Ever wondered about this blog name? No? Well I'm-a gonna tell you anyhow!
In addition to the obvious family-of-six part, and the fact that we are gross, it's also in reference to our babies.
When our kids were infants, they were major barfers. You couldn't even call it spit-up, because that implies a quantity near the size of a spit-wad or something. Spit-up sounds almost sweet. Like a burp gone slightly awry. It's what babies do, and everything they do is adorable.
No way, my kids did not spit-up. They barfed. Sometimes, on a very special day, they projectile vomited. And not because they were ill. Oh no, that was on the good days.
First there was Soaf. She barfed a lot. Then there was Simon. He totally barfed more, though we didn't think it was possible. Then there was Gus. I have no idea how that kid gained weight. He was practically bulimic. Then there was Otto, who wasn't quite so bad as Gus, but still kept up a healthy level, so as not to be outdone. (Surprisingly, my kids—with the exception of Soaf—were all pretty chubby. Pure breast milk, baby.)
So after we moved from Sofie to Simon with the vomiting unabated, we took to calling him "slimeball." Because if you were holding him, you would absolutely get slimed.
Dave's grandma heard us call him slimeball and (with humor) expressed her concern for our choice of nickname. We explained why we called him that, and she said something to the effect of, "Well at least if he gets called names in school, he'll already be used to it, so it won't bother him." And then she had a hearty laugh. She's a practical woman.
This is the same grandma, incidentally, who was asking Dave's sister to help her name all the grand kids. When they came to Gus, who was four months old at the time, she said, "Are they still calling him that?" To which Dave's sister replied, "Yeah, Grandma. Because that's his name." And she said, "Well, I guess I'll just have to think of all the people I like named Gus." She began naming them, and reporting whether or not they were still alive. They were all dead. I don't like to play favorites with grandparents, but if I had to pick one, she'd be serious contender. And her name is Oda. Come ON! That is the raddest name ever.
Anywho, while you may have thought my blog name was at best confusing and at worst unsavory, you now know it is far far grosser than you could have ever imagined.
You're welcome.
7 comments:
The barfing must run in the family. All our kids did it too. My major fantasy for about 4 years of my life to was to not smell like spit-up. When I think of it now, that is a pretty sad fantasy. I wanted clothes that needed to be dry cleaned because that meant the clothes, and by extension me, wouldn't be the target of the spit bombs. Love the stories about the names. There is no one like her!
Sally was a barfer to, but oddly I get slimed more with T. because he spits up so little in comparison so I'm never prepared. With Sal I resorted to using her blankets as burp rags, so I had decent coverage. Also, I'm so glad you shared about grandma. I love her and her practicality!
I had completely forgotten then smell of baby barf until you blogged. And oh, how I remember it, but it's so sweet now because I also remember their little faces and little bodies. It was worth the barfies. Can of course write it because I don't have any babies to barf on me!
Uh, this is mary. Not John . . . I'm not sure he'd wax so sweet about barf....
I remember all of your kids at the slime stage, but most of all the Slimmeball. Maybe I held him more, but I think he barfed and slimed on me more than the others. And I LOVE the grandma stories. I almost laughed myself into an asthma attack, not just because of what she said, but also how you told the stories. She is so awesome and definitely one of a kind! Thanks for sharing!
i love those stories about grandma, too!!!
I have TOTALLY wondered where the name came from! Thank you for the awesomely awesome story. And for sharing Oda. I want more of those stories. :-)
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