The Hardest Part of Pregnancy
A few days ago, in between sets of single leg squats and chin-ups, I complained to Marc (one of my trainers) about how hard it is to name a person. Like, for real, I can't even make up my mind about what I want for lunch...and now I'm being forced to choose a name suitable for my little girl FOR FOREVER?! Are you kidding me?! That's a ridiculous amount of pressure we're talking about! What if she hates it? What if she just thinks it's just "ok, I guess." Lame! I want her to love her name as much as I love mine (shout out to my awesome parents for the outstanding name selection - you get an A++). But I can't name her Kendall Lynn Conley Jr...it doesn't quite work like that with girls. Darnit. Plus, I don't want her to be called Junior anyways...soooooo, looks like we'll have to find something else. And I'll be darned, just when I thought all hope was lost in this process, Coach Marc was ready that day with a plethora of immediate suggestions. He must have spouted off 50 different names in 10 minutes and then insisted on delivering me a hand-written list of even more names once he had some time to think. He handed off that list on a Thai restaurant napkin yesterday while I rode the air-dyne bike for a cool down, and well, I think we have a winner...
*Lemonjello Lynn Conley*
Don't you just love it, Little Lady?!
It's all yours, forever.
OUCH. THAT KICK HURT MAMA, Baby Conley!
She despises it.
Aaaaand, back to square one...
Twisty? Sven? Aphrodity?
OUUUCHHHH!!!
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