A Babe By Any Other Name...

It was super hard for Dave and I to pick a name for our baby. So much so that we've agreed that if we ever have another one he will just name it if it's a boy and I will pick if it's a girl. (Sterling or Karina, if you were wondering.) Anyway, we have wildly different tastes and so it was a miracle we agreed on the name Annalise at all. There is just one problem with this. NO ONE EVER UNDERSTANDS WHAT I AM SAYING.

When you have a baby, no matter who you are or what the baby looks like, everywhere you go people squeal and freak out and declare your kid the most adorable EVER, and without fail always ask the same two questions: How old is she? and What's her name? And I've done it myself, all my life. If I've ever see any baby during my existence, my voice has automatically raised six octaves, I've begun babbling and cooing and grinning like a maniac, and felt I.WOULD.DIE. if I did not immediately discern the exact birth date and given name of each and every easily-impressed-by-my-antics tot lucky enough to stumble into my shrill and delighted path.

Because of this I certainly don't mind that everyone and their brother asks what Annalise's name is. But as surely as those questions arise, the response to my answer is also always identical.

It goes like this. Every time.

"Oh my gosh, what is her name?" I am nervous at this point. I know what is coming.

"Annalise," I say carefully, striving for pronunciation so slow and precise, trying my hardest and fearing it doesn't matter anyway.

"Emmalise?" they ask, confused.

"Aaaaannalise," I repeat, drawing out the "Aah."

"Oh! Annalee!" they squeal.

"Annalise!" I exclaim, desperate now, my mouth not working well because of the pressure but hope still burning in my bosom that maybe they've understood.

"Ohhh," they say with a smile and I smile back because maybe this time it's worked!

And they turn to her and knowingly say, "Hi Emily!"