You will be 10wks old on Monday. We all have taken to calling you our "Little Punkin Seed"and none of us are quite sure why or how that came to be. I'm sure you think this is your name. Your social security card arrived in the mail the other day, and you will be relieved to know - it does NOT say Punkin Seed Pitts. You are Oban. Pronounced "oh-ben" - and for the record, I petitioned for the spelling OBEN - so every time you get "OHH-BAN" in your life, you can thank your dad for that. And your Uncle Tate.
Here is the back-story for your name. Oban is a cute little town in Scotland your dad and I spent some time in while we traveled the year after we got married. Okay so that's a lie. The truth is we never made it to Oban. We were staying at this fishery near a beautiful fjord on the west coast of Ireland called Lenaun. The morning we were leaving we ran into some Brits we chatted it up with. We told them we were heading to Scotland and the recommendation was to visit Oban. The postcards look really cool. I promise.
The honest to goodness truth? You will appreciate your names origination when you are in college - until then your friends parents will just think your dad and I are really pathetic and they'll feel sorry for you. Fast forward to a few months before you were conceived. We were having a beer at a local pub playing the name game (which your dad HATED - he totally wanted to name you SHONDOR. you can thank ME for that veto). We looked up on the large chalk board behind the bar with its list of fine whiskeys and saw the name Oban. We reminisced about our travels and how we never made it there - but my, what a cool name! We could name our boy Oban! Your dad was sold, and I never could convince him any other name would do. You would have been Max. Just like the other 20 kids in your class. So yeah, you are named after a whiskey - but a FINE WHISKEY - we would never have named you after a shitty whiskey.
So just do yourself and us a favor - and hold off on that explanation until your 21. (okay fine, 18 - we all know you will have one of those nasty malt beverages before then). Until then you can just say "It's a Scottish name, and my dad's side is from Scotland". Which is the truth. So there is your non-alcoholic version.
Moving right along. You are so awesome. I'm going to get really mushy here - you can deal with it. You are seriously the coolest little man - I feel so lucky every day I have to spend with you. You are so beautiful and so sweet, and your smiles just melt us all! You have doubled your birth weight and the doctor says you are doing push-ups like a 4month old so we have to start really watching to be sure you don't dismount your changing table while we dispose of your stinky butt diapers (which are cloth, thankyouverymuch to all the naysayers who were placing bets on how long it would take for me to give that up). Your dad would love to get you a kayak for xmas, but I'm thinking it may be a little too soon for eddys and back-deck rolls.
The first month or two was really TOUGH. Until you starting flashing us those smiles, I really struggled with feeling connected to you. Fortunately you are surrounded by so much love with our family and friends - you never made it out to the recycling bin where I thought about leaving you once or twice. Please forgive me. You will understand this one day when you have children of your own.
But we're past that now - and its allllll good! We made it through the gauntlet! And you still have all your toes. Amen. You are healthy, happy, growing like a weed, and the light of my life. You made this Thanksgiving the best ever. Maybe next year we'll let you suck on a turkey leg.
I love you the most.
Yo Mama.
