cats can wear sweaters!"
Me: "I don't know, Virginia. I don't think they want to."
Virginia: "Why not?"
Me: "They have fur. They aren't used to wearing clothes."
Virginia: "They can just wear short sleeves."
She seemed pretty convinced they would be comfortable in short sleeves. And maybe shorts, too. Watch out kitties!

This is a pretty old picture of Penelope. (I have kids now. I don't take as many pictures of the cats!) But, I think she would agree with the sentiment on the pillow if I tried to dress her up.

Iron Bars

John and I were recently trying to explain to Virginia that I had a different last name before I married Daddy: Mazzaferro. And Virginia is kind of a Mazzaferro, too, even though it isn't part of her name. She wasn't buying it. "No! I'm Virginia Elizabeth Nelson!"

I said, "Hey, Mazzaferro is a cool name. It is Italian and it means 'iron club' or 'iron bar.'"

Without missing a beat, Virginia said, "Iron bars will bend and bow!" She was not at all impressed.

My grandfather, from whom I got the name Mazzaferro acquired a plaque in his later years that gave the translation and history of the name. As my sister read through the plaque one day she said, "'Mazza' means 'club' and 'ferro' means iron. So, Mazzaferro is 'iron club.'"

My grandfather said, "You're just like this one!" Pointing to my grandmother. "It says 'mazza' means 'club.' So Mazzaferro is club iron!"

My sister and I, who both took Latin and think nothing of inverting words in a translation, just shook our heads and said, "Okay, Pop."

We have plans to one day open a dance club called Club Iron, though. ;)