Origins

My little sister Katie is having a boy!

I almost can’t stand it. The girliest girl in the world…well, one of them, anyway–soon to be the mother of a rough and tumble, loud and pyscho, wild and crazy, entertaining, lovable little boy.

So. Excited.

Truthfully I never wanted a boy, before Merrick came along. I loved daughters and all things pink and frilly. I liked quiet books and tea parties, polite coloring and french braids. Boys? Foreign territory. I didn’t care if I ever had a son. Of course, all that changed with the arrival of one of the most important males to ever walk the face of this planet.

Names are fun. Katie and her husband have one particular in mind, and their choices force me to recall a time when Caleb and I were battling over that very subject. But the journey to Merrick’s name began way before 2008…back to when I was newly pregnant with Mia.

I couldn’t have been that far along. Cheyenne was off visiting her West Virginia family for the holidays, so Caleb and I spent those weeks in December running around Pensacola like free birds. No one else knew I was pregnant except for Caleb, and he wanted a son soooo bad. He had his precious heart set on the name “Jackson”, but I wasn’t concerned one way or another with boy names, because I just knew I was having a girl.

We went to the movies one night. After sitting through “Bad Santa”, I guess we were feeling mischevious…and so, we took a bathroom break…and snuck into another theater.

“Timeline” was showing. I was entranced from the moment the virtually-unknown Gerard Butler graced the big screen and started talking all Scottish. His character’s name? Andre Marek.

So beautiful.

Of course I was smitten with Gerard Butler. He was heavenly to look at and to listen to, and his character was hellabrave. Plus, his name was neato. But I knew I was having a girl, so I didn’t give it much thought. Until Caleb brought up Jackson again one night, months later.

“Jackson? Eh. I kind of like Marek,” I said.

“Huh?”

“Marek. But Jackson is okay, I guess.”

“Marek. Marek. You know, I wouldn’t have liked it that much–but I like the way you say it.”

“Marek?”

“Yeah. Marek.”

And so, had Mia been a boy, we would have already had our Marek–or Merrick, as we eventually chose to spell it. There’s no telling. When we found out our little man was on the way over 3 years ago, we toyed with other names (does anyone remember Riddick or Diego?) but in the end, decided on the one that has stuck with me ever since that naughty night at the movie theater in 2003. Thank you, Gerard Butler, for being gorgeous and Scottish. My son is indeed a Merrick no doubt because of you.

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About Toni

Mom. Wife. Artist. I take care of the kids and pretend to clean sometimes. I can cook spagetti and I have never been arrested. View all posts by Toni

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