I was nursing my son this morning when I was struck with serious Xanga nostalgia. 

Eight years ago, next month, I started this site. Two years ago I abandoned it. I think I’d like to come back.

There’s nothing like Xanga, or there was…Xanga isn’t what it used to be. 

Everyone I know has stopped writing here. Facebook took over the important updates. Xanga was for writing.

I’ve forgotten how to write.

**************

I gave birth to our son eleven days ago. (I did have to count on my fingers to come up with the number.) His name is Ephraim, his nickname is Remy.

I don’t really call him by either.

It struck me this morning (shortly after the Xanga nostalgia waxed and waned) that we refer to Ephraim by any and all sort of pseudonyms except for the one on his birth certificate.

Beetle-bug.

Stinky-pants.

Bobble-head.

Froggy. (Which then leads to many rounds of “Froggy Went A-Courtin'”)

Little Man. (I use this one a lot.)

Toots.  (Won’t he love that when he gets older?)

I guess now is the time to exhaust our capacity for embarrassing nicknames, before he really understands them or can protest their use. 

I’m wondering, though, how long it will take for his real name to stick? 

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