The Nickname Game

Choosing Your Own Nickname is Harder Than You Think.

We are planning a big trip with four generations of family. In addition to making memories of a lifetime, this trip provides great opportunity to embarrass the children. I’m talking family sing-alongs, group pictures at every restaurant, and matching T-shirts in neon colors. With family nicknames on the back. Best of all, my husband claims the task of deciding the nicknames. The kids don’t get a say.

But I do. Hubby says I can choose my own nickname. But it’s harder than I thought. I don’t want to choose something pretentious, but I also don’t want to pick anything lame. My husband is “Doc” among my relatives. It’s his perceived role. I have many roles: wife, mother, social coordinator, chef, waiter, chauffeur, etc. (You’ll notice I didn’t list “maid.” That’s because my house will always be full of love, laughter and dust.) None of these roles provides a basis for a suitable nickname. And even though I figuratively keep the wheels from falling off the family bus, “Lug Nut” is just not flattering.

Trade on Your Trademark

Sometimes a personal trademark triggers a nickname. My paternal grandmother was affectionately known as “Grandma Beads,” because she always accessorized with necklaces of plastic beads. She had them in every color. I was about 13 before I realized that “Beads” wasn’t her real name. That explained why she always signed her name in quotes on my birthday cards.

The only personal trademark I possess is “The Look.” But I think every mom has one of those. The Look, according to my family, is a particular expression I get whenever their behavior falls short of my expectation of decorum. Pets and children, heavily goaded by Daddy, make a game out of trying to provoke me into giving them The Look. I see no inspiration for a nickname based on that trademark.

Physical traits can give rise to nicknames as well. I’ve known a “Blondie” or two over the years. But  “Golden Brown No. 642” doesn’t roll off the tongue quite so easily. And there’s something dishonest about claiming to be “Slim” or “Speedy” when I am clearly neither.

Command Respect with Your Nickname

A nickname can serve as an acknowledgment of position, like “Boss,” “Chief,” or “Captain.” One of my friends is listed in her son’s telephone contacts as “She Who Must Be Obeyed.” Unfortunately, I don’t command that sort of respect. “She Who Might Change Her Mind About Your Curfew If You Clean Your Own Bathtub” does not add to my gravitas. And it wouldn’t fit on the back of a T-shirt.

As a writer, I’d love to find a clever literary alter ego for myself. But with my luck no one will get the reference, or worse, will disagree that I share similar traits. If I called myself “Perdita,” only a Disney nerd would draw the parallel to the canine matriarch of the 101 Dalmatians. (I get her – we are both adept at wrangling fur and chaos.) No point self-styling after plucky reporter Lois Lane either, since I’m not secretly dating Superman and I wouldn’t know kryptonite from cellulite.

A Name for All Seasons

As expectant parents, we agonize over what to name our children. We consider who will be offended or honored over the chosen name. We practice saying it, and finalize how to spell it. But at some point during their childhood, our kids acquire nicknames that we use to the exclusion of all else. My poor son will be “Bwady” until he collects Social Security, just because his younger cousins couldn’t wrap their lips around “Brady.”

My sister-in-law became a grandmother this year. She considered for months what her “grandma name” should be. Apparently that’s trendy. Gone are the days when Grandma’s name derived from what the grandchildren actually called you. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I always feel sorry for the newlywed in-laws and outlaws who are expected to address “MeeMaw” and “PeePaw” by their pet names.

And speaking of pet names, no one has more nicknames than our four-footed fur babies. But we’ll leave that subject for another post.

For now, I invite your help in suggesting a vacation nickname for me. Otherwise I guess I’ll have to be the Lug Nut after all.