I love telling the story of Joey’s name.
When we found out we were having a boy, the negotiations began with Elvis Aaron and ended with Joey Ramone.
Only, I usually leave the whole middle part out. You know, those final months of pregnancy where time stands still and your ankles become the size of fat chihuahuas.
Joey was nearly certain to be a Charlie.
In the months between Elvis and Joey, we settled on Charles Ernest. My dad’s middle name and Randy’s dad’s middle name. We very nearly named our precious son after two of the worst people we knew. Seriously, between my dad and Randy’s dad, they represented damn near all the behaviors that make people assholes.
I look back and wonder what the fuck we were thinking. I’m also happy we changed our minds. Joey is Joey, he could never be anyone else.
Randy and I were talking recently about the time we’re fairly certain I had a miscarriage.
I hadn’t taken a test yet, but had all the symptoms and we started calling the maybe baby, “Gus”.
And then I wasn’t pregnant.
Joey had never heard that story.
Me: Yeah, you were conceived about 6 months later.
He looked at me with concern, and I thought for a moment he was going to offer me sympathy.
Joey: Yeah, fuck that kid.
Joey: Gus tried to take my place.
Me: He totally would have.
Joey: You can’t trust a Gus.
Saturday, we met a friend of Randy’s at Wooden Cask brewery.
Joey and I decided to play Trivial Pursuit.
I forgot how to play. I mean, I know you answer questions and get pie, but not real pie, which in itself makes the game somewhat unsatisfying.
So, Joey had to read the directions because I didn’t have any readers in my purse.
You can find readers all over my house, conveniently located under couch cushions, behind a kitty bed or perhaps on top the fridge where I can’t actually see them. But a pair in my purse? Why would I do that? What could I possibly need to see outside the confines of my home?
Anyway, Joey meant to say the players went clockwise, but said “clockwards” instead. I actually like clockwards better. Joey made a valiant effort, but he lost.
Because I am a good mom, I accepted my win with grace and compassion.
I threw my arms over my head and said “Haha, I’m smart. You’re dumb.”
I’m not sure Randy’s friend knows that is how we show affection in our family. I mean, to be honest, I don’t know for sure Joey knows either.
I’m writing about Joey because he spent Sunday afternoon canoeing with friends.
My brain was super happy because it was in the mood for generating enough anxiety to make the inside of my mouth taste like metal. I had visions of angry, churning rapids. Jagged rocks everywhere for him to bash his head on. Malevolent, underwater tree roots waiting to trap a humongous size 12 foot and drag him under.
All of this is completely unreasonable. Nothing about it makes sense, but try telling my brain that. I mean, really. Try. Because I do and it has no effect at all.
Joey made it home safe and sound.
He did tip out of the canoe a few times. He said the water was only waist deep.
He did say it was really cold water. He got a chill. I wasn’t too far off.
Photo courtesy of Free Photos.