Growing up, I never had a nickname. (Well, not to my face at least.) Maybe because my full name is Alexandra and most everyone already shortens it to Alex. A few people, like my gym teacher and dad, call me Al. I once convinced a boyfriend to call me Alexa. (I had a Billy Joel thing.)
But these are not NICKNAMES. Nicknames are based on WHO YOU ARE and WHAT YOU DO.
Alex is so cool we call her COOLIO.
Alex is so fun we call her FUNIO.
(Perhaps choosing nicknames is not my forte. But I am trying to convince my husband to call me Funio. Just for like a week.)
So really it’s been Alex. And perhaps in response to my lack of cool names, my children have a series of names that we call them. I use their full name only to let people know that they HAVE real names. And their middle names to let them know: Mama is NOT pleased.
We call E: Boo. Boo-boo (which my mom worried would give him a complex). Boo Bear. Twice I’ve yelled out in the playground: Come on over here Booby. (yes, it was mortifying.) Eggy (for like a day. then I put the cabash on that one). Silly man. Boolio. (Just kidding.)
We call N: Bean. Little Bean. Sweet Bean. Beaniac (accompanying: She’s a BEANIAC BEANIAC on the floor. And she dances like she’s never danced before.) Monkey. Fussy bucket (a bit ironic since she’s like the happiest baby… except on those days that she isn’t of course).
And while those nicknames may not be extraordinarily creative, they exist. And they are full of love. I think that’s why I always wanted a nickname. Because it meant someone knew me well enough to give me a loving name.
The closest that I got was in medical school. My study group friends all had nicknames: Yu Rock, Doogie, Mike D (Beastie Boys, hello?) and me, Grandma. I WAS TWENTY-FOUR. (But I was at least a year and a half older than everyone else in the group.)
Let’s stick with Funio.